Chapter 3

I opened the door to the large Philadelphia apartment to the distinct ring of my cell phone. I extracted my cell from under the middle, olive drab, sofa cushion and flipped it open, “Prescott.”

“Is this Detective Prescott?” Came a harsh deluge.

“That’s ex-detective Prescott.” At least according to the three documents I had to sign, initial, and lick.

The voice softened a bit. “Right. This is Charles Mangrove. I got your number from Dwight Stully.”

Dwight Stully had been my chief at the Seattle Police Department and was still my main contact with the world of law enforcement. The name Mangrove sounded familiar and I hoped I was talking to the long-lost, twice-removed, third-cousin, of the Mangrove I suspected. “Any relation to the Charles Mangrove who happens to be Deputy Director of the FBI?”

“One in the same. One in the same.”

Oh, boy.

Charles continued, “Listen, I’m calling in regards to these killings up in Maine. Are you familiar with them?”

I only knew of two killings, but from my experience, them, was an overtone for three or more. If I were smart, I would have hung up the phone. But I wasn’t smart. Cunning, yes. Deft, sure. Competent, probably. But smart, well, the jury was still out on that one. I said, “Sure, the two gals who got hacked to shit. What’s this have to do with the FBI?”

“You mean three gals. This morning they found a third. She was killed on an island off the coast of Maine called Campobello. Campobello is Canadian territory.”

“So why isn’t the Royal Caribbean Mariachi Band taking over?”

“You mean the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?”

I guess Charles took my silence as some sort of nod and persevered, “Actually, it’s Interpol’s jurisdiction.”

I was confused, but I was used to being confused when working with the FBI. “You skipped the part about how it landed in the hands of the Far Below-average Intelligence Agency.”

He laughed. “Dwight told me you were a smartass.”

Cunningass, get it straight. “Yeah, well it keeps people on their toes, and it keeps me from killing myself. Send old Dwight my regards next time you see him.”