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 The fake author didn't appear to have been caught lounging around his outdated room by the killer.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.

"Here he comes," Phinn announced, almost sounding giddy to Jake.

Both teens noticed that Detective Gohl had also left Room 217 and was trailing Reyhall's heels. However, focused on the approaching men, the teen sleuths didn't spot another car arriving at the scene.

"Why aren't these two hoodlums in handcuffs?" Reyhall shouted while halfway down one of the rear stairways.

"Oh, shit," Sally Jasso hissed, moving away from her fellow officer.

"No one ordered them to be cuffed, sir," Officer Updike responded as his superior reached the pavement.

"I'm ordering it!"

Gulping at his boss's anger, the patrolman reached for his belt while facing the teens.

"Hell no. You don't have cause to arrest us," Phinn proclaimed.

"Like hell, I don't!" Reyhall roared. "Breaking and entering to start. Then, tampering with a crime scene, not to mention you were ordered to stay clear of Cozart. That adds obstruction."

"Don't even think about it, Updike," Phinn warned the officer, who stopped in uncertainty. Then, looking over the beat cop, the teen responded to the deputy chief's charges. "The door was ajar when we arrived. Our knock opened it. That's when we saw that the room had been tossed. Only out of our concern for Mr. Cozart did we enter. You can ask the Deasons if we came to meet Mr. Cozart. And you ordered us to stay away from the treasure hunt, not him. Plus, I only touched his body to check for any breathing."

"Bullshit, Farris. That man was clearly dead!" Reyhall roared, shoving Updike forward.

Phinn started to argue, but Jake finally jumped into action.

"Are you a licensed forensic pathologist? I don't think so. Nor do I doubt that Dr. Earby will make that conclusion. Cozart couldn't have been dead for long when we arrived. Blood still looked to be trickling out of his mouth. None of it was dried at all," Jake pointed out. "You can not claim with any confidence that he was long dead when we checked his pulse."

"Don't you dare question me, Magnum!" Reyhall warned, turning to gesture at The Ghoul. "Detective Ghoul found signs that Cozart's clothes had been searched. And the Deasons won't back up your timeline. They said you were gone far too long to discover the body and race back down immediately. And... we found the marks you made while picking the lock."

"How dare you insult me?" Phineas roared. "I'm far too professional to ever leave marks when I pick a lock! You know that, Gohl!"

"I bet Gohl also warned you about making any broad accusations, didn't he?" Jake challenged, suddenly sounding like his mother. "The obvious answers are that the killer left those marks--if they were fresh, considering this place--and he or she searched Cozart's clothes."

"Or are you claiming we killed the man?" Phinn challenged. "If so, the Edgewater Police Department's incompetence has reached new highs. Or should I say lows?"

"We not only gave our statements but answered a lengthy round of follow-up questions. And we've patiently waited here in case your detectives wanted to clarify anything else. We were never once detained. If I thought so, I would've contacted my mother. Say the word, and I'll drop the L-word right here and now," Jake challenged. "If not, then back the fuck away from us. We're not or ever been a bunch of kids you can push around, asshole!"

Phinn paused his arguing to look over in awe at his partner.

"Jerry! A word... now!"

Everyone turned to find Chief Norberg walking over on his bad leg as fast as he could. About to rage at the person who interrupted him, Deputy Chief Reyhall's words died on his lips as he saw the rare furious expression on his superior's face. Norberg grabbed his top lieutenant's arm and issued a quiet but firm lecture.

"Uh-oh. Somebody's in trouble," Phinn remarked, causing Jasso, Updike, and Gohl to motion for him to shut up.

While the heated conversation continued, Phineas spotted a familiar face near the motel's office. Recognizing a way out, he loudly interrupted the chief and deputy chief.

"Would you look at that? Kennedy Eaton from the Edgewater Dispatch is here. Boy, I bet she'd love an exclusive interview with us about what happened. You know, I have Alderwoman Annable's number saved on my phone. Maybe I should call her to take part in the interview. What do you say, guys?"

"You little--"

"Shut up, Jerry!" Norberg ordered before turning on the teen sleuths. "Farris, Magnum, get the hell out of here. And this is your final warning."

"Come on, Phinn," Jake commanded, grabbing his friend's arm and yanking him away.

"And don't talk to the press until I say so," Chief Norberg called after them.

"We have a constitutional--"

"Let it go for now," Jake said, cutting his partner off.

Nearly copying his move from the medical examiner's office last week, Jake mostly carried Phinn to his sedan. As fast as he could, Jake started the car, backed out of the spot, and headed to the front entrance. He only slowed down to check why his best friend rolled the window down.

"Sorry, Kennedy. We can't comment right now," Phinn yelled out the window to the local newspaper reporter. "But you better tell Lorne to hold the presses. This is a hot one."

Before the journalist could respond, Jake drove off. When forced to stop at the first red light, he placed his forehead against the steering wheel.

"Fuck! What were you thinking?"

"Me? Damn, you unloaded on Reyhall! Momma Magnum is going to be so proud of you. I know I am!" Phinn praised, slapping his partner's shoulder. "You know, I regretted not recording it, but I'm sure somebody in one of the rooms did."

"What?! I'm so dead," Jake moaned before raising his head. "We're so lucky that the chief arrived. They could've detained us without issuing charges. You know that!"

"No, you're not dead. And we're fine. Reyhall has lost his mind. Gohl hates our guts, but I knew we were good when I saw his face. He looked uneasy and embarrassed by that asshole's tirade."

"Shit. I'll need to talk to Mom. They'll probably call us in for more questioning soon."

"Don't worry. By the time anyone tries to do more to us, we'll have solved the case," Phinn declared. "Oh, turn here."

Jake turned as he muttered over how much trouble they might be in.

"Take another right here. Okay, keep going straight." Consumed by his concerns, Jake followed his friend's directions without thinking. "Take a last right here. Alright, pull up under that tree."

"Wait, where are we?" Jake asked, looking around. He started to protest after realizing where Phinn had brought them. "No, no way!"

"I might have left out a part or two about why we waited around," Phinn said, getting out of the car. "It's good that the Rattigans took off when they heard the sirens. I didn't want them following us for this part."

"You're certifiable. That has to be it. My best friend is insane," Jake said, more to himself since Phinn had gotten out. Wanting to give up, he placed his forehead against the steering wheel again.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Look, we could wait in the car, but wouldn't you be more comfortable inside a nice motel room? Well, nice might be too strong a word," Phinn clarified, standing outside the window.

"I can't believe you brought us back here. I can't fucking believe you," Jake groaned into the steering wheel.

"It's not like we're going to walk past the police. When I checked for another body, I opened the window. You can lift me through easily enough. However, we might need to find a garbage can or something for you to stand on to get inside. The windows are somewhat high," Phinn explained.

"Why? Why do I deserve this? Couldn't Dusty have stayed, and you moved away?" Jake asked the car's ceiling.

"The longer we stay here, the stronger the odds are that a patrolling cop car comes down this way. It would be better if we waited inside," Phinn suggested.

With a heavy sigh, Jake opened the driver's side door and exited.

"That's the spirit," Phinn cheered before pointing toward the rear wall of the Stop-N-Rest Motor Lodge. "Our window is over there."

"Can you at least tell me what we're doing for once?"

"We're waiting in Room 111 for an introduction and some answers," Phinn revealed brightly while also testing his flashlight. "Hopefully, we won't have to wait too long."

"For whom?"

"For Carter Hawley," Phinn announced, slipping down the alley.