Crystal Blue (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 3) by John Cunningham (novels for beginners txt) 📕

named Baldwin from Marina Cay aboard a red Cigarette boat. Have you heard that, Bramble? Or do you give a shit?”

Bramble took a step toward me. The magistrate stepped between us.

“That’s enough of that!” This to Bramble, who looked ready to cold-cock me.

“Marina Cay’s in the BVI, in case you forgot,” I said. “And Stud Mahoney was last seen on Peter Island, also in the BVI—”

“Our investigation,” Bramble said, “shows him leaving on a private boat with his lady friend after they checked in—”

“A red Cigarette, by any chance?”

Bramble’s eyes narrowed as he rubbed his chin between his index finger and thumb.

“And what do you mean, your sources? You got a license to be investigating here in the British Virgin Islands? Or are you connected to one of the gangs in the USVI?”

“Or the FBI?” the magistrate said.

Had Booth interceded on my behalf? The call I made from the airport when the officer confiscated my possessions may have connected after all. Or had Zach Ober reached him?

The magistrate stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“What am I being charged with? Or is this just another case of police brutality—”

“You’re a common criminal, Reilly!” Bramble said.

The magistrate literally shoved him aside.

“There’s no charge, Mr. Reilly. You were detained due to an outstanding bench warrant dating back to when you departed Tortola without appearing in my court for official release.”

“That’s it? You kept me in here overnight, interrupted my… investigation—”

“You’re no law enforcement officer!” Bramble’s face was so red I thought his head might explode. “You’re a phony and a punk!”

“Enough!” the magistrate said.

“I’m walking out of here right now,” I said. “You’ve held me without cause—”

“Not until you pay the fine!” Bramble said. “That bench warrant’s been outstanding for three years!”

Damn. I didn’t have much cash, but…

“My FBI credit card is in my wallet,” I said. “Feel free to charge the fine.”

Bramble’s face turned chalky mocha. The magistrate held both hands up, palms out.

“The court waives the fine, Mr. Reilly, and please accept our apologies for the treatment you’ve received here.”

I held my breath. The moment was so good I almost didn’t want it to end, but I needed to get out of here before I went too far.

Then I remembered why I was here.

“I came to Tortola to meet with Commissioner Duncan Mather—”

“What for?” Bramble said.

“That’s enough, Kenneth!” The magistrate turned to me “Was he expecting you?”

“As a matter of fact, he was. If you can retrieve my personal effects, you’ll see a letter from the United States Federal Aviation Administration providing me with authority to land my plane in USVI waters. There’s another letter, from the Special Agent in Charge of the South East Region and Caribbean Basin for the FBI to Commissioner Mather, respectfully requesting the same consideration be provided by the British Virgin—”

“Absolutely not!”

“Officer Bramble!”

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking from Bramble to the magistrate.

“This request is to assist both the U.S. and Royal Virgin Islands Police Force efforts to locate missing and kidnapped United States citizens,” I said in the lowest voice I could muster.

Piling it deep now, I had to bite my lip to keep a straight face.

“I will speak with Commissioner Mather myself, Mr. Reilly,” the magistrate said. “You can assume your request will be granted—”

“Aboard that piece of junk airplane?”

“Not another word from you, Officer Bramble. Last warning. Mr. Reilly, is there a number where Commissioner Mather can reach you if he has any questions?”

I gave him my number, and just to turn the knife one more time recited Booth’s number too. The magistrate led the three of us out of the cell, Bramble shaking his head but finally silent.

What had been one of the worst, most frustrating nights of my life had turned into one of the most enjoyable mornings in recent history. Not that I had time to gloat. I collected my possessions, got my passport stamped, and allowed the magistrate to make copies of the two letters, which he then scrambled off to present to Commissioner Mather after apologizing yet again.

I tried to bolt for the door, but Bramble blocked my path.

“A lot of people getting hurt in your islands. All the trash getting swept up.”

After the battle we’d just had in the cell, his smile stopped me in my tracks.

“That make you happy?” I said.

He bit his lip as if he was trying to hold something back—then winked at me and sauntered away. Whistling.

What the hell?

THE HEAT HIT ME in the face like a sucker punch. I squinted into the sun and felt like I was in a kiln. Outside, policemen were coming and going, chit-chatting and loitering, none in a hurry. I doubted they felt any urgency to find Stud Mahoney and assumed John Thedford wasn’t on their radar at all.

My cell phone came to life when I thumbed the power button.

Ten missed calls. Crystal had called six times, Ray—

“Mr. Reilly, can I speak with you?”

I recognized Zachary Ober’s voice, but had yet to seen him in person. He was dressed in a uniform, had a gold tooth in the center of his smile, and tight-cropped hair. Tall and lanky, he reminded me of Kobe Bryant. I spotted his ambulance at the end of the lot.

“Did you wait out here all night? And remember, it’s Buck.”

“I called that number you gave me, okay? Agent Booth never answered.”

“Then how—”

“I called Michael Bush, the magistrate who was just here. He’s my girlfriend’s uncle.”

“You got me out?”

“I just let him know you were here and that you were either with the FBI or helping them.” He winked and the gold tooth caught the sunlight.

Wow.

“Thanks, Zach. Can you give me a ride to the airport in that thing so we can talk? I’m way behind schedule.”

“Sorry, Buck, no rides allowed. I could lose my job.” He pursed his lips, crossed his arms. “I know my father ripped you off. He was a thief. I’m sorry. But he wasn’t