“You’ve got that right,” Twink replied. “And unless I miss my guess, she has that Piper of hers all gassed up and waiting.”
If Shelley was on her way to the airport, so were Twink and I, but we couldn’t very well go racing after a fleeing felon with a twelve-year-old innocent bystander doing a ride-along.
“Is the Driftwood on the way to the airport?”
“It could be.”
I gave the problem some thought. If Shelley was planning on hiding out somewhere in the interior of Alaska, a BOLO would eventually turn up her vehicle. But I know enough about airport issues to understand that even when using private aircraft, getting into and out of airports takes time. It seemed to me that pausing our tail long enough to unload Jimmy was worth the risk of possibly losing sight of our target.
I swung around and held out my hand. “Give me the phone,” I said.
“But I’m not done—” Jimmy began.
“Give me the damn phone,” I repeated, “but don’t hang up. I need to talk to your mom.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jimmy complied.
“Nitz,” I said. “How close are you?”
“Probably fifteen minutes out. Why?”
“Do you know where the Driftwood Inn is?”
“Yes, of course.”
“That’s where I’m staying. My driver and I have an errand to run, and we need to drop Jimmy off. We’ll let him out there and have him wait for you in the lobby.”
“Wouldn’t it be simpler if I just went to my dad’s place to begin with?” Nitz asked. “I need to have it out with him sooner or later, and I could just as well get it over with.”
“Trust me on this,” I said. “Going to your father’s place right now is not a good idea. We’ll drop Jimmy at the hotel lobby and ask the desk clerk to keep an eye on him until you get there.”
“But I’m so mad at him—” she began.
“Don’t be,” I advised. “I think he’s a pretty squared-away kid, and you haven’t been straight with him. If I’d just learned that the people I love had been lying to me my whole life, I think I’d be pissed off, too. So why don’t you start by telling him the whole story?”
“All of it?”
“All of it,” I said. “After all, it’s his life, too.”
Chapter 31
By the time the call with Nitz ended, I realized Twink was talking on her phone. “That’s right, Fred,” she was saying. “We’ll pull up at the door and drop him off. His mom’s on his way.”
“Who’s Fred?” I asked.
“The nighttime desk clerk,” Twink answered. “Who do you think? He’ll give the kid some hot chocolate and have him wait in the lobby.
With my phone still in hand, I tried dialing Marvin. The call went to voice mail just as we pulled up to the Driftwood Inn. Fred was standing outside waiting to take charge of Jimmy the moment he stepped out of the Travelall. Clearly Twink’s boots-on-the-ground knowledge had saved the day.
“How far to the airport?” I asked as we peeled away from the hotel.
“Fifteen to twenty,” Twink replied.
“Make that fifteen,” I told her. “I’m going to try Lieutenant Price again. We need reinforcements.”
I dialed his cell phone and was frustrated when once again my call went straight to voice mail. “It’s Beau,” I told him. “Call me. It’s urgent.”
Of course I knew what he was up against at that point. Once a homicide cop has been handed a case, that instantly becomes his whole priority. Everything else fades to insignificance. Nothing else matters. The problem was, I didn’t like being on the wrong side of that otherwise completely understandable barrier.
“Do you think Shelley’s armed?” Twink asked.
“She wasn’t when I saw her at the house, but she might be now.”
“What about you?”
“Twice over,” I replied, meaning of course weapon and backup weapon. I didn’t need to ask whether Twink was carrying. She’d already told me about the rifle under her seat and the Colt .45 in her glovebox.
“What I’m really missing right about now is a Kevlar vest,” I added.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said. “Do you think Price will be able to arrest her?”
“I don’t know about an arrest,” I admitted. “Everything we have on Chris Danielson’s possible homicide is circumstantial. There might be enough there to take her in for questioning. Right now the best we can hope for is wire fraud. We have actual evidence on that. With any luck that will be enough for them to issue an arrest warrant.”
The phone rang just then with Marvin Price’s name in the caller ID window. “Great minds,” he said. “You were going to be my next call. For a change the AST is riding to the rescue instead of giving me grief. Harry Raines contacted Captain Blake Fordham earlier this afternoon and told him that the DNA profile from Jared Danielson has confirmed that the human remains previously known as Geoffrey 4/25/2008 have now been identified as belonging to Christopher Anthony Danielson.”
I allowed myself a sigh of relief. Chris was dead, but at least he was found.
“Harry suggested that a good starting point would be to contact you or Homer PD,” Marvin continued. “Between calling in Homer PD or a visiting private eye . . .”
“Never mind,” I said impatiently. “I know the drill, get to the point.”
“Once I told Fordham what we had, particularly the blood evidence in the back of the Subaru, he was willing to go for a homicide arrest warrant. He’s faxing it over, and I’m waiting to have it in hand before I head out to take Shelley Adams into custody.”
“Sounds good,” I said, “but you’d better get a move on. I have it on good authority that Shelley Adams is on her way out of Dodge. She’s headed for the airport.”
“Here in Homer?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Her Piper’s tied down there, and she’s probably planning to fly herself out. We’re en route there now.”
“Who’s we?” Marvin asked.
“My driver and I. Her name’s Winkleman.”
“Not Twink?” Marvin replied. “Really? Tell her I said hello. She gave me a lift from Anchorage to Homer once. I was bringing an escaped convict back to Alaska from Arkansas. When the plane finally landed, the only driver in Anchorage willing to go the distance from there to Homer was Twinkle Winkleman.”
Clearly my traveling companion was every bit as much of an Alaskan legend as the late Jack Loveday had been. Marvin remembered Twink, and she probably remembered him, too.
“Marvin Price says hello,” I told her, putting the phone on speaker.
“Right back at him,” came the reply.
“So where are you?”
“About three miles out,” Twink said, answering for both of us.
“And you’re sure she’s there?”
“Reasonably sure,” I said. “Not one hundred percent, because we don't have eyes on her vehicle.”
“One hundred percent or no, I’ll dispatch units as soon as I’m off the phone here, and once I have the warrant in hand, I’ll be on my way there, too.”