Read Online The Howard Hughes Affair: A Toby Peters Mystery (Book Four) by Stuart M. Kaminsky - Free Book Online
Authors: Stuart M. Kaminsky
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he whispered confidentially through his teeth. “People willing to make a commitment to the community. We had a couple of them before the Depression back in ’28, but it fell through. We’ve even got a big hotel almost finished on the beach. Looks just like it did back in ’30.”
I looked around at the trees and listened to the ocean. Then I looked at Alex, who looked at me.
“There’s a point to all this, isn’t there?” I said, “and I’m going to get it soon?”
Nelson took his hat off and did some more work on drying the stained hatband of his straw hat.
“Right,” he said, pointing a finger at me and smiling. “I’ll get there soon. And I’ll try not to bore you. What we have in Mirador instead of fancy resorts and shops with junk, is a handful of people barely making it and another handful of very rich people who like Mirador because it is peaceful and secluded.”
“Like Anton Gurstwald?” I guessed.
“Just like Mr. Gurstwald,” he confirmed.
“And people like Mr. Gurstwald are willing to pay a few extra bucks each month or so to insure that privacy?”
“You are a smart man,” Nelson said, shaking his head in appreciation. “We’d prefer that people who are not wanted by those who value privacy respect that wish. Now you’ve intruded on one of our leading citizens and assaulted a resident.”
“I’m also working for another resident,” I pointed out. “Howard Hughes.”
“Right enough,” said Nelson, “but a man has to make decisions, a sheriff has to make decisions and sometimes they aren’t easy ones. Now Mr. Hughes is really just renting his privacy and he doesn’t pay those few extra dollars to insure it.”
“He just pays his rent and his taxes,” I said, “and those are supposed to give you some rights without kickback.”
Nelson shook his head sadly.
“I believe you are becoming slightly abusive,” he said. “I was hoping we could handle this without abuse. I’m going to have to insist that you leave Mirador and never return.”
I looked deeply into his very moist grey eyes, and he looked back steadily. I had to give him that. He could hold a gaze with the best.
“And suppose I don’t give a shit what you insist?” I whispered.
“Ah, well then, let’s pretend I told you a joke. Here’s the punch line.”
And I got the punch line from Alex, who has stepped silently behind me. He hit me in the right kidney and sent dry ice up my spine. My bladder, filled with three beers, almost let go, but I held on and slipped to my knees.
“I got it,” I gasped.
“Good,” sighed Nelson. “I hoped you would. Please help the man up, Alex.”
Alex helped me up and handed me my hat. I staggered, considered hitting Alex with something, ideally with Sheriff Nelson, and changed my mind.
“Well, it has been nice meeting you, Mr. Peters. Maybe we’ll run into each other in the city some time.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
Alex opened the door of my Buick and helped me inside. Nelson squinted up at the sun and moved to the open window.
“By the way,” he whispered again, “Alex and I noticed that your car had a little accident, front bumper’s been ripped off by a vandal. Alex stuck it in your back seat.”
“Thanks,” I said, making a mental note to charge it to Hughes and give him a full account of what happened. “Anything else that might affect my transportation?”
“No, no,” he grinned, stepping back so I could drive away, “we wouldn’t let anything happen that might prolong your stay in Mirador. Now you know the way out of town, but just in case, we’ll follow behind as an escort.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, trying not to wince from the pain above my kidney. I needed a toilet or a clump of trees fast, but I wasn’t going to find a hospitable place in Mirador.
The drive back to and through Mirador was uneventful. The kid wasn’t on the curb and the cat was gone, but the car door was still there. There were two more cars
I looked around at the trees and listened to the ocean. Then I looked at Alex, who looked at me.
“There’s a point to all this, isn’t there?” I said, “and I’m going to get it soon?”
Nelson took his hat off and did some more work on drying the stained hatband of his straw hat.
“Right,” he said, pointing a finger at me and smiling. “I’ll get there soon. And I’ll try not to bore you. What we have in Mirador instead of fancy resorts and shops with junk, is a handful of people barely making it and another handful of very rich people who like Mirador because it is peaceful and secluded.”
“Like Anton Gurstwald?” I guessed.
“Just like Mr. Gurstwald,” he confirmed.
“And people like Mr. Gurstwald are willing to pay a few extra bucks each month or so to insure that privacy?”
“You are a smart man,” Nelson said, shaking his head in appreciation. “We’d prefer that people who are not wanted by those who value privacy respect that wish. Now you’ve intruded on one of our leading citizens and assaulted a resident.”
“I’m also working for another resident,” I pointed out. “Howard Hughes.”
“Right enough,” said Nelson, “but a man has to make decisions, a sheriff has to make decisions and sometimes they aren’t easy ones. Now Mr. Hughes is really just renting his privacy and he doesn’t pay those few extra dollars to insure it.”
“He just pays his rent and his taxes,” I said, “and those are supposed to give you some rights without kickback.”
Nelson shook his head sadly.
“I believe you are becoming slightly abusive,” he said. “I was hoping we could handle this without abuse. I’m going to have to insist that you leave Mirador and never return.”
I looked deeply into his very moist grey eyes, and he looked back steadily. I had to give him that. He could hold a gaze with the best.
“And suppose I don’t give a shit what you insist?” I whispered.
“Ah, well then, let’s pretend I told you a joke. Here’s the punch line.”
And I got the punch line from Alex, who has stepped silently behind me. He hit me in the right kidney and sent dry ice up my spine. My bladder, filled with three beers, almost let go, but I held on and slipped to my knees.
“I got it,” I gasped.
“Good,” sighed Nelson. “I hoped you would. Please help the man up, Alex.”
Alex helped me up and handed me my hat. I staggered, considered hitting Alex with something, ideally with Sheriff Nelson, and changed my mind.
“Well, it has been nice meeting you, Mr. Peters. Maybe we’ll run into each other in the city some time.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
Alex opened the door of my Buick and helped me inside. Nelson squinted up at the sun and moved to the open window.
“By the way,” he whispered again, “Alex and I noticed that your car had a little accident, front bumper’s been ripped off by a vandal. Alex stuck it in your back seat.”
“Thanks,” I said, making a mental note to charge it to Hughes and give him a full account of what happened. “Anything else that might affect my transportation?”
“No, no,” he grinned, stepping back so I could drive away, “we wouldn’t let anything happen that might prolong your stay in Mirador. Now you know the way out of town, but just in case, we’ll follow behind as an escort.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, trying not to wince from the pain above my kidney. I needed a toilet or a clump of trees fast, but I wasn’t going to find a hospitable place in Mirador.
The drive back to and through Mirador was uneventful. The kid wasn’t on the curb and the cat was gone, but the car door was still there. There were two more cars
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