F³ Nerd Nobility 37

             Nikki dressed in all black and ditched her heels for more practical boots. I didn’t expect we would have a situation that went out of control. After all, she was just going to make everyone nice and docile using her vampire mojo while I sat in the background. I didn’t normally like when she did that, but there was a certain expediency to it, namely in getting info without causing any kind of big brouhaha. I certainly had ways of getting the info using normal surveillance and discrete questioning, but that would take time, and Nikki was already testy. 

This way, we could allow the people who were just doing their jobs like the guys at the hangar and didn’t know of anything illegal could just get out of the way. Okay, so the guys at the hangar were technically sidestepping customs and FDA regulations regarding foods, but I didn’t care about that. Fancy people want to blow all their cash on potentially tainted food, fine by me.

“What is the plan?” Nikki asked.

“I have a plan?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the road.

“Matthew, do not be tiresome. I’m sure that even before my arrival you had worked out a method to track down our objective.”

“Yeah, but if I just do it, I look cool and knowledgeable,” I grinned. “If I explain it, I sound geeky and nerdy.”

“Let me assure you, your encyclopedic knowledge of hard-boiled detective books and film, coupled with mythology and folklore secure you a permanent position of geek and nerd nobility, if not part of the royal court.”

I snuck a glance her way. Completely stone-faced. Not even a hint of mirth or irony.

“You really know how to hurt a guy. Okay. Just remember, you asked for it.”

I steered us onto the westbound loop, headed straight for Shoreward.

“So, I downloaded the harbor schedule going back a few days. It’s a matter of public record which ships arrive in port and at what times. Also, some of these ships, as big and loaded as they are, can take days to offload all their containers, even going 24/7. So, our job is to go and contact the dockmasters of each dock that had a ship during that time. The delivery yesterday was at four, so we know any ship that arrived after that time is off the list. We talk to the dockmasters, giving them the truck and trailer numbers, and they look up the info for us. The one that has the info is the dock and ship we need. Then we can proceed to ask drivers and ship’s crew for more information. There’s every chance they’re innocent as well, but there’s also a good possibility of more shipments to be taken over.”

“I would expect as such if they took the trouble to bring ships across the Pacific. Perhaps different people ordering from the same vendor?” Nikki suggested.

“You’re pretty nerdy about this, too,” I smirked.

F³ Wrong Venue 36

             Nikki came in a Jaguar, a car I had always thought about wanting to drive, but there was no way on what I made. And while I was sure she would let me take the wheel, tonight, it was also the completely wrong car.

            “What’s this?” I asked, after opening the door. Or rather, I would have if my jaw hadn’t dropped at seeing her in a rhinestone-studded gown.

            “I should ask the same. Where is your tuxedo?”

            I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from rolling them. “Okay, clearly we’re miscommunicating on this. You think we should go back to the Club, presumably to search for whatever was dropped off.”

            “Correct,” she nodded.

            Her hair was perfectly style in long curls, and they bounced with unnatural springiness at her nod.

            “You know, I would love to do that, and especially I would love to dance with you dolled up like that, but that’s not the play.”

She compressed her lips to f a flat line that demanded explanation.

            “Right, so, we’d have to break into storage units or you’d have to find out who stashed what where in order to find out who got what and what’s in it. That’s a lot of haystacks for a few needles. If they got a shipment of something exotic from overseas, it likely came from the docks.” I pulled out my phone. “I’ve got a list of the ships that made port this week. We can check their docks and find the truck. If we’re lucky, we can even question the driver, and maybe even see what else the ship might be carrying. There’s a good chance that there will be other shipments off those boats that go to the club.”

            “I shall need to change.”

            “I’ll watch,” I quipped, grinning.

            Now she smirked. “We both know that I have invited you to do so before, but you adhere to some strange chivalric code that your detective heroes did not. But I encourage you to do so.”

            One of these days I’m going to learn not to spar with her like that.

F³ Optimal Recognition 35

             It was back to more surveillance. A couple of weeks went by as I tracked vehicles, but nothing tripped any alerts. I was beginning to feel stretched out by having to comb through so much footage, even at fast forward. Plus, life just went on. I had other cases to take in order to keep paying the bills and not go insane by focusing exclusively on Nikki’s stuff.

