Corpse Suzette

U.S. or other countries.... This is great!”
    “What the hell are you
talking about?” Dirk said.
    “Gambling. Anonymous
banking. Same sort of thing. They have them outside the legal boundaries of
countries that might otherwise regulate them. And if there are casinos on Santa
Tesla Island—which is plenty far enough away from the California shore to be in
international waters—there may be anonymous banks, too.”
    She ran over to Tammy’s
desk. “And last night Suzette’s sister told me that Suzette likes to go there,
to gamble, run around the island and look at the lighthouse. Find out, quick,
if there are any anonymous banks on Santa Tesla Island.”
    Tammy did a quick search.
The results popped up on the computer screen.
    She beamed up at Savannah.
“Bingo! There are six of them. Six!”
    Dirk was already heading
for the door. “Find the phone numbers of those banks,” he said, “and fax me a
list of them over to my desk at the station house.”
    “But... but...” Tammy
sputtered. She looked at Savannah. “Why?”
    “Why? Why? I don’t know
why. I peaked with the Santa Tesla Island idea. That was my flash of brilliance
for the morning, maybe for the whole day.” She headed for the kitchen, mug in
hand. “Now, I have to refill my coffee cup”—she lowered her voice and whispered—“and
eat that other Danish before Abigail gets up. I swear, she’s almost as bad as I
am about coffee and pastries first thing in the morning. Yesterday she ate my
last French cruller before I could even...”
     
    * * *
     
    They found out Dirk’s “why”
less than half an hour later when he called from his desk at the police
station.
    “We’ve got a lead,” he said
the moment Savannah answered the phone. “A real lead. A solid, bonafide lead.
You were hot with that Santa Tesla bank business, Savannah, my girl.”
    Savannah winked at Tammy,
who was standing nearby, jumping up and down with excitement. “He says we’ve
got something.” Then, to Dirk, she said, “What? What do we have?”
    “I’m looking at phone
records right now from Emerge.”
    “Emerge phone records,” she
told Tammy.
    “And there were two phone
calls from there to one of the numbers on Tammy’s list of anonymous banks.”
    “Yay! Tam, somebody from
Emerge called one of your banks. Twice!”
    Tammy went from jumping to
a full-fledged cheerleader routine... everything but the pom-poms.
    Savannah turned away so
that she could concentrate on the call.
    From the living room they
heard a groggy, “Hey, wanna keep it down in there? Person sleeping here!”
    “Which bank?” Savannah
asked him.
    “Lighthouse Security.”
    Savannah grinned. The adrenaline
that was hitting her bloodstream was far more stimulating than any mixture of
sugar and caffeine. “I guess you and I are going to do some island hopping very
soon. Eh, big boy?”
    She heard him chuckle on
the other end. It was an evil, nasty chuckle that reminded her why she loved
him so much. “Oo-o-oh yes, babe,” he said. “Right away.”

Chapter

19
     
     
     
    “Y ou’re the captain of this
boat?” Savannah asked, hoping it wasn’t true. When she had spoken to this guy
earlier on the phone, she had imagined someone who looked a lot more like
Russell Crowe, Errol Flynn or, on a good day, one of those hunks with the
bulging biceps and a strategically ripped shirt on the cover of a romance
novel.
    This skinny, slovenly
kid—with mustard and ketchup stains on the front of his T-shirt and knobby
knees sticking out of cargo shorts that were about to fall off him—just didn’t
cut it, fantasy-wise.
    “I’m captain of this catamaran ,”
he told her, squaring his thin shoulders.
    “Boat, ship, catamaran...
what’s the difference?”
    “Boat.” He pointed to a
dingy tied at the dock. “Catamaran.” He pointed to the deck beneath their
feet—the deck of a sizable ferry designed for carrying over one hundred
passengers to and from Santa Tesla Island at a high speed.
    “Ah,” she said, “it’s a
matter of size.” Then under her breath, she muttered, “Ain’t it always with you
guys.”
    Docked nearby was a similar
vessel, and she could see Dirk standing on the deck of that one, showing
pictures of Suzette Du Bois to the crew. Together, they had interviewed nearly
all of the ships that provided passage to and from the San Carmelita harbor and
the island, and so far... no luck.
    She took the two pictures
from her inside jacket pocket and shoved them under