This is episode nineteen in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle.
Planning The Next Step
Patterson finished a shower and sat in the salon with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Trace brought him a cup of coffee and a muffin.
“Thanks,” Patterson said. “I don’t deserve this.” He started eating and sipping.
“If you’re innocent, you do.”
“I mean, the way I acted when I was a passenger.”
“We all have bad days,” Trace said.
“Those weren’t bad days,” Patterson said.
“While you were showering, I checked with a source. He confirms your story.”
“What source is that?”
“Let’s just say I know a guy who knows a guy.”
“Fair enough,” Patterson said with his mouth full.
“When the crew returns, I will have to take the situation up with them. I don’t foresee any opposition. Paul and Tom are the recipients of Sage’s, Makani’s, and my help. We did receive a substantial reward, though.”
“My parents are wealthy,” Patterson said.
“I’m not trying to shake you down,” Trace said. “There was considerable expense involved in their rescue. Money was not a problem or the issue, but without it, we could not have rescued them.”
“What were they rescued from?”
“An island run by a cult. We had everything but tanks and flamethrowers. That’s for another time. Right now, we have to figure out a way to prove you didn’t kill Erin—you didn’t kill him, right?”
“No, or is that yes?” Patterson was confused. “Anyway, I didn’t kill him. He was my friend.”
“If you have any ideas, now would be a good time to spill the beans,” Trace said.
“For three days, all I’ve thought about is getting a hold of one of those guys and beating the truth out of ‘em,” Patterson said.
“Let’s lower our sights just a bit,” Trace motioned downward with his hands. “Make that our last alternative.”
“The key to this whole thing may be Paul,” Trace said.
“The runt deckhand,” Patterson said and quickly offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but how can he help?”
“Not him in particular,” Trace said. “Paul’s father is Waldo Franks. He is or was a casino owner. He had his fingers in nearly everything. He knows where bodies are buried and money is stashed. Don’t take this to mean that Paul is connected to him in that way. Franks doesn’t want his son to turn out the way he has. And so far so good. Franks and I have a special relationship, not criminal.”
“You got his son out of a jam?” Patterson said. “He paid you, but owes you more than money?”
“He’s learned to respect me, and I learned to respect him,” Trace said. “I’m going to see if he can help us.”
“Where is he?” Patterson asked.
“In prison, back in Fiji,” Trace said.
“How is that going to help us?” Patterson asked.
“Frank’s imprisonment is only an inconvenience and a sham,” Trace said. “He got out of prison one night and visited me with an armed escort.”
“I can’t believe you would do this for me,” Patterson said.
“I have found the only thing that’s black and white is black and white,” Trace said. “However, there is black and white.”
Patterson twisted his face.
“That’s called cowboy logic,” Trace said. “It’s not designed to make sense, just make do. And don’t bother trying to figure that one out, either.”
“I think I know what you're getting at,” Patterson said.
“Good,” Trace said, “explain it to me someday when we have the time.”
Trace and Patterson turned. The heard footsteps come down the companionway. It was Sage carrying a sack.
He tossed the sack on the table. “Here’s some clothes. If they don’t fit, make ‘em fit.”
“Cowboy logic?” Trace said to Patterson.
“Get dressed,” Sage said. “Coming in here seeing you in nothin’ but a towel, talking to Trace, makes me feel sort of weird.”
“I’ll get dressed before it gets weird,” Patterson said.
“Right,” Sage said, “and when ya get up, make sure the towel covers yer backside. We eat here.”
Patterson stood and held the towel tight. He grabbed the sack and went to his cabin.
“We got some planning to do,” Trace said to Sage.
Sage sat at the table. “We should let the crew know what’s going on.”
“Yeah, we should,” Trace said, “but we promised them some time off. And I think we should have some sort of a plan before they return.”
Trace looked up at the clock on the wall. “Assuming they return after supper, that gives us a couple of hours or so.”
“What do we know so far?” Sage asked.
“I made a call and a guy made a couple other calls,” Trace said, “Patterson’s story holds up. He’s being framed.”
“What the heck did he think?” Sage said, “he was going to move drugs for a month or two and walk away? Once you’re in, you’re in. There’s only two ways out, in shackles or in a coffin.”
“I’m going to catch a flight as soon as I can to Suva,” Trace said.
“Suva?” Sage said.
“I’m going to visit Waldo Franks,” Trace said. “I have something in mind, and he might be the guy who can help me with it.”
“Two questions,” Sage asked, “will he help and can you trust him?”
“There’s something about Franks,” Sage said. “When I first met him, he had a cold, uncaring look about him. The times I’ve talked to him since, I don’t know, there’s a change. He seems human now.”
“Prison?” Sage questioned.
“No,” Trace said. “I think it’s his son. Mind you, a good, healthy dose of skepticism is warranted, but if we are to help Patterson out of this jam, we could use the help of a man like Franks.”
“Are you going to pitch an idea to Franks?” Sage asked.
“Yeah,” Trace said.
“It is?” Sage asked.
“Later,” Trace said. “I want to give it some more thought.”
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