Gone Grandpa: Old School Mystery, #3

By Andrea C. Neil

For fans of Carl Hiaasen and Harper Lin's Granny series - a fun and witty caper featuring diamonds, deceit … and double-crossing.  

 

Retired super-spy Delphine Lougheed is nothing if not gracious, especially when family comes to town. So when Marge Flanders—the mother of her son-in-law and possible former jewel thief—announces she and her new boyfriend Willard are visiting Southern California for a trip to Disneyland, Delphine offers to pick them up from the airport.

 

But Willard disappears without a trace right after deplaning, and Marge's vacation turns from fun to frantic quicker than you can say "giant diamond." Delphine would rather skip it all and go ballroom dancing, but now she must use the skills she honed during decades of espionage to help track Willard down. She enlists the help of friend and fellow former super-spy Kenji Yamamoto, and the three of them set off for the not-so-seedy underbelly of Orange County.

 

In the process of tracking down Willard, the trio discovers the love of Marge's life may not be who she thought he was. Worse, if they can't locate him, she'll end up having to pay—literally—for his transgressions. On the lookout for senior swimsuit influencers, inept bookies, and alimony-seeking biker ex-wives, Delphine, Kenji, and Marge search for their missing person. But they just might uncover far more: the realization that it's never too late to find adventure … and lifelong friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 1631 Press, LLC
• Release date: May 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798988808435

Book preview

For Eleanor

Chapter 1

Delphine inched her Mercedes E350 forward on the 105 West, her resolve to remain optimistic about the day’s mission fading as the dashboard clock ticked off each passing minute. With only three miles remaining until she reached her destination, the fact that it would take over a quarter of an hour to get that far was downright demoralizing. The snarl of cars in front and behind her felt like a hindrance, an unnecessary layer of complexity. She wondered if it was an omen of some sort and let out a long breath as she tried to relax her hands, which had been gripping the steering wheel with undue effort.

Are you okay? Kenji asked. You have been doing your yogic breathing again.

I don’t remember traffic ever being this bad, said Delphine. She looked at her best friend sitting in the passenger seat. He had leaned it all the way back, as if surfing a gentle wave instead of being stuck in a mass of automobiles. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. His white hair had gotten wavier recently; he must have been going longer between barber visits. The more relaxed look suited him.

This is the new Los Angeles normal, he said.

Why doesn’t it bother you?

Kenji let his head roll to the left until it seemed like he might be looking at her, but she couldn’t be sure. Japanese Zen breathing.

You are no more Zen than I am Amish, said Delphine. She exhaled loudly and let the car creep up a few feet.

It’s just airport traffic. It will be fine once we reach the terminals, said Kenji.

Delphine hoped that was true, but in her experience, an even worse bottleneck usually awaited visitors once they got off the freeway and turned into the entrance for LAX. It’s just that I’ve been doing so much driving lately. All that traipsing around town for that cheese nonsense.

I know. You would rather be at home with a good book, or at the dance studio.

Delphine said, Exactly.

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

She glared at his sunglasses. I’m pretty sure no Zen master ever said that.

Kenji rolled his head away from her to face forward again. A faint electronic hum filled the cabin as he angled the seat to sit upright. Tell me again why I am here, he said.

Because I didn’t want to have to do this alone, said Delphine. Marge Flanders is my granddaughter Griffin’s other grandmother. She seems to be under the impression we’re friends, and a few weeks ago she contacted me to let me know she and her new boyfriend were coming to LA to go to Disneyland. She said she wanted to see me, and I was too polite to say no.

Well, you must like her, otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to drive her all over Southern California, said Kenji.

She’s family, said Delphine. And I’m not driving her all over the place. I told her I’d give them a ride from the airport to Anaheim. To wherever they’re staying down there.

But I still don’t understand why I’m here. Something must be wrong with her, if you need my help.

Delphine hesitated. It was not in her nature to offer undue criticism, especially when it came to relatives, albeit distant ones. And there wasn’t anything wrong with Marge, per se; she could be great fun in small doses. Perhaps a little boisterous, never seeming to run out of energy, you might say. Delphine didn’t feel her age and still got around quite well, thank you very much. She still went ballroom dancing a few nights a week and could kill a man at least seven different ways using only her bare hands and a few office supplies. But these days, she had less tolerance for spending too much time with overly energetic people. Her granddaughter Zooey didn’t count.

Marge could be … a lot. And then there was the whole Florida debacle, and how Delphine had to travel to Miami to get Marge out of hot water with the police after she took up with a gang of senior jewel thieves. How to explain this to her best friend? Most of it wasn’t her story to tell, but the whole escapade still colored Delphine’s opinion of Marge.

Kenji pulled off his glasses and turned in his seat. Worry creased his eyes. What is wrong with this person?

I need you to be a buffer for the drive down there.

Ah, said Kenji. He put his glasses back on and faced the back bumper of the Range Rover in front of them. She is not your cup of tea.

Maybe she’ll grow on me, said Delphine, but she doubted it.

Ten minutes later, they’d turned off Sepulveda and onto World Way, and were inching their way toward the first terminal. Cars, buses, and vans jostled for positions along the sidewalk, while traffic police blew whistles and used such big gestures to direct everyone, they looked almost like dancers. The scene was beyond chaotic.

According to the arrangements she and Marge had made earlier, Delphine needed to pick them up at Terminal 3, which was maybe another twenty minutes out, she guessed. Her phone rang and Marge’s name popped up on the dashboard screen. She answered by pressing a button on her steering wheel.

We’re almost there, she said.

Delphine, he’s gone! shouted Marge. He just disappeared! I—he—oh my!

Slow down, Marge. What do you mean he’s gone? Who is gone?

Willard! We got to the baggