The Chocolate Falcon Fraud (6 page)

Jeff didn't speak, but he gave a soft groan.

I nearly fell off the ladder. Then I spoke. Amazingly my voice came out quietly. “Jeff! Jeff? Are you okay?”

Which proves just how stupid I can be in an emergency. Obviously Jeff wasn't okay. But he was alive.

Tess was jumping up and down at the foot of the ladder. I climbed down, and she climbed up, and somehow we didn't get tangled up. Still clutching the phone, Aunt Nettie told Hogan what had happened, and he promised an ambulance immediately.

Tess pulled herself up into the attic and began shoving boxes down through the little entrance hole. I tried to catch them and stack them on the bed.

Tess kept talking. “Oh, Jeff! Oh, Jeff, honey! It's so hot up here!”

She was right. West Michigan summers might be balmy compared to Texas, but the past couple of days had been in the mid-seventies. Because of that silly scientific rule about heat rising, plus the sun beating on the roof, that attic must have been a sweatbox.

“Don't move him!” I called. “Wait till the ambulance gets here.”

“I won't, Lee! I'm just trying to clear a path to get to him.”

It was more than ten minutes before the ambulance arrived. Next, Hogan and Joe came tearing up in Hogan's car, followed by sheriff's deputies in other cars. All of them were using sirens, naturally, which pretty soon meant all the neighbors from a mile around were standing in our yard, trying to figure out what was going on. There were lights and radios and all possible forms of complete chaos.

One of the EMTs stepped off the plywood sheet, and his foot went through the ceiling of the guest room. I didn't even care when I saw it dangling there.

Jeff was muttering incoherently as they loaded him into the ambulance. Hogan, Aunt Nettie, Joe, Tess, and I declared ourselves family and piled into Hogan's car to follow. The only detour was past Hogan and Aunt Nettie's house to pick up Joe's truck.

Things didn't calm down until Aunt Nettie, Joe, and I were sitting in the waiting area of the emergency room. Tess wasn't sitting with us because the doctor had allowed her to go in and stay with Jeff, and Hogan was wandering in and out.

Within a half hour Hogan reported that the doctor was encouraging about Jeff's condition. “The doc says he's mainly dehydrated, on top of having a concussion. But he doesn't think the concussion is too serious. He thinks a few hours of IVs will improve his condition. Jeff is now resting quietly. Tess was holding his hand.”

I think I was a bit giddy with relief, so I laughed. “I hope someone reminds Jeff that he and Tess just see each other on campus,” I said. “At least that's what he told me.”

“I imagine Tess will settle that situation,” Hogan said. “She seems to be a capable young woman. If it weren't for her bugging his car, we wouldn't have known anything had happened. Personally I would have just thought Jeff took off for Texas. We might never have tried to call him, never have heard the phone.”

I shuddered and resolved not to dwell on that possibility. It hadn't happened that way.

I called Alicia, getting her out of bed, and promised a new report whenever one was available.

“Oh my Lord!” she said. “I'll have to figure out what time it is in Peru.”

“And we'll have to start figuring out how all this happened,” I said. “You might be smart just to tell Rich and Dina that Jeff had a wreck. That's really all we know so far.”

I hung up and turned to Hogan. “How on earth did Jeff get into our attic?”

“Probably just climbed up. I imagine he's athletic enough to do it without a ladder.” Hogan stood up. “But I need some coffee before I try to analyze when and why. Nettie? Do you want some?”

They wandered off, looking for a coffee machine, and Joe and I sat shoulder to shoulder.

I kept talking. “I see how Jeff could have a wreck and get a concussion. But how could the wreck happen thirty miles from our house and yet Jeff was found in our attic? Can you think of any simple explanation?”

“Hitchhiking?” Joe shrugged. “I guess Jeff could have gotten a ride to our house from someone.”

“But what reason would he have to climb into the attic?”

“We're going to have to wait until Jeff is conscious, Lee. Then we'll just ask him.”

“Will the county be handling the investigation?”

“Legally, I guess it has to be a cooperative effort. But for now the sheriff has handed it over to Hogan, since Jeff was found inside the city limits of Warner Pier.”

The whole situation was totally incomprehensible. I considered what we knew, starting with Jeff's movements since he left Texas.

First point, Jeff drove from Dallas to Warner Pier, arriving yesterday.

Second point, Tess followed him, guided by the electronic tracker she hid on his car.

Third, Tess followed the bug on his car around our community. Jeff, or at least his car, went out into the wooded area east of Warner Pier. He stayed for an hour or so.

Fourth, he came back to town and drove around, ending up on Lake Shore Drive, apparently not too far from our house.

Fifth, Jeff's car sat in that area for at least an hour, according to the tracker.

Sixth, the car moved back to the area east of Warner Pier and became stationary. All this happened yesterday, the same day Jeff visited my office.

Seventh, yesterday Tess looked for Jeff at several motels, then tried to follow his car into the heavily wooded area, again using the bug as a guide. She came to the end of a dead-end road without seeing Jeff or his car.

Eight, convinced that the bug had made some sort of mistake, Tess gave up and came to our house; then Joe and Hogan were able to find the car, wrecked, in the spot where the tracker had indicated.

Nine, Jeff was not in the car.

Ten, we found him hidden in the attic of our house—twenty-five miles away.

“The whole thing is nonsense,” I said.

“I agree,” Joe said. “Complete nonsense. We can only hope that Jeff is able to explain it.”

I whirled toward Joe. “Do you think somebody tried to hurt Jeff?”

“Maybe. The simplest answer is that Jeff was attacked somehow, maybe by someone who wanted his nice new Lexus.”

I nodded. “That could happen.”