            Finally, at about three pm on Wednesday, a semi-truck arrived. It was a completely plain truck, only marked by looking like the old-school Optimus Prime flat-faced cab. But those style of trucks weren’t popular much, anymore. It might be enough. Oh, and the truck decal number emblazoned on the cab and trailer. I sure didn’t have Department of Transportation record privileges, but I didn’t need them in order to match up the numbers.

            I took screenshots and forwarded them to Nikki.

            She texted me back, right away. ‘Tonight, midnight.’

            ‘Really? Cliché much? Some of us aren’t immortal vampires and need sleep.’

            ‘We dare not wait for the trail to go cold. Must move on this.’

            ‘Sure, but you know, maybe we could do it much earlier? How about 8? ;P’

            ‘I’m not sure I approve of you using emojis, Matthew. It lacks a certain sophistication, or at least an old-school charm, which you’ve come to represent.’

            ‘Cassie’s a bad influence. At least I’m not shortening words to a single syllable.’

            ‘Quite.’

F³ Goose Chase 34

             Martin handed me the printouts. I asked to see pictures of the cargo crates, which were non-descript, refrigerated cases. The units plugged into the plane’s power to refrigerate the contents, and were all locked. Next, I checked the bills of lading, which were also pretty sanitized of any real clue of what was inside. Any kind of chemical, dangerous item, or perishable that would have red-flagged customs was omitted from the description.

            “You got a blank client contract?”

            Martin shrugged, then nodded, calling up a pdf file.

            “Print it, please.”

            I started skimming each page as it came off the printer. While I didn’t have the legal training, contracts were helpfully labeled by section, and I finally found what I wanted, the language about dangerous cargo. Quite clearly, the company wouldn’t transport anything that might be considered dangerous with regards to risk of explosion, toxic exposure, or other kind of hazardous material, nor would they transport living cargo. And that left only the most probable thing a bunch of snobby rich people could want from Europe.

            “We’re all done,” I told Martin. “Thanks.”

            Nikki opened the office door, looking decidedly unhappy.

            Nikki and I got back in the car, where she finally let it out. “Foie gras,” she seethed. “Caviar, unpasteurized milk and cheese, and other rare and exotic foods.”

            “Yeah, afraid so,” I said. “It’s been a real wild goose chase. Or maybe duck.”

            Despite how bad the joke was, Nikki’s lips quirked, fighting the smile. “That was terrible, Matthew.”

            “I know, but sometimes that’s all we’re left with after chasing a lead. How about some dinner?”

            “Yes, but we shall not be having French.”

            “Fine by me.”

F³ Unexpected Cargo 33

 

We followed the guy in, where a couple of other guys poked their head around pallets of crates they were sweeping around.

            “We may need to speak to your crew, too,” I said.

            Nikki gave me the side-eye. “Just a few questions,” she added, “nothing time consuming.”

            “Russ, Javier,” he beckoned them with the tablet. “These officials have a few questions for you about recent delivery to the Fairhaven Club. Hey, while you’re asking them, can I look up the files on the computer for you?”

            I glanced at Nikki. I wasn’t sure how well her trick with wrapping a person up in her will worked on people away from her.

She nodded to the man. “That will be fine.”

“I’ll lend you a hand,” I said.

I followed Martin—I finally just asked for his name and gave mine as Jimmy Freeman, what was already listed on my inspector ID—into the office. Barely more than a closet, it was clear the space was just for one person to do computer work and not for any kind of meetings, unless it was by phone.

Martin started clicking and typing away, searching for deliveries by address, in this case, the Fairhaven Club. Up came a list as long as my arm. The originating address came from about a dozen places spread across European countries and Canada. The address didn’t come with any business names for the originating address, but the client account that paid for shipping was there. Unfortunately, there were a couple of dozen of those, as well.

“Can you print these for me?” I asked.

He nodded, then clicked on the options.

I’d be able to chase down the names of businesses later.

As the printer whirred, something stood out to me on the screen. “This column, what does R mean?”

“That column’s for special handling instructions. You know, fragile, any possible dangerous warnings. The R means refrigerated?”

I looked down the list. Every shipment to the Fairhaven Club was refrigerated.

“Huh,” I said.

