Waiting and Watching (15 page)

“I have no idea,” Julio said, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“Why don't I get you one of my Valiums to relax you?” Sylvia suggested.

“No thanks. I have to get up early and go into the office. Although I admit, it's going to be hard to work after that little surprise. I'll try doing some research on Vreeland to figure out what this charade is all about.”

Sunday—September 21, 1986

Julio woke up to the nagging sound of the phone ringing.

“He/She looks like they're really moving out this time!”

Julio rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. It was three in the morning, so this must be Sylvia. Who else would be up at this hour?

“Sylvia, I can't believe you. How do you know it's the real Beth Vreeland moving out this time?”

“Well, it's her car and it's pulled up out front and someone's loading it up.”

“Sylvia, can you get me the make and license plate of the car without being noticed?”

“Are you kidding? I already have it. Relax, handsome. I've already traced the plates.”

“You're unbelievable, Sylvia. Who is the car registered to and how did you determine the owner?”

“I know a retired Miami-Dade cop. He owed me big time from our Thursday afternoon poker games. So I told him he had three options—pay up, get me the registered car owner, or run naked down…”

“Sylvia, “please spare me the visuals.”

“Well, you asked.”

“Yeah, my mistake. What did he find out?”

“The car is a 1985 black Cadillac Seville, registered to Beth Vreeland. I saw he/she get into the car and I waved down a taxi outside. The driver and I followed him to a bar called The Lower Level. It's a gay bar.”

“Sylvia, you are one in a million. You just earned yourself two Rob Roys and another dinner.”

“Okay, great, but why just two Rob Roys?” Sylvia asked.

“I like my dates conscious when I take them home.”

“Ooh, that sounds promising.”

“I just don't want to have to carry you. The doorman is already giving me snake eyes over the last time I brought you home drunk on your ass.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Julio. Why don't you try it sometime?”

“You're scaring me, Sylvia.”

“Relax. I'm just messing with you. It makes me feel young and glamorous when you ask me out, even if I have to earn it. I just hope my outfit from Victoria Secret gets here in time for our next dinner date. I thought afterwards we could have a drink at The Lower Level.”

“I don't think you and I would fit in there, Sylvia.”

“There you go, getting all stuffy again.”

“No, it's just that I'm not sure what all goes on in a gay bar. I have some buddies at work who might hang out there. I'll check with them.”

Monday—September 22, 1986

Julio waited until ten Monday morning to place the calls to the three men whose names Sylvia found in the Vreeland apartment. Two of the men lived in Boca and the third in Omaha, Nebraska. Each time he called, a woman answered. Julio said that Mrs. Vreeland had been his realtor and he was trying to reach her. They all admitted knowing and using her as a realtor, but they had lost contact with her. Julio left his phone number and asked if they heard anything that it was important for him to find her. After placing those calls, Julio called Connie to fill her in.

“How's your girlfriend, Sylvia, doing?” Connie asked.

“Well, she tried to drug me with a Valium this morning, but other than that she is loving the mystery surrounding Beth Vreeland. And she's become just about indispensable. Would you believe she's a retired private investigator?”

“It looks like she's come along at just the right time, and she sounds just like all the other women who can't resist your charms.”

“Well, she's definitely taken up all my time lately. Not that I mind. She's a real firecracker. If she were about thirty years younger…”

“Well,” Connie said, “she sounds like a lot of fun and apparently knows her business. I say keep her on the case. If there's something to find out about the impersonator, I bet Sylvia will uncover it. She definitely has her eyes and ears open.”

“Yeah, but I worry about her doing something crazy.”

“Like what?”

“Well, she's been watching the Vreeland apartment and last night she followed one of the occupants in a taxi into a rather dangerous area of the city. It was after midnight and she was alone, except for the cab driver. She's not afraid to take chances and that worries me.”

“Does she drive?” Connie asked.

“No, thank God. She doesn't have a car or a license anymore.”

“I think I'd like to meet Sylvia next time I'm out there. So far, she's come up with some smart ideas and may have more.”

“How's Andrew?”

“He's great, but really busy trying to play catch-up since his stay in Cincinnati. Things have been so crazy I haven't even had time to talk to you about Andrew. I guess this is as good a time as any. I'm making plans to move to New York. Do you think it's a wise decision?”

“Isn't that a bit fast? You two must have done some serious talking once I left the inn.”

“We did, once things settled down and I overcame my shock over Martin, I realized there was no life for me to go back to in Utah. I haven't been living, only existing and I didn't realize it until I saw Andrew again. I can honestly say I'm happy and it's the first time I've been happy since my life disintegrated in 1964. I'm going to visit him in a few days, so I'll see how that goes.”

“You know I love Andrew like a brother. My heart leaped when I saw him again. He's the long lost family member I've always missed. But Connie, do you really know him now? It's been twenty-two years and people change. I want you both to be happy, but get reacquainted with him first.”

“I will. This trip to New York will help me to see him in his own environment and we'll have lots of time to talk. I can't wait to see where he lives and works. I promise I'll try to slow this down if I can. I just can't help but think I'm making up for lost time. And thanks for saying you love him, too. I can't even tell you what joy that brings me.”

“Well, have a wonderful trip and give my love to Andrew. Call me when you get back so I can have the full report.”

“You know I will.”

Todd Bridgeland came through his front door on his return home from work. He kissed his wife, Nancy, asked what was for dinner and immediately began opening the mail. He put the stack of mail down next to the phone on the kitchen desk and saw a scrap of paper with the name Vreeland and a phone number next to it. “What's this?” Todd asked Nancy.

“Nothing really. Some guy was looking for our old realtor, Beth Vreeland, and wondered if we knew how to contact her. He said it was really important he reach her.”

