The Case Of The Phantom Diver Ch 19

"Asshole," Phinn muttered, staring at the dead body.

"Phinn!" Jake hissed, glancing around the tiny bathroom and out into the motel room.

"Don't Phinn me. He couldn't wait to get shot until after we asked our questions? How about ducking and running next time?" the scrawny sleuth challenged the corpse.

"Shit, we better call 911," Jake realized. He started to turn, but his partner stopped him.

"Not yet."

"Look, I don't think he's been dead long. That blood hasn't dried at all. If we call the cops, they might be able to catch--"

"The cops ain't catching shit!" Phinn barked. "And you're right about one thing. The murder likely took place while we wasted time with Regina."

"Hey, don't blame me for wanting to stop. You agreed to it!" Jake pointed out.

"Fine, fine. Let me think for a moment," Phinn said.

The bespectacled investigator shuffled around the cramped space while he studied Oswald Cozart's body. The fake author didn't appear to have been caught lounging around his outdated room by the killer. No, he was still dressed for his role in his sharp suit. However, the jacket was wide open with his tie askew. Several red marks lay scattered across his face.

Playing out several possible scenarios in his mind, Phinn eventually agreed on one. Stepping forward, he went to check his theory.

"Phinn!" Jake hissed when his oldest friend grabbed Cozart's hair to pull his head forward.

"Ah, the bruising had already started before he was shot," Phinn noted, the evidence matching his scenario.

"Bruising? What--Where are you going?" the stocky detective asked as the skinnier one slipped past him into the main room.

Instead of answering, Phinn stood in front of the bathroom while surveying the bed, desk, nightstand, and dresser. Barely turning around, he ordered Jake to search Cozart's pockets.

"Jesus, we can't tamper with the evidence. It's bad enough that you--"

"What's the point? Our fingerprints are all over this room already. Just look to see if he has his phone," Phinn explained. "We don't have much time."

Jake grumbled, but he moved closer to the corpse.

"Sorry about this, man," the empathetic teen apologized before reaching into the suitcoat's pocket.

Out in the bedroom, Phinn began to spread out the small pile of papers they'd encountered during their search. Skimming each page as swiftly as possible, he snapped off a picture of the material before turning to the next one. Nothing appeared important at first glance. After the fourth piece, Phinn looked up as understanding hit him. Almost simultaneously, Jake finished patting Cozart's pants pockets.

"No phone," he called out.

"Hmm, did you find any car keys?"

"Uh, no," Jake realized, exiting the bathroom. "I'm calling 911."

"No!" Phinn yelled. "How about a wallet?"

"Yeah, it's in his pants pocket."

"Well?"

"Oh, c'mon! Not only don't I want to dig inside a dead man's pants, I shouldn't," Jake pointed out. Phinn refused to take no for an answer. Throwing out his arms, Jake returned to the bathtub.

Two-thirds of the way through the papers, Phinn paused as he spotted a name he'd seen recently. Jotting it down in his mental notebook, he re-encountered the name two pages later. By that time, Jake left the bathroom with a sickened expression.

"Next time, you can grope the corpse," he spat.

"Anything noteworthy?" Phinn asked, not looking up as he reached the second-to-last piece of paper.

"Credit cards, some cash, a few insurance cards, and a New Jersey driver's license. He does seem to be Oswald Cozart," Jake reported.

"I assumed as much," Phinn admitted, causing his friend to grow frustrated.

"Sometimes I could strangle you," Jake groused, mimicking the act with his hands. "You have to stop keeping things from me."

"Fine!" Phinn snapped as he took the last picture. Then, he assembled the papers back into their original pile before placing them in the folder. "First, go out on the balcony and see if you recognize any vehicles."

"It would be nice to know what I'm looking for," Jake muttered, opening the door. Stepping out on the balcony/walkway, he spotted Garth as he dropped back from the building's corner.

Only half scanning the parking lot, Jake saw several older cars, trucks, and one small recreational vehicle. However, the car next to the small camper caused him to perform a double-take. Suddenly aware of why Phinn wanted him to search, he rushed back inside the motel room.

"That's the car from the marina. The one Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses and that old man hopped into with those bags of Spanish doubloons," Jake recounted.

"Good. I think we're finished here. Let's go search Oswald's car," Phinn said, satisfied that the room looked exactly the same as they'd found it.

"But we need to call 911."

"Not until we finish. He's not going anywhere," Phinn remarked, gesturing toward the bathroom. Leaving the room, he added, "I assume Garth is still watching."

