Killer Honeymoon Part 16

"William Northrop," Savannah said bluntly.

Savannah had decided that if she only had fifteen minutes, there was no time to p.u.s.s.yfoot around. She might as well get down to business.

She noticed that the woman's warm, friendly green eyes went a bit cold at the mention of Northrop's name.

"What about him?" Dr. Glenn asked.

"I understand that you and your organization have, shall we say, differences with him."

"He's determined to destroy this island; we're determined to save it. Yes, I suppose you could say we have differences."

"Would you tell me more about that?" Savannah asked.

The green eyes swept over her, evaluating. "Perhaps. First I'd like to know who you are-besides your name-and why you want to know about this."

Savannah drew a deep breath; then she said, "I'm a private detective from San Carmelita. My new husband and I were here on Santa Tesla, honeymooning, when we saw a woman shot and killed."

"Amelia Northrop."

It wasn't a question, Savannah noticed.

"Yes. Amelia Northrop. So you know it wasn't an accidental drowning."

June Glenn smiled, just a little. "I make it my business to know most of what happens on this island. It's been my home for many years."

"Then you may also know what happened to William Northrop two weeks before that."

"He was also shot."

"That's right. I spoke to him about it less than an hour ago."

The doctor's cell phone on her desk buzzed. She reached down, picked it up, and looked at the caller ID. Then she turned it off.

"Did he tell you that I shot him?" she asked.

Savannah was a bit taken aback by her bluntness, but she welcomed it. If everyone she interviewed was this straightforward, her job would be far easier.

"He didn't accuse you personally. But when asked who his enemies are, who might want to do him harm, he named your organization."

"My organization." Dr. Glenn looked around the shabby office and shook her head. "My organization consists of exactly what you see here, plus two drawers in my desk at home, four volunteers, a beat-up SUV, and a few boxes of equipment in my garage. We're woefully underfunded. We hardly have the resources to oppose someone like Northrop and his multimillion-dollar company. I can't imagine why he would name us as a threat."

Savannah gave her a pointed look of her own. "Bullets don't cost that much."

"I didn't shoot him. When it comes to violence against the person of William Northrop, I'm afraid the height of my ambition is to slap him. And that's only in my most reckless fantasies."

"Why is that?" Savannah asked, knowing the answer but interested in hearing this lady's side of the controversy.

"Because he's a soulless mercenary who would destroy this island for monetary gain. If he has his way, he'll build a monstrous complex on some of the most pristine, beautiful beaches in Southern California."

She glanced up at the picture of the sea lions on the wall. "There are animals and plants here on Santa Tesla that aren't found anywhere else on earth. But Northrop couldn't care less. The islands along this area of the California coast are essential to many species of waterfowl, not to mention the seals and sea lions. But Northrop figures he needs a casino more than they need a place to breed and raise their young. It's unconscionable. And we'll do anything to stop him."

"Anything?"

"Short of killing him? Yes."

"Did you send him death threats?"

"Death threats?" Dr. Glenn looked genuinely shocked. "We most certainly did not."

Savannah thought for a moment. She believed that the gracious woman in front of her was speaking the truth, as she knew it. But how often does a person completely know those around her?

"Among your volunteers," Savannah said, "is there anyone whose outlook might be a bit more, say, militant than yours?"

"Absolutely not."

"Anyone you might have had to dismiss for that sort of thing?"

"No. We carefully screen everyone who wants to join the league. We're determined not to have anyone like that besmirching and undermining our cause with violence."

"Okay. Please think carefully. Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to join your organization, but he or she was refused on those grounds?"

Dr. Glenn thought only a moment before her eyes widened and a horrified look crossed her face. "Oh no!" she said.

"What is it?"

"There was a man last year . . ."

"And?"

"He came to us from another group, an organization in the San Fernando Valley. They did a lot of illegal things to bring attention to their cause. They vandalized and stole property. They threatened researchers at laboratories, and they were suspected of bombing a major research facility in Anaheim."

"What's his name?"

Dr. Glenn hesitated. "I don't want to cause him any problems if he's an innocent person."

Savannah gave her a long, searching look. "Dr. Glenn, if you wouldn't allow this man into your organization, you must have had a pretty good reason."

"Actually, I didn't have a solid reason," she said. "I just had an instinctive distrust of the man. I rely on my hunches. They're usually accurate."

"Mine too. And if you had a sense this man was a problem, that's enough for me to conduct a discreet investigation of him. Don't worry. It won't come back to you or your organization."

Dr. Glenn thought it over for what seemed like forever to Savannah. Finally she said, "Okay. His name is Hank Jordan."

"Does he live here on Santa Tesla?"

"Part-time, I believe. If I remember correctly, he said he works as a handyman at one of the motels on the other side of the island."

"Do you recall which one?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Savannah stood to leave. Once more she looked around the office and its spa.r.s.e furnishings. Something told her that this was one charitable organization that spent every available cent on the work at hand, and not on anything frivolous . . . like a comfortable chair for its president.

She glanced up at the picture of the mother sea lion and its baby, and she decided that she liked Dr. June Glenn. A lot.

"Thank you for the good work you're doing here," she said. "Some friends of mine gave my husband and me a honeymoon stay at the lighthouse. The next time I go up in the light, I'll look down on those beautiful beaches and think of you keeping them that way."