Joe went on. “He managed to escape from his attacker and hide in our house. Would Jeff know how to get in without breaking a window or something like that?”

“It's possible. Even though it was almost four years ago and he didn't stay with us long, you and I still hide an extra key in the same spot where Aunt Nettie always did. I'll check to see if it's gone.”

“Maybe we ought to move it from the lilac bush in any case,” Joe said.

“I don't know. Maybe some other wandering friend or relative might need to get in.”

We both laughed. Then Joe spoke again.

“I guess the hijacker scenario would end with the car thief driving the car out Big Pine Road and wrecking it.”

“That's possible, I guess. But there's a big problem with it. Why would someone steal his car and drive all the way to the dead end of Big Pine Road? And where did he go from there?”

“I don't have an answer to that. And speculation is a waste of time. We'll have to wait and see what Jeff can tell us.”

“I guess we need to keep calling to update Alicia.”

“Since Jeff doesn't seem to be at the point of death, you can put off calling her again until morning.” He consulted his watch. “That's only a couple of hours.”

“Maybe the key to Jeff's motel room is in his clothes. He might like to have his toothbrush.”

“Good idea.”

We braved the ER staff to go back to the room where Jeff was being treated and beckoned to Tess. She gave us the big plastic sack that now held Jeff's clothes and the contents of his pockets. The three of us took it out to the waiting room.

“Men should carry purses,” I said.

“If they have this much junk they need to,” Tess said.

“By the way,” Joe said. His voice was so casual that I knew he was going to ask an important question. “Does Jeff subscribe to the
Warner Pier Weekly Gazette
?”

Tess didn't look up. “No,” she said, “but he checks it out online.”

Joe and I exchanged a look. One mystery solved. Jeff had been keeping track of the Warner Pier news, including marriages, online. It was sort of nice to know he'd been keeping an eye on us.

I didn't say anything to Tess; we started searching Jeff's things. One of the first things we found was his billfold, and the key card for his motel room was jammed in between a discount card for Tom Thumb supermarkets and another for Walgreens.

I held up the room key. “I hereby declare Joe and I have been empowered to get Jeff's stuff out of his room.”

“And to check him out of the motel,” Joe added. “I'm sure they're going to keep him here a couple of days. He won't be needing a motel room.”

“And when he gets out,” I said, “I'm going to insist that he
comes to our house. I wouldn't want anybody who's had a concussion staying on his own in a motel.”

We checked in with Hogan and Aunt Nettie, then headed out. By then it was four a.m., and I expected the driveway of the Holiday Inn Express to be empty. But we parked under the overhang out front behind a small silver car. When we went inside, an oily-looking man with big eyes was checking in. Joe and I stopped at the end of the desk, prepared to wait for the only clerk behind the desk.

The desk clerk nodded to us. To my surprise it was the same man—manager or assistant manager—who had checked out Jeff's room when I came by more than eighteen hours ago. He must have a crummy schedule!

“Hello, Mrs. Woodyard,” he said. “I hope Mr. Godfrey turned up.”

“Yes, we found him,” I said. “That's what we need to talk to you about.”

The young man frowned. “I'll be with you in a moment.” Then he turned back to the first man. “Could I see some identification, please?”

The waiting man was familiar looking, but I couldn't remember meeting him. I tried not to stare.

He glanced at us with those gigantic dark eyes, then looked back at the manager. “Identification?” he asked. He sounded as if he'd never heard the word.

“Yes, sir.”

The man patted his pockets. “I'm afraid I left it in the car.”

“It's routine,” the manager said. “Our rules require a picture ID.”

“Certainly. I'll just step outside and get it.”

He turned toward the door, gave us another strange look with his equally strange dark eyes, and went out to the silver car.

The manager turned to us. “How can I help you?”

I smiled in what I hoped to be a friendly manner. I quickly explained that my stepson had turned up, but he'd been in a car accident and was now hospitalized. “He'll be in the hospital for several days,” I said. “There's no point in saving his room. We have his room key. So we can pick up his belongings and take them to him now.”

One of Joe's business cards convinced the manager we were solid citizens. He said he'd have the checkout paperwork when we came down with Jeff's stuff.

As the elevator began to move upward, I realized why the man who had been waiting at the desk had been familiar.

“Oh!” I said. “That's why I thought I knew him.”

“Who?”

“That man who was before us at the desk. He looked like Peter Lorre.”

“Is that an actor?”

“Right. He was in
The Maltese Falcon
, playing Joel Cairo.”

“Was he the one with spats?”

“I don't remember spats, but his character is a really spiffy dresser, so that's probably right. Funny to run into someone who looks like him. Maybe he's here for the film festival.”

“Lee, you've lost me completely.”

“I hear that fans dress up as movie characters at these events.”

“You mean Warner Pier is going to be full of Humphrey Bogarts and such?” Joe looked skeptical.

“I guess so. Anyway, it seems odd to run into a guy who
looks like Peter Lorre just a few days before the film festival opens. But if he's a participant, it sort of explains it.”

The elevator door opened, and we got out. I didn't bring
The Maltese Falcon
up again as we walked toward the room. In fact, I didn't bring up anything. It was four in the morning, and the motel guests wouldn't appreciate conversation. Not that we were the only people awake. I could hear television coming from a couple of the rooms we passed, and as we got near Jeff's room a scrawny little guy wearing a straw fedora came walking toward us. He didn't nod or speak. People aren't very friendly at four a.m.

We had to try the key card three times before the door to Jeff's room opened. The room was just as it had been when I visited it earlier. Jeff's shaving kit was on the bathroom counter, and his wheeled duffel bag was at the foot of one of the beds. We checked the closet and opened all the drawers, but there was nothing else. We were back in the hall in two minutes.