F³ Methods of Approach 32

             We pulled up to the cargo company’s hangar as the sun threatened to dip into the bay. Not quite twilight, it was close enough given the shade the hangar provided. Nikki and I got out of her car and strolled up to the building. They weren’t closed, yet, but looked to be going that route. One man marked our approach, tucked his tablet computer against his leg and walked to meet us while sizing us up.

            I was in my normal clothes. Shirt and tie and leather jacket. Some—Nikki—might criticize the look, but the leather jacket repelled the ample rain Belport was known for, so I didn’t care. Nikki was in a pinstripe skirt suit, looking like she should be an executive in a Midtown Manhattan high rise. Her confident stride in those heels ate up the tarmac as she closed the distance.

            “Can I help you?” the man asked. He wore a red polo with the company name on it. A little grey in his dark hair and full beard put him in his 40s, and in decent shape for his age.

Nikki came inside the man’s personal space. She showed him a picture on her phone, captured from the night vision camera showing the truck delivering to the Fairhaven Club. “I’m an official person. It’s in your best interest to cooperate with my request. You make deliveries to the Fairhaven Club. I want to know how often and what’s in them.”

For a moment the man frowned and his brow furrowed, looking like he was about to tell Nikki to go away, but then his expression softened. “Right now? Sure, I guess. Wish you people would call ahead for this stuff, maybe come earlier when we’re not closing up?” He turned away, beckoning us to follow. “Oh well, come on.”

“Much easier and faster than your approach,” Nikki whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes. I guess I would have to use my inspector ID another time.

“Show-off,” I whispered.

F³ Stakeouts Will Never Be The Same 31

             After that first night, Nikki didn’t join me on the stakeout. I didn’t blame her. I decided to take some of Nikki’s fee and go hi-tech. On Ira’s recommendation, I got a couple of good night-vision cameras and set them up. I had a down the street shot and one from above on the roof of the building across from the dock. The hardest part wasn’t climbing up the fire escapes, but remembering Ira’s instructions for setting them up.

            I didn’t even have to change tapes or memory cards as they uploaded to the cloud. From there, I could watch the cameras on fast forward, going through an entire day’s recording in about two hours. Stakeouts would never be the same.

The angles got me company logos and truck numbers, but nothing stuck out. Most were local places, bringing in the food, merch, and laundry for the club, which made sense. But then, on day four, I caught a break.

            Two box trucks came back-to-back. They turned out to be from a cargo place that worked out of the Belport airport. I had been expecting the port, especially if they were bringing it in from Japan, China, and Russia, but the airport was plausible for other kinds of goods. I wouldn’t put it past some private charter plane to slip things past customs.

            I called up Nikki. “You ready for the urgent part?”

F³ Detective Drudgery 30

             “Matthew, wake up.”

            Nikki’s voice was distant and jarring as it broke the dream I was having. The sensation of floating disappeared and I felt the weight of my eyelids as I forced them open, and tried to get my neck to work. It was sore from the angle my head had flopped at.

            “What is it?” I croaked. My mouth was dry.

            “A large truck just turned down the street. This could be the one.”

            I rubbed at my eyes, trying to force them to focus, then pulled up my camera. I had to blink a couple of times, but finally zoomed in on the truck’s logo to snap a picture. I did the same for the license plate. I couldn’t make either, out, but the camera could had a low-light function the same as any smartphone, the difference being my camera did it in about a tenth of a second instead of taking 10 seconds.

            Everything looked promising as they slowed down when they came up to the docks, but after about thirty seconds, they drove on, going two more streets down before turning a corner.

            “Sorry, toots, they don’t always pan out.”

            “I’m beginning to think that I should have left the drudgery to you.”

            “Yeah, stakeouts are definitely drudgery, but that’s detective work for you.”

            “Ha!”

            “What do you mean ‘Ha’?” I asked.

            “Matthew, your detective work has been anything but drudgery for many years. Vampires, a mystical serial killer, succubi, witches, wizards, and mystical artifacts. Hardly drudgery.”

            “You have a point, but then you generally are only aware of the terrifying parts. Even in all that there’s legwork and drudgery.”

            “But that time should have passed as you’ve already done it.”

            “Hate to break it to you, Doll, but even if that truck had stopped at the docks, the drudgery would continue. We don’t know if it’s that truck, or even if there’s only one. And there’s more drudgery after that.”

