Cherry Two

Part 38

Chapter 36

Eventually Calley slipped back into bed. Alain moaned and reached for her, half awake, half asleep, half naked, hugging the girl as if acting out a delightful dream. She curled against him, feeling his body heat through her thin nightdress, listening to the distant eerie echo of sirens that seemed to go on and on.

At the same moment Jon Hollander headed west into town on Highway 101 at speed. Port Angeles may have gone to sleep, but there were people that needed waking up fast. He listened to Chuck Bearden's voice on the car radio emanating from the horrific crime scene Hollander had just vacated.

"A probable ID on the third victim, Jon. We have a Donna Sanford from items found in her clothing. I've already made a call to her employer; it's this guy Wolanchuk. He's on his way here via Tacoma. It'll take hours with no night ferry."

Hollander spoke fast, trying to keep pace with his racing brain as he thrashed the police car into a curve, headlights blazing, roof lights flashing. "We don't have hours—keep on him. Get everything you can while he drives. I want details: especially why he sent an investigator here in the first place—all the case notes. There's no confidentiality to protect now so push him hard. I'm heading for customs and immigration for passenger list printouts, then over to Bernice Growe before she hears about Marty from someone else. I need to keep this well away from the media until we have more to go on. That won't be easy with all our street activity and radio traffic."

Bearden already had new pertinent information on the ferry connection from Wolanchuk to pass along. "According to Sanford's last phone report to Wolanchuk, Ina Benson picked up two pedestrian passengers off the Victoria ferry that docked at noon. No descriptions of either suspect. I guess if they walked off the Coho that might narrow things down some."

"Christ, Chuck, this time of year that barge dumps eight-nine—hundred passengers into our town each time she unloads," Hollander carped. "Without names or physical descriptions to pin on them it's a lost cause. Damn! The crime's fresh, but I can feel it slipping away. Keep pressing Wolanchuk. Keep feeding it back to me a piece at a time. We still have five hours to go before sunrise. When State forensics show up, have them go over Marty's car inch by inch. Sanford and Marty both blundered into something they didn't understand. Silence is the only possible motive I can see for killing the old couple."

Bearden signed off. Hollander kept his foot in it as streetlights from the urban outskirts came into view. He doused the high beams and ran a red light with the siren wailing. He'd spent decades as a trooper on the Seattle force and thought he'd seen the last of vicious gang-style killings. His false teeth ground together at the irony. Port Angeles was the kind of place where post-retirement city cops spent their last years fishing, sailing and locking up the occasional tourist on a DUI... not investigating more mass murder.

***

All three travelers were awake at first light. Robert noticed nothing much by way of conversation flowing between the youngsters as they dressed sitting back to back on the queen-size bed.

An hour later the trio were first to hit the hotel café for breakfast and sat together at a corner table as the waitress fussed and hovered, armed with hot coffee and no one else to serve. Robert unfolded a slip of paper.

"I made a list."

Alain perked up. "Places for the Benson birthday party?"

"Yes, about six of them. Half are within walking distance. It's still too early for anyone to be answering phones. We could take a look at the ones close by? If we're lucky they might have a sign up." Robert glanced at Calley. "Are you alright? Want to come along? I always take a walk first thing in the morning as you know."

She cast her eyes down at the table and her partially nibbled croissant. "Why don't we just go home? I've been stupid."

Alain rested an arm over her shoulder. "No one's stupid, okay? It's a difficult time. I'm still working out what to say to Mom and Keenan. Besides our flight won't leave for hours. If Joby Benson is at the party place you can talk with her and at least get one thing settled. I haven't changed my mind, Calley. I still intend flying back to England with you. I have two fathers now."

Calley looked ready to kiss him by the way she responded.

Robert cleared his throat. "Right then. I suggest we split up. You detectives take these two places and I'll go to this one—American Legion Post on Park Street. We can meet back here in a half hour. Sound good?"

As they left by the side entrance a police car rolled up in front of the Olympic Inn. The morning desk clerk thought he recognized one of the uniformed officers from the donut shop two doors down the street. He nodded, wondering what on earth this could be about so early. The cop placed a communications radio on the counter.

"Hi. You have a Donna Sanford registered here. We need to see her room."

***

Robert headed east into a red sky while Alain and Calley started walking west, casting an infinite shadow. For warmth she tucked close to Alain's side with her arm tight around his waist.

"Last night... were you dreaming about someone?"

He tried not to laugh. "I guess. I had this funny dream you were in bed with me. But every time I woke up the bed was empty."

Calley sighed. "I'm not sure if I slept. Robert moved about and made some noise. Then there was all that noise from the street—police sirens half the night. I'll never get used to America."

They turned south at the first intersection as Alain pointed at the town map he'd grabbed in the lobby. "Down here a few blocks. No one gets used to America, darlin'."

***

Robert pulled his jacket tighter about his neck. The morning coastal air felt much colder than the breezes coming off Carmel Bay. He picked up the pace and tried to ignore the stiffness that came with advancing years. Stiffness that prompted him to cut these exercises shorter and shorter each season. He'd thought about buying a dog and would have except for the scooping part.

Park Street came up sooner than expected. A church occupied one corner of the lighted intersection with a legion hall directly across on the other side. No traffic moved on either street and only an occasional car or delivery van traversed the main road. He shivered. Port Angeles might be described as a sleepy town, but on this morning it seemed downright comatose.

A gravel car park fronted the hall: a bland single-story cinderblock building with brick portals framing the front entrance painted military gray. Timed security lights were still lit on the outside, illuminating the handful of cars scattered about the lot as American and legion flags fluttered overhead. Inside all remained in darkness.

Robert ambled over to the unlit signboard and couldn't believe his luck. Right first try. He gaped up at the darkened block letters that spelled out a greeting.

WELCOME INA AND JOSEPH

A LADY 70 YEARS YOUNG TODAY

This was one of the rare times Robert wished he'd bothered to embraced cell phone technology. He stepped backward to take in a wider view of the big sign. In doing so his rear bumped against the fender of a car—a rusty yellow Chevy Citation.

What has Robert blindly walked into? Is this unfinished business from a quarter century ago? How long will it take the local police to make the right connections? Will it be in time to prevent more killings?

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