Hot Storage (8 page)

   I thought about what he said. We don’t have any major businesses or chains around here. One of the reasons so many of our young people move on is the lack of jobs. Oh, sure, you can flip burgers or work on the docks, help on a fishing boat. There’s just nothing to make a career. No towering levels of high tech businesses humming along broad boulevards lined with brand name coffee shops. Not here. Not even close.

   About the only place readily available to store anything is a storage facility. And Beach Storage was the only one in the area, unless you counted the boat storage yards in Jade and most of those are outdoors.

   “Couldn’t you unload into a boat? Another boat? Like in the boat yards? There’s all kinds of boats stored there, acres of ‘em. Some are pretty good size. At least as big as a Move It rental truck.”

   “That could work, babe. Couple things wrong. You’re unloading a truck into a boat, the boat up on blocks, or a crane so you’re spending a lot more time out in the open to get the boxes out of the truck and onto the boat. Plus, why would anyone be loading cartons into a beached boat? That’s gonna make people way curious. I know it would make me curious, even if I was just a mechanic.”

   I took my turn at sighing. Covered trucks, box vans, all are common sights at any storage facility, some of them even rent the moving trucks.

   I know there’s three major companies with storage in my lot – like Bake It Right, the cakes and cookies people. Their products are in all the grocery stores, liquor stores, even the high school. Their big sixteen wheeler comes in every Monday, pulls up to their unit and rolls a ramp out the side door and starts filling up the unit. After that their local man comes in with a smaller van, loads up what he needs and begins his route, delivering all over our area and Monarch Beach next door. He works every day but Sunday. Monday it starts all over again.

   We’re sort of the distribution center. What works for cupcakes could work for drugs.

   Was there a chance one of my favorite customers was running drugs? That thought upset me a little. How well did I really know these people? Hardly at all. I knew more about T. Tom Tanner from magazines than from him personally.

   The Bake It Right driver came in from Arizona every week. He had mentioned the drive several times, how early they had to get up, the weather between home and here. He had mentioned stops in Los Angeles and Santa Barbara at different times.

   I had been by when they were unloading, the cartons rolling quickly down the steel conveyor belt to be stacked in the unit. I couldn’t swear in court what was inside those cartons. They were a nationwide company, had been for years, and I was pretty sure they made enough off their bakery line that they didn’t need to dabble in drugs.

   Still, it underlined how easy it would be to store and distribute drugs from my facility. The major problem I faced was finding out if and who.

   “Penny for your thoughts,” Burke interrupted.

   “Lot to take in,” I said. “Put like that, it could be anyone. Well, anyone with a van or truck.”

   “Exactly,” Burke agreed. “It’s a big ball of string, babe. If I can find a loose end the whole thing will unravel. It’s finding that string. And there’s always the chance they moved on.”

   “And how do we know?”

   Burke sighed again and stood up. “Gonna start by getting my motor home in here. If the boss says okay.” He pushed his chair in and looked at me. “How about pizza and a movie tonight? I’ll buy the pizza, you pick the movie.”

   “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll call Papa Murphy right now.”

   “Thanks. Let me know,” he tossed over his shoulder on his way out.

   After Burke left I went around Paul by calling Papa Murphy and getting his permission to move in the motor home. Asking Paul for permission to have Burke living here, even temporarily, was not something I wanted to do. He had the wrong impression already. Why add to it?

   When Burke came in around lunch time I told him he could bring in the motor home. He thanked me and reminded me we had dinner plans before once again taking off.

   I spent the afternoon going over the customer list.

   Being blessed with an excellent memory has its drawbacks. More than four hundred customers were listed. Some were couples or families and I could remember a lot of them. The stinkers rose to the top like helium balloons, followed by the long timers, those who had been here the longest. No way could I recall them all.

   A handful were here longer than me. Could I reasonably eliminate them due to longevity? The only people I could actually eliminate were the owners – Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, Paul and his wife, who came in at times, and Patrick, who only visited the site when helping his mom.

   The only other customer I could eliminate was Randy. He was from a different generation where integrity and honor were highly valued and a man was as good as his word.

   I knew I didn’t have anything to do with it so that pared down the list of suspects. By about seven. It’s a start. Maybe Burke had the right idea with the motor home. The dark hours might hold some answers.

   About an hour before closing Burke rolled in, literally.

   The motor home was beige with brown striping and looked about twenty five feet long.

   He had to climb down to enter his code, then hop back up, shut the door and get through the gate before it closed. I found it entertaining to watch him hop around, since I could have just pushed a button in the office and opened the gate.

   I watched the cameras to see him pull in and park along the back fence. Some customers have to back and saw a dozen times to get situated. Burke did it the first time, pulling head in rather than backing like most. A wide tinted window split the rear of the vehicle when it was in position, giving the tenant an excellent view. In this case the view encompassed the rear aisle around the buildings as well as the west side of the facility.

   He was still inside when I closed the office and locked up for the day.

   I took a quick shower, pulled on my sweats and turned on the television to look for a movie. The local news was on with the weather so I hesitated to get the forecast. The weather guy did the report then told us to stay tuned for the latest on the double murder in Jade Beach. I didn’t know there was a double murder in Jade Beach, so I waited through a half dozen commercials.

   The update the anchor promised amounted to nothing, just saying there was nothing new in the search for whoever killed two young Latino men found dumped near the freeway. I was ready to change channels when they showed pictures of the two men in better days.