            “I had thought asking a detective to untangle political intrigue would be more . . . urgent.”

            “Only in the movies. Got any more coffee?”

F³ Probabilities 29

             Nikki had also brought gyros from Kairos’s, just a couple blocks away from my office, which, if she hadn’t been a vampire, would have been enough in my book to make her a saint.

            “However did you discover these loading docks belonged to the Fairhaven Club?”

            I took her through my bureaucratic adventure at the city planner.

            “And you are sure that work was done to connect them to the club?”

            “Uh-uh,” I said with a mouthful of gyro. “I love this tzatziki sauce. It’s good enough to be a drug.”

            “So we are relying on your detective acumen in deduction for this?”

            “Pretty much.”

            “Please tell me you are not going to quote Holmes, now.”

            I shook my head. “Holmes had it easy,” I said after swallowing. “Sure, you always have to eliminate possibilities, but when you got five suspects because they’re locked in a mansion, train, boat, whatever, it’s pretty easy. I can’t eliminate all the possibilities or impossibilities, especially when dealing with the supernatural. But I can look at what’s probable. Let me ask you, what’s more likely, a super-secret warehouse a mile away with an underground railway to the club or a speakeasy-era tunnel that used to smuggle booze and now smuggles antiques and artifacts?”

            “I see your point. Well, we should see the arrival of these trucks over the course of the night, correct? Darkness for dark business, as it were?”

            I shrugged. “Maybe, but then again, maybe not. Depends on how well they dummy up the paperwork for customs. Can you imagine a better way to get the stuff here than to have regular union guys doing all the work? If we get people coming at midnight, then they know what it is they’re bringing in. Not saying that’s the case; I’m sure some of the guys in your secret club are brilliant criminal masterminds, but I’m sure some of them are not very bright.”

            “And what makes you say that?”

            “Well, they kept you out of it, for one thing.”

            She smiled at that.

            “Any chance you brought more coffee?”

            She produced a large thermos from the bag from Kairos’s.

F³ The Way to A Detective's Heart 28

The Fairhaven Club was just that, a club; well, they would no doubt call it a private society. Semantics aside, they didn’t do that much business. Even Nikki’s Blackthorn Club boasted a higher number of people that used the place. And no matter how much merch the Fairhaven Club had, no matter how much food and booze they consumed, they didn’t take in that much in deliveries, so there was no need for loading docks. But if the members were filling those storage rooms underneath, then they were using the place to smuggle stuff in. Antiques and artifacts, especially, would take up a lot of room, like on a freight truck.

The building with the loading docks had once been a furniture place with its own shop to actually make the stuff. But they went out of business decades ago, and, like lots of places that had been upgraded over time, the original building had been sliced into pieces with partitions put up, converting them all into little shops. The shop with the docks was the smallest of the bunch, and likely why it was just a kitschy souvenir shop.

            My jaw cracked as I yawned again, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. Stakeouts were very boring. It was even worse when I had only gotten a few hours of sleep. After I was done at the city planner’s office, I needed to be parked somewhere inconspicuous with an eye on the street accessing the Club’s loading docks. For once, something was in my favor.

Fairhaven was an old town. Not as old as those in my old stomping grounds of Boston, but old enough to predate cars. A lot of the streets were one-way because they were narrow; large trucks needed wide lanes in order to back into the docks. This street wasn’t that wide, but it did have signs that prohibited street parking on that particular stretch. However, I was parked on the connecting street with a clear view of where any trucks could turn into those loading docks.

Unfortunately, there was no way to know when, or how often, a freight truck would drop something off at the docks that the Club had appropriated. I spent all day watching and tracking the trucks. Mostly it was the usual suspects, UPS, Fedex, Amazon, DHL, and a couple of local places, Speedway, OnTime, etc., but I saw a few private delivery trucks, too. These were the smaller box trucks, but they could have the stuff I was looking for.

It was evening, and I swear I had only closed my eyes for a minute when there was a knock on my window. I thought I was going to have to explain to some cop why I was there, but instead it was Nikki, bearing coffee.

At first whiff, I said, “I love you.”

“Had I known I would receive your affections just for coffee, I would have provided you all that you asked,” Nikki said after passing me the extra-large cup.

“I was talking to the coffee,” I said.