"Yeah, he ducked out of sight when I came out. Boy, they're about to get a surprise when the cops show up," Jake commented.

"I'd almost suggest alerting them, as I don't want them scooped up. However, I also don't want Floyd and Garth aware that we know they're following us," Phinn said.

Walking down the stairs, Phinn quietly filled Jake in on what he thought happened. The killer had been waiting inside the motel room when Cozart returned. He or she hit the con artist from behind on the neck. The blow likely came from the gun because the killer used it to keep control of Cozart while the fake author was interrogated. Either the answers weren't to the killer's liking, or the Cozart made a foolish move for the gun.

"Do you think it could be Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses?" Jake asked.

"Or Mindy Moon? I don't know," Phinn admitted. "I think it's doubtful, but one can't rule out a falling out."

Jake had to fight the urge to glance over and check on the Rattigans while they crossed to the other side of the parking lot. Phinn did whisper to check on Mrs. Deason in the motel office.

"She's not watching right now," Jake responded as they reached the camper.

"Ah, you recognized correctly," Phinn complimented, gesturing down at the rear license plate.

"Wait, it didn't have Jersey plates at the marina," Jake recalled, looking down in surprise.

"Only an idiot would keep his real plates on when pulling off a scam," Phinn noted, squeezing between the car and camper.

Unlike regular door locks, Phinn encountered some trouble picking the car's lock. Jake began fidgeting as the effort dragged on. Nearly ready to tell his friend to abandon the effort, Jake let out a big breath of air he'd been holding in when his partner finally managed to unlock the door.

"I'll check up here; you do the trunk," Phinn directed, reaching down to pull the trunk release.

After only a few minutes, the scrawny teen crawled out of the vehicle. He'd found nothing worthwhile. Pushing the lock, he closed the door. He wasn't going to help the police do their search.

"Find anything?"

"The fake beard, ballcap, and clothes Cozart wore at the marina. The duffle bags are here too, but they're empty," Jake listed as Phinn walked over.

"They were probably filled with rocks," the brown-haired sleuth speculated. "What's that?"

"A toolbox. I've already checked inside. Plus, those shovels," the dark-blond-haired teen noted. "So we found a few things. Anything in the front?"

"Not really. A flashlight in the glove box. The killer likely took anything significant," Phinn replied.

"What?"

"That's why the keys were missing. The same goes for the room and his phone. Cozart must have had far more material about his scam and the plan. It's the likeliest explanation for how empty his room was," Phinn said. "Now, follow my lead."

"Oh, no. What do you have planned?" Jake groaned, moving to follow his friend as he walked across the parking lot.

"Why, we're going to call 911 as you wanted," Phinn replied, his tone far too innocent for Jake's liking. "Let's go see Mrs. Deason in the office."

"Why don't we call from our phones?" Jake asked, holding up his phone.

"Because we can use it as a distraction. Block me for a few seconds."

"Block? Ah, hell!" Jake groaned seconds before they reached the glass door.

Entering, Phinn took the lead as the motel's co-owner responded to the bell ring. She'd barely left the rear office before Phinn moved toward the front desk and not the side for guests.

"Mrs. Deason, you better go get your husband," Phinn suggested, already entering a space off-limits to non-employees.

"Why? What are you doing? Get out of here," Anita ordered, attempting to shoo the teen away.

"One of your guests won't be checking out the usual way," Phinn said, spinning around the older woman to get behind her.

"What does that mean? Oh!" Mrs. Deason exclaimed, figuring it out after noticing Jake's somber expression. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Phinn denied in an exasperated tone. He lifted the telephone off its receiver. "Now, please get Deke. I need to call the police."

"The police? Oh, my!"

"You better get Mr. Deason," Jake suggested gently. Based on the sharp motion from his partner, Jake moved forward to softly usher her toward the back room while getting behind her. "It would be better to fill him in before your other guests start asking questions."

With a startled cry, Anita rushed toward the poker game while already screaming for her husband. Working quickly, Phinn flipped open the oversized book that served as the hotel registry. Moving his finger down the page, he scanned the names. Without success, he turned to the page where Cozart's name had been signed. Almost immediately, the teen spotted the name. Quickly tracing his finger across the page, he mentally noted the room number.

Slamming the book shut, Phinn quickly jabbed the number listed to get an outside line before punching in three additional numbers. He'd just finished as Anita rushed back out, followed by Herman Starr, the most sober of the poker players.