   The one on the right was identified as Carlos Reynaldo Esquibel. I didn’t even look at the second guy. I focused on Carlos. He looked familiar. He looked a lot like the picture I had copied from the office tapes. I hit the pause button and went to get the folder.

By the time Burke showed up with dinner I was pretty sure this was the same guy. The television was playing Pong with the station logo so I could hold the image of Mr. Esquibel. I already recorded the segment in case I needed it later.

   Burke knocked and came in, going directly to the kitchen with a square box. He called out from around the corner “you want beer or soda?”

   “Beer, please,” I answered. “Come look at this.”

   “Can I get dinner first? I’m starved.”

   With a sigh I got up to help him. He had the paper plates and napkins in hand so I grabbed a couple of beers and followed him back to the living room.

   He sat in his usual place on the couch before looking at the tv. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

   “I saw this on the news,” I explained. “I saved it for you.”

   “What is it? I’m hungry.”

   “Just watch it,” I said.

   The piece was about five minutes and when it finished, I rewound it in case Burke wanted to see it again.

   “And?”

   I was disappointed he didn’t see it right away. “That guy! He looks like the same guy on the tape. The one I gave you, remember? When the drugs were taken? I burned you a copy. This is the guy coming around the corner of that truck!”

   Burke gave me a glance, chewed pizza and looked at the screen. “Back it up,” he said. “Let’s see it again.”

   Happy with my clue and the attention he was giving it I rewound and showed it again.

   “I don’t get it,” he said when the news clip had played through. “What am I looking at?”

   “That guy,” I said, pointing at the screen. “That’s the same guy. The one on my tape.” I rewound and played it again. “See? Right there. On the right.”

   Burke chewed and looked again at the screen. “I don’t see it, babe. The guy you taped here was heavier and older. Sorry.”

   I sat back with a thud, disappointed. “You don’t see it?”

   “I don’t think they’re the same. Maybe a slight resemblance because of the hair and the soul patch. Otherwise? Uh – uh. I was called in on the homicide, babe. I saw those bodies up close and I’m telling you not the same guy.”

   “You’re on this case, too?”

   “Not officially. I was called in to see if I could identify either one of them. Maybe one of the dealers I’ve dealt with or seen around. Nada. Never saw these guys before. Or your guy out back. Now, what movie did you get?”

   Okay, I sulked. I was proud of my clue. To hear him poo-poo it ticked me off.

   “I didn’t get one,” I said. “I was side tracked.”

   Burke took a deep breath and sighed it out, setting his slice of pizza down. “Come on, Marlena,” he said, patting my knee. “It was close. I admit it. If I hadn’t seen him up close I might have made the same mistake. You did a good job, a great job. Proves you’re doing your job, a regular part of the team. If you’ll feel better, I’ll pass it on to the task force. Just don’t be disappointed when it gets tossed. Okay?”

   With my own sigh I agreed and handed him the remote. “You find a movie. I’ll get the napkins.”

   Burke stayed in his motor home the next three nights, leaving his pickup parked down the block and walking in before the gates locked. I checked the cameras often and never saw him. If he was wandering the property he did an excellent job of avoiding the camera system.

   I kept my file with the picture I had printed out. On Friday I bought the local paper to see if they printed the pictures of the murdered men. No such luck. I could find every yard sale in the county but nothing about the two men. Small town, weekly paper.

   My disappointment carried me through the day. When Burke failed to show all day I decided to get away from it all and treat myself to dinner at Kelly’s. Fish and chips sounded pretty good. Not cooking sounded even better.

   I found a seat at the counter and placed my order, adding a salad and iced tea. The waitress brought the salad and tea and smiled at me. “Thank God it’s Friday, right? You have plans for later?”

   “No, not me. Just a long day and too lazy to cook.”

   “I hear you,” she said. “Story of my life. Every Friday I make a list of things to do on the weekend and on Monday I toss it having done none of them.”

   “I’ll share a secret with you,” I said, leaning forward. “Put it on the list when you do it, then cross it off. You’ll always get at least one thing done.”

   She gave a polite laugh and moved down the counter to see to the other customers. I finished my salad and shoved the bowl aside, dabbing my mouth with the napkin.

   “This seat taken?”

   I looked over at John Kincaid, the Monarch detective, standing beside me.

   “All yours,” I said, sliding my salad bowl to the other side.

   “Marlena, right? From the storage place?”

   I nodded. “That’s me. How are you, Detective?”

   “John, please. I’m good. How about you? Any more excitement?” He slid onto the stool next to me.

   “The storage business is probably the most boring job in the world.”

   “Oh, I don’t know. You had some excitement last month. Anything new on that?”

   “Not really,” I began, then stopped and looked at him. “May I ask a question about the investigation?”

   “Sure. Ask away. Although I can’t divulge any top secret information,” he said with a wink.

   “Is it top secret?”

   “Not that I know of,” he said. “It’s under wraps though. DEA and the drug task force don’t want it broadcast. About the, uh, boxes you found. What can I help you with?”

   “The two bodies that were found by the freeway. Is that your case?”

   He nodded.

   “Do you think they could be related?”

   He thought for a minute. “You mean the boxes and the bodies?”

   My turn to nod. “Yeah. Do you think they’re related?”

   He paused long enough to place his order before he answered me. “I don’t see it myself. Why? Do you think they’re related? Did you find something?”

   I sipped tea and thought for a second. Burke was part of the task force, too. He told me he would turn in my information. I wondered if he did, or if he was just humoring me.