Chapter 21
Three days later, Laura and Remington set out just before nine for the two-hour ride to Imperial Beach. They drove through the city until they reached Interstate 5. The day was warm. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky as they followed the coastline. At Laura's suggestion, they had taken the Rabbit, and with the roof down, the warm wind whipped Laura's hair about. She toyed with the strands that had found their way out of the band she used to hold it back.
Knowing Laura was anxious about the meeting, Remington decided it would be best if she drove. He knew it would keep her distracted, if only for the moment. "Laura, you are more familiar with these roads, and I think I'd like to enjoy the scenery, the smell of the salt air as we skirt the open road on the coast," he appealed to her.
Remington knew when she only picked at her breakfast that morning. She was much more nervous than she tried to portray. As they drove, he adjusted his sunglasses and tugged on his ear. He shifted in his seat several times before he finally pulled a toothpick out of his jacket pocket. He tucked the thin strip of wood into the corner of his mouth to pacify his own tension.
"I had Mildred look into some of those names we found in your father's journals," Remington began as they neared the next leg of their drive.
"Really?" Laura simply replied. "Did she find anything?"
Remington flipped the toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his tongue and stated, "She did, but I don't think you're going to like what she found."
"Why? Because it has something to do with the mob?" Laura tossed back.
"How did you-" Remington sputtered.
"I did my own research, too. I didn't want to be going into this completely blind, so I thought if I could figure out a little bit of the who, he could fill in the whys," Laura explained.
Remington pursed his lips together and nodded, "All right then. Let's play the game, Laura. I'll tell you what I know, thanks to Mildred and you fill in any blanks." Laura glanced over at him with a twinkle in her eye for the first time that day, giving him a glimmer of hope she was handling the entire process better than he hoped.
"Fire away, Mr. Steele," she teased.
"All right then, J-Dip, AKA Joe dip, real name, Joseph Dippolito," Remington began.
Laura smiled, "The Italian mob boss who was convicted in 1969 of perjury. Apparently, he lied multiple times during a liquor license inquiry. He was arrested and convicted, and while he was in prison, he was recognized as the Los Angeles Italian Mob underboss."
Remington nodded his approval, "Very good, Laura. Now, how about J-Drag?"
Laura flashed him another dimpled smile before she checked her rearview mirror and crossed over to the next lane, "Jack Dragna. He ran extortion rings and a couple of illegal liquor distillation operations in the 1950s."
"Did you know he was also considered the Capone of Los Angeles and was boss of the LA crime family for almost twenty-five years?" Remington challenged.
"I guess Mildred's research was a little more thorough than mine," Laura admitted.
Remington flicked the toothpick into the wind before he ran his fingers along his chin, "What I really want to know is what does your father have to do with all of this? I mean, there are a dozen or so more names, just like this on his list."
Laura exhaled through her teeth as she shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, but I'm sure my father will have the answers. Otherwise, why would he go through all of this? I don't think this has been a fourteen-year goose chase."
"No, I think you're right about that. Whatever your father documented in these journals must have some pretty great importance for him to disappear like that," Remington agreed.
"So, today is all about getting those answers, nothing more," Laura declared.
Remington reached over and took Laura's hand in his, "No, Laura, today is about so much more than that. You already know he still loves you simply by the fact he broke whatever silence he's been in all these years just to try to warn you off. He still cares, and that means a lot."
Laura squeezed his hand back before adding, "Or he's still protecting himself. I'm not jumping to any conclusions until I hear what he has to say."
They rode in silence for the remainder of the journey to Imperial Beach. As they drove through the quiet city, Remington couldn't help notice the state the businesses were in. Many restaurants were closed, their exteriors looking dilapidated. He saw several signs warning beach-goers of toxic sewage from Tijuana. As they neared the parking area for the private docks, he couldn't help comment, "I can understand why this is the only way on or off that island. It's secluded, doesn't appear to have very many visitors. Easy to monitor who belongs and who doesn't, I would guess."
"Not the place you'd think the FBI would be hiding someone, is it?" Laura stated. She parked between several other cars in an effort for the Rabbit to blend in. Together, they snapped the roof back in place, and Laura collected the box of ledgers from the trunk. "Ready, Mr. Steele?" she asked with a lift of her chin.
"Ready when you are, Mrs. Steele," he replied. Together they followed the boardwalk to the end where they spotted the red-painted dock, and a lone, fiberglass boat bobbed gently. The pair approached cautiously, and when a man appeared from the cabin, Remington called out, "That's a nice Starcraft you've got there?"
"Maybe," the man replied. He stood on the deck, folded his arms across his chest, and questioned, "Can I help you folks?"
Laura glanced at Remington before her eyes drifted down to the box in her arms. Raising her chin, she stated, "We're here about a circus poster."
"Names?" the man demanded.
"I'm Laura Steele... Laura Holt Steele. And this is Remington Steele," Laura stated firmly.
The man shook his head once before he called down into the open cuddy cabin, "They're here." A second man appeared, only he was sporting a badge on his belt, and in his hand, he held a nine-millimeter Glock. "Mr. and Mrs. Steele, it's a pleasure, but you do understand we need to search you before we get underway," the second man stated.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Remington declared. "Would you like to see some identification, in the event we aren't who we say we are?"
"No need. We know who you are," the first man informed them. "I am Agent Murphy. This is Special Agent Molloy."
Special Agent Molloy opened the gangway and stepped onto the red-painted dock. Remington held his hands high to allow the agent to search him before he stepped to Laura. She placed the box on the ground and held her hands high as well. He glanced into the box, lifted the corner of several notebooks. When he was satisfied with his cursory examination, he stated, "Thanks for the cooperation. Now, let's get aboard and shove off. It's about an hour's ride to the island, so I hope you don't get seasick."
"Thanks, mate," Remington replied before offering his hand to Laura to climb onto the vessel.
"I'll tuck that box into the cabin, so it doesn't get wet," Agent Murphy held his hands out. Laura tentatively handed the box over after he reassured her, "Don't worry, Mrs. Steele. I'll put it where you can see it at all times. There are twenty years of investigation in that box, and I'm not about to risk my career or your father's life for it now."
Special Agent Molloy began to untie the lines anchoring the vessel to the dock. "Before we shove off, life jackets are under the seats. The head is down below. There are some waters in the galley with some crackers if you're in need," he rattled off.
Laura and Remington settled themselves topside as the inboard engines roared to life. Soon, they were underway, skimming across the surface of the water as they raced toward the island and Laura's father. An hour later, Laura's stomach tightened when they approached the rocky shore of the island. She couldn't help be mesmerized by the tall, white lighthouse standing guard and the sweep of land behind it. Unconsciously, she reached out for Remington's hand only to be reassured silently as he squeezed it in return.