"What did you brats do now?" the convenience store owner accused.

"Herm!" Rocky Kozak yelled before he appeared.

"Oswald Cozart is dead. He was shot," Phinn announced, handing the phone to Mrs. Deason. "Tell the dispatcher that. You better warn them not to use his name over the radio."

"Where are you going?" Mr. Starr challenged as Deke and Gabby finally appeared.

"We're going to make sure that nobody enters the room until the police arrive," Phinn half-lied.

Jake shot an apologetic look at the old football players before rushing outside after his next-door neighbor. Despite Phinn's lack of athleticism, the teen had almost reached the stairs before Jake caught up. He quickly asked if they were really going to guard the motel room door.

"You are," Phinn said, climbing the steps two at a time. "I'm going down the back stairs and into Room 111."

"Another room? Why?"

"To check for another body."

*******************************************************************************************

"Do you really think they'll haul us down to the station?" Jake asked with his eyes following the departing homicide detective.

The teen sleuths sat on a picnic table in the center section of the U-shaped motel. Behind them in the small alcove, several vending machines and a pair of ice machines stood against the building. Behind one door sat an ancient laundry room, while a gate led to an enclosed row of dumpsters.

Detective Vench had just finished extending the first round of questions before returning to the crime scene and Gohl, the lead homicide detective. Phinn had whistled upon seeing how many cops had swarmed the motel after hearing the deceased's identity.

"Nah," Phinn scoffed. "Vench's only repeating Gohl's threats. Even he knows that The Ghoul is full of shit. We gave our statement and answered quite a lengthy list of follow-up questions."

"But about Reyhall's threat?" Jake questioned, referencing the deputy chief's warning from the other night about what would happen to them if they were caught involved in the treasure hunt again.

"Jake, stop cowering under their threats. You're Justine Magnum's son, for fuck's sake. You know our rights probably better than I do. Your mom would want you to stand up to these pigs!" Phinn reminded.

His last comment caused Officer Updike to look over. Their assigned monitor arched an eyebrow in response to the insult. Phinn threw his arms out as if asking, "What are you going to do?"

"Geez, tone it down a few notches. I'd like to be able to go home, not down to the station," Jake whispered.

"Oh, we can leave anytime we like. As I mentioned, we provided a statement and answered their questions. It's not like they can charge us with anything...well, anything they know of."

"Wait, we don't want to leave?" Jake queried, suddenly aware that Phinn had a motive for staying.

"Nope."

The teens watched as crime scene technicians came and went from Room 217. Jake wondered why they hadn't moved Cozart's body yet. They would've had plenty of time to inspect and photograph the bath and bedroom.

"They won't release it from the scene until the big names show up," Phinn stated. His attention perked up as an attractive brunette walked over. A petite beat cop, the spunky officer wasn't exactly a favorite of his, such as Wishkoski, but he didn't dislike her either. "Ah, you're looking quite striking tonight, Officer Jasso."

"Don't try to butter me up, Farris," Sally Jasso replied, her face flashing an annoyed expression.

"I'd never do such a thing. Besides, Jake's the one who just mentioned how your curves fill out your uniform in such an enchanting manner. What did you say? Sally's sexy as fuck?"

Officer Jasso's expression shifted from annoyance to mild interest as she ran her gaze over the muscular teen. Then, recalling her whereabouts and occupation, the brunette cleared whatever image had filled her mind with a headshake. Now glowering at Phineas, Sally finished her walk over to Officer Updike.

After stammering a denial that he never finished, Jake glared at his best friend. A mouthed, "What the fuck?" was met by a hand pressing down on the air as a gesture to wait. The act Phinn waited for occurred as Jasso and Updike moved further away to hold a private conversation.

"Good. We have a little privacy, too. Time to make a few phone calls, buddy," Phinn revealed.

"Calls to whom? And don't think we're not talking about what you just did," Jake warned.

"You're calling Johanna while I call your sister," Phinn revealed.

"Are you insane?"

"We need information in a hurry, and our local influencer has the reach we need," Phinn explained. "I know it's another favor we'll owe Johanna, but it can't be helped."

"I meant about calling Libby," Jake clarified. "And I'm the one who will end up paying our debt to Johanna. I just know it."

