Gus thumbed at the parking lot behind them. “Uh oh.”
Nick turned to see Sergeant Dickerson straighten away from the driver’s seat of his squad car and signal for Nick. “Mentioning duct tape and Jello was a bad Karma move, Rach. See what happens when you throw the cosmos out of balance with accusations and innuendo?”
“Yeah, I’m really sure Sergeant Dickerson looks like someone shot his dog because of my mentioning horrible practical jokes from your past… oh wait… I hear the Karma train pulling into the station… maybe this is about your insensitive treatment of the poor woman who married you.”
Nick enjoyed Rachel’s upbraiding along with Gus and John, but kept his eyes on Dickerson as he handed over his Irish coffee to Rachel. “I bet I can guess this one. Formsby decided to haunt me one last time before Paul erases any thread connecting us. Don’t throw away my Irish, Hon.”
“I’ll think about it, Mr. Jello. The wind tends to blow the sand around though.”
Nick stopped. “There’s no wind today, Rach.”
“Just sayin’.”
At Dickerson’s squad car, Nick made a friendly wave gesture. “Neil. You must really like me today. Too much coffee from the new machine I bought the PD, huh?”
“Step inside my office for a moment, Nick. I have another matter to discuss with you about your dinner last night at ‘The Grotto’.”
“Sure.” Bingo! Nick slipped into the squad car’s front passenger seat, a questioning look on his features as he met Dickerson’s gaze before closing the door. “You did want me in the front, right?”
“Close the door. Do you know a man named Milton Formsby?”
“You already know I do.”
“Formsby’s people said he had a meeting scheduled with you last night at ‘The Grotto’, and he never returned from the meeting. In their words, ‘it’s like he vanished’. Also missing are his two bodyguards, who you accompanied to his limousine. Would you like to tell me about it?”
“Absolutely. Two guys interrupted a very nice dinner I was enjoying with Rachel and Jean, insisting on all of us meeting with their boss in the parking lot. I explained that would not be possible, but I’d be happy to go along with them. They reluctantly agreed, and I followed them to the limo. Milton Formsby introduced himself. He then offered me a large amount of money to ghost write his autobiography. I explained I don’t write any nonfiction under any circumstances. I hate that genre, especially autobiographies. He was disappointed, but Formsby could tell I would not change my mind. I had him drop me off at my friend John’s place that I own in the Carmel Valley. Formsby mentioned he owned an estate somewhere in the Valley.”
“Did he mention where he was going after he dropped you off?”
“No, but I assumed he was going home,” Nick replied.
Dickerson shook his head, gripping the steering wheel. “This isn’t going away, Nick. Formsby’s people want a complete investigation. I was ordered to locate Formsby no matter what.”
“Have you pinged his cell, or the limo GPS gizmo?”
“Of course. Nothing at all from either,” Dickerson answered. “How does a limousine, its owner, and two bodyguards suddenly disappear after talking briefly with you about a writing assignment?”
“I don’t know, Neil. Formsby never said what he did for a living, or why anyone would be interested in reading a book about him. Maybe I should have taken the gig. He probably wanted a lot of fiction thrown in as filler.”
“When are you going on the book signing thing in Washington? Soon, I hope.”
“Pretty soon. I still have to make a few more arrangements with my agent. Are you telling me to get out of town?”
“No. I know we won’t be the only ones looking at the video footage from last night. If Formsby doesn’t reappear soon, there will be others investigating his disappearance.”
“Well okay, thanks for the warning. I’ll be within reach,” Nick said. “I’m only going to Washington State. You have my cell number. Call me anytime if you have questions, or some other organization needs to hear my story.”
“Will do. I’m glad you have friends in all the government organizations. I think such connections will come in handy right now. It may be as soon as tomorrow if we don’t find a clue as to where he is.”
“I’ll be here,” Nick replied, wondering whether he could zip down to Los Alamos, snatch Didricson, stash him in the Carmel Valley interrogation center, and get home in time for unwanted company. Nick exited the squad car, trying to decide if he wanted to find out. “I hope you locate him, and all this is just a misunderstanding.”
“I doubt it, but I guess we can hope. See you later.”
Nick rejoined Rachel and friends, plunking down in the beach chair, and accepting his Irish coffee from Rachel again. He cautiously took a sip, hoping it was only cool, and not gritty.