Dr. Glenn stood, too. She smiled and nodded. "And I thank you for the work you're doing. It was terrible what happened to Amelia, and what happened to William, too, for that matter. I hope you catch the person or persons who did it. Threats and violence are no way to get what you want in this world."

Savannah sighed, thinking of all the abusers she had arrested when she'd been a police officer. They were individuals who believed that threats and violence were exactly the way to get what they wanted.

"I wish everyone lived by your code, Dr. Glenn," she said. "There'd be a lot less pain and misery in this sad ol' world of ours."

Chapter 14.

Savannah and Dirk dropped by the "vacation compound," where the rest of the gang was hanging out, expecting to find them all lounging beside the magnificent pool. They couldn't imagine anybody resisting that temptation.

But when they got out of the Jaguar and walked down to the pool area, they found no one at all swimming, sunning, or bubbling in the hot tub.

So they headed up to the house.

When they walked into the kitchen, they saw Tammy and Waycross huddled together at the table. Their heads were nearly touching as they laughed and talked. Both were working away at their computers. Sheets of paper were spread out around them-bits and pieces of information that the two of them had collected, relating to their numerous suspects.

"Hey, just look at those younguns," Savannah whispered to Dirk. "Ain't they sweet?"

"They are," Dirk replied. "An airhead and a carrottop. They're perfect for each other."

"Shhh," Savannah said, poking him with her elbow. "You've gotta stop calling her that. She's smarter than three of you and one of me all rolled up together."

"Three of me and one of you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure, but I think I was just insulted."

"Maybe you could locate two more of you and the three of you could decide."

Tammy spotted them and said, "Hey, you honeymoon lovebirds! What are you doing back here again?"

Dirk walked over to her and tugged on a strand of her hair. "We wanted to find out what you two dug up for us and to give you another shopping list."

" 'Shopping list'?" Waycross asked.

"A list of stuff we want you to find out for us."

Waycross's ruddy face lit up with a big smile. "You betcha. This spyin' on folks and finding out all their dirty laundry's fun! Of course, we do the same thing back home, too, but we don't get paid for it."

Savannah walked up behind him and put her hands on her brother's shoulders. When did this little freckle-faced, curly-headed kid, who had been so dear to her heart, become a man? She could distinctly recall wrestling with him in Granny's backyard . . . and winning, too.

Feeling the rounded hardness of his muscles under her palms, she knew such victories were forever in the past. Now she was "Big Sis" in name only.

Dirk walked to the other side of the table and sat down. Savannah joined him.

"So, what've y'all got for us there?" Savannah asked them, nodding toward the mess of strewn papers.

Waycross reached for some that were closest to him and shoved them across the table to her. "This stuff is about your designer purse knockoff guy."

"Not just purses," Tammy said. "Watches, scarves, wallets, you name it. They were even selling fake perfume that had carcinogens in it! Can you imagine? He's got an army of fly-by-night vendors who unload tons of it in Los Angeles and New York City. It's very big business."

"Yeah, we found Amelia's report on the Internet and watched it," Waycross said.

In a sad tone, Tammy added, "She was a really pretty lady. Had a pa.s.sion for what she did, too. You could see it all over her. She was really enjoying exposing that guy."

"Yeah, well," Dirk said, "it might've gotten her killed. I'm fairly sure that'd come under the category of 'Not Worth It.' "

"You said yesterday that Xenos is out on bail. Do you know where he's staying until his trial?" Savannah asked.

"Of course I do." Tammy reached for another piece of paper and gave it to Savannah. "There's his home address in Malibu."

"Malibu, huh?" Dirk said. "Who'd think fake Chanels and Rolexes would sell well enough to buy a place in Malibu?"

"Some people wanna look like caviar on a bologna budget." Savannah folded the paper and stuck it in her pocket. "They think they're just buying a purse to impress their girlfriends, but a lot of that money's going to organized crime. In Xenos's case, some of it's finding its way to the Middle East and anti-American terrorist groups."

"So much for a cute, little, victimless crime," Dirk said. "Personally, you couldn't give me one of those knockoff girlie purses."

"How about a fake Rolex?" Waycross asked him, a grin on his freckled face.

Dirk hesitated, thinking it over. Then he glanced at Savannah and Tammy, who were giving him a don't-you-dare look. "Nope," he said. "You couldn't give me one of those crummy things. No way. I'd rather be dragged across an anthill. Killer ants! Naked!"

"Eeew." Tammy wrinkled her nose. "There's a visual I could've done without!"

"What sort of record does this Xenos guy have?" Savannah wanted to know.

Waycross gathered up a stack of papers. "Let's just say, if we taped these-here papers together, our good buddy would have hisself a rap sheet a lot longer than your arm."

"a.s.saults galore," Tammy said. "He's been arrested twice for murder, but he never went to trial for those. He's served a total of seven years."

"Lovely," Savannah said. That was just what she wanted, to chase down and question some terrorist-funding thug on her honeymoon. Or any other time, for that matter, she thought.

"Maybe we won't even have to look for him," she said, thinking aloud. "With any luck, it'll be this crazy conservationist."

"Conservationist?" Tammy was all ears.