Too Easy (A Flap Tucker Mystery) by Phillip DePoy

Author:Phillip DePoy [DePoy, Phillip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2015-11-18T23:00:00+00:00

23 – The Golden Code

The ride back to Tybee in the police boat was swell. It was just me, the driver, and the kid. Nobody wanted to talk, so I had time to reflect. The sun was getting fresh with the western horizon — the sky was blushing red and pink. I was worried about all manner of things, but the sunset was working on me. I was thinking how a long, slow, summer sunset was just the ticket. I was watching the water. I was thinking about my childhood — something I never do. Why was the idea of that scratching at the back of my neck?

We docked just as the last of the light was gone. I never got from anybody what island we’d been on. The kid looked at me like I was a wicked messenger — the personification of bad news.

“You ain’t gonna need the cuffs, Mr. Tucker, huh?”

I smiled. “What am I going to need cuffs for?”

He was relieved. We got to a police car; he slammed me into the front seat, a friendly touch. We drove without talking any more, straight to the motel. I waited for him to get out and open my door, like we were dating in high school.

Up the stairs I stopped at the door.

He sighed. “You ain’t got the key?”

I smiled again. “Just don’t want to surprise Ms. Oglethorpe. She may be indisposed.”

He nodded, quick. “Right, right.”

I tapped on the door. No answer. I tried again. Nothing. I reached into my pocket and hauled out the key. I popped the lock, cracked the door, peeped in.

“Dally?”

Still no answer. One of the lamps was on, and underneath it was a notepad with some writing on it. I stepped in and headed for it before the kid could get a look.

It was a note from Dally:

Gone Over Loading Dock. Everything’s Negotiable. Come. Urgent: Remember Tell Aunt Ida Now.

D.O.

P.S. After all that, we need to talk about the other stuff,

Or maybe by then you’ll know.

I had to laugh out loud. The kid snatched the note and read it himself. He didn’t see the humor.

“What’s funny?”

I took the note back from him. “I’m just glad she’s okay; back to work and all.”

But the truth was: Using a code as ridiculous as the first letter in every word of the message, and capitalized at that, to tell me what she thought I ought to do — that was pretty funny indeed. Even the kid could have figured it out. But if he had, Golden Curtain wouldn’t have meant anything to him anyway. The whole deal was her corny little joke. Dally loved the spy talk. Not the James Bond, more the John le Carré. Spy talk is largely for people who’d like to think their lives are more interesting than they actually are. In Dally’s case, however, it was always a comedy routine: talking in pig Latin like it was a secret language; leaving notes like this one. Once she just about slayed me

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