“I don't think we've heard from Beth Vreeland in about twenty years,” Todd said.

“I know. I told him that, but I said if I heard anything about her I'd call him. Actually, I just took his number to be polite.”

“Well,” Todd said. “We may as well throw it out since we can't help him,” and with that he surreptitiously slipped the note into his pocket.

Tuesday—September 23, 1986

Julio returned to his office after an intense court hearing. He checked his answering machine and heard a message from Todd Bridgeland with a phone number. Julio called him back.

“Todd Bridgeland here.”

“Hi, Todd. My name is Julio Harriman. I left a message with your wife regarding the whereabouts of Beth Vreeland. Do you have some information that can help me locate her?”

“I may,” Todd replied. “First, I'd like to know how you got my name and number.”

“That's a fair question.” Julio's mind was racing for an explanation. “I'm an attorney and we obtained a client list of Beth Vreeland's, and your name was on that list with an address in Omaha,” Julio said confidently.

“Then, may I ask you why you're looking for her?” Todd asked.

“She was a friend of my parents back in Cincinnati.”

“Why do your parents need to contact her?” Todd asked.

Julio was beginning to get irritated with all of Todd's questions and wondering why Todd was so interested in knowing his intentions regarding Beth Vreeland.

Julio replied, “It's regarding a murder investigation.”

“And you think Beth can help you with that?” Todd asked.

“It's possible she could.”

“Well, Julio, I don't have a phone number for her, but she contacts me from time to time. I could give her a message to call you if I should ever hear from her,” Todd replied.

“About how long has it been since you last heard from her?”

Todd replied, “I just heard from her about a month ago.”

Julio kept his composure.

“All I know is that she's in southern Florida somewhere, but I can't remember what city. Is she considered a suspect in this murder?” Todd asked.

“Well, at this point,” Julio remarked, “we haven't ruled her out.”

“Does Beth have a criminal record?” Todd asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“She always seemed a little shady to me,” Todd said.

“Really? In what way?”

“I'm not sure exactly. She just has a suspicious manner about her.”

“Thanks, Todd. That's even more of a reason to let me know if you hear from her. If you could pass along the message that I'm trying to contact her, I'd appreciate it.”

“I'll do that,” Todd replied and then hung up.

Wednesday—September 24, 1986

The following day, Julio groaned as he looked at the pile of work and new phone messages on his desk. He thumbed through the messages and recognized all the names but one. This message said: Regarding Mrs. Vreeland. Julio quickly dialed the number of a Max Ferguson.

“Hello, this is Max.”

“Hello, I'm Julio Harriman, and I'm returning your call regarding Mrs. Vreeland.”

“Thanks,” Max said. “I'm a private investigator and you had left messages for two of my clients to call you regarding Mrs. Vreeland. I'm calling on their behalf. What can I help you with?”

“Well,” Julio said, “I am unofficially looking into an old murder case in Cincinnati, Ohio. The victims were my parents, and I think there might have been some connection between my father and Mrs. Vreeland, so I'm trying to track her down. I've come across some odd things about her. I guess my first question to you, Max, would be—do you know if she's still alive?”

“As far as I know she is. My investigation involving her was about twenty years ago. However, just recently two of my clients contacted me, and they say she's very much alive.”

“Okay Max. I realize due to the confidentiality of your clients, you can't tell me much. However, you might find some of my discoveries of interest. Where are you located?”

“I'm in southern Florida and I take it by your area code that you're nearby,” Max said.

“That's correct. However, if you could contact your clients and see if they would be interested in learning more about her, then let me know. Maybe if we put our information together, we may be able to put together a more all-around picture of Mrs. Vreeland and her whereabouts.”

“I can certainly contact them and see if they want to pursue this.”

“I would appreciate that,” Julio said.

“I'll get back to you, Julio.”

Julio couldn't help the shocked look on his face when he met his two fellow attorneys at a gas station near The Lower Level bar. These two button-down attorneys were in head-to-toe leather and riding Harley-Davidson hogs. The big guy, Otto, yelled, “Hey, Harriman, if you don't mind, we'll take our bikes and meet you there. I have a feeling you may not last too long with that crowd.”

“Yeah, well, I don't think I'm going. I've been thinking about it and this guy could recognize me. It wasn't that long ago that he and I were in the elevator together, just the two of us.”

“Well,” Patrick said. “How are we going to do this then?”

“I don't know,” Julio said. “It sounds like I'm wimping out, but it's not like I'm unwilling to take a grenade for the cause, but he really could recognize me. Look at me. I'd stick out like a sore thumb. And, by the way guys, I'm lovin' the leather look.”

“Listen Harriman, we don't let too many guys see us this way out of the office, but we like you,” Patrick said.

“Now, you're scaring me,” Julio said. “Should I take that as a compliment or a threat?”

“Relax, Harriman. I mean, we trust that you'll keep our little secret. However, you'd be shocked to know who we see in these bars sometimes. We'd tell you, but we leather ladies are discreet.” Otto laughed.

“Well, you can tell that to your pants, 'cause they're missing an ass.”

“Good one, Harriman.”

Laughing out loud, Julio said. “Seriously, I can't believe you're wearing leather pants with the ass cut out.”

“Relax Harriman. It's the style. Now, tell us what we're looking for again.”

“The car is an 85 black Cadillac Seville with the license plate number I LV2 SEL. His mother is a realtor, hence the vanity plate. All I know is that the guy is my height or taller and thin.”

“Yeah Harriman, that will be easy—a tall, thin gay guy in a gay bar. Why don't you give us something difficult?”

“You'll really owe us if we get anywhere on this,” Otto said, shaking his head.

“How about taking it easy on me, guys?”

“A couple gift certificates from Frederick's of Hollywood will suffice,” Otto said with a wink.