"True. At this rate, you might need to give her your firstborn," Phinn joked. However, Jake blanched rather than laughed. "Look, she already has the pictures of Mindy Moon with each hair color. We just need Johanna to make a post--say that Mindy screwed her over or stole from her--and ask her followers to keep an eye out for Mindy. It's our best hope to find the hotel she's staying at."

"How do we know she's not staying here?" Jake gestured to their surroundings.

"She's not. Trust me. It doesn't fit with her image, and I suspect that image is key to everything to Cozart."

"Not anyone more. He's dead."

"Jake, please. Show some respect for the dead," Phinn instructed. The line sent his partner into a string of complaints about Phinn's actions, so the brainy teen moved away to call Liberty.

"Great. What do you want?' the elder Magnum sibling answered.

"A favor, of course. No, don't start complaining. You'll like this one," Phinn guessed, cutting off the refusal before it began.

"Why are you asking me? Don't you have any flunkies available?" Libby asked over the sound of other people talking.

"Well, Jake's handing that end as we speak. Second, I assume you're out with your friends, right?"

"Yeah, we're eating a late dinner before hitting some bars. Why?" Libby revealed, causing Phinn to nod. He thought it sounded like a restaurant in the background.

"Either use a payphone or call from a friend's phone. Do not call from your phone. I repeat, do not call from your own phone," Phinn insisted.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Who am I calling and why?"

"I'm giving you Donna Dalby's number. She's one of The Factfinders. They're--"

"Those goody-goodies are in town again? Argh! What lie do you want me to tell them?" Libby demanded.

"Not necessarily a lie. I'm merely omitting a few details to our competition so they can unknowingly help us," Phinn explained. "Tell Donna that you know where Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses is located. He's the guy who found the Spanish doubloons from the pirate treasure."

"Wait, somebody actually found pirate gold?"

Phinn sighed. "Libby, you really need to watch or read the news occasionally."

"Whatever. Where am I telling them this guy is located?"

"Upstairs in the carriage house of Regina Tarr's mansion."

"Hold on! Are we fucking that bitch over?" Libby inquired, her voice filled with obvious glee.

"In a way. Tell Donna or Cody--if she puts him on the phone--to watch and follow the man. If they do so, he'll lead them to a murder scene," Phinn explained.

"Whoa! Did you say murder?" Libby repeated, causing gasps from her table. "What the hell are you two involved in now?"

"Don't worry. We're already at the murder scene but surrounded by cops," Phinn revealed.

"Holy shit! If my mom finds out..."

"And you won't be the one who tells her, right?" Phinn challenged. "Now, make sure you use a different phone."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll use Kari's phone." An exclamation from Kari sounded in the background. "She changes her phone number all the time due to weird guys."

"Thanks, Lib."

"You better not get arrested. I don't need Mom suddenly wondering what's going on at home," Libby warned before Phinn hung up.

Phinn had to wait another five minutes until Jake could get Johanna to end the call. As assumed, the call didn't go all that well for the popular athlete. His glare told Phinn enough.

"Excellent work, partner. I knew you could do it," Phinn praised before Jake could start bitching.

"What did Libby say?"

"That we better not get arrested."

"W-Wha...Why did you tell her? What did you tell her? I better not get grounded!"

"Relax. I had your sister tip off The Factfinders to Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses' likely location. She readily agreed once I explained she was to direct them to Tarr Manor," Phinn relayed.

"Why would he...Is he spying on Regina again?" Jake asked, showing concern again for the shady brunette. "Shouldn't we warn her?"

"Oh, he's probably spying, but not on her. Regina's reactions earlier practically confirmed my suspicions. Those spy cameras likely sent a signal to a nearby computer, and based on what you overheard, I suspect it's located on the top floor of their garage, which is where Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses is probably right now. If he's not there, I guess Regina or Jace might notice The Factfinders. Either way, their appearance should spur some action."

As Jake started to ask another question, a new development appeared at the Stop-N-Rest Motor Lodge. Deputy Chief Gerald Reyhall had arrived. Exiting his personal car, the angry second-in-command of the EPD surveyed the scene, his gaze briefly resting on the two teens far in the back before marching up the stairs to Room 217.

"Boy, Reyhall looks pissed," Jake commented.

"Remember to stand firm. Make your mother proud," Phinn encouraged.

The deputy chief stayed inside the crime scene for probably just enough time to study the dead body and issue a few curses. Or that was Phinn's guess as he watched the furious man storm out the door after barely three minutes. Stopping for a moment to grip the railing, Reyhall spun around, barked a name, and started stomping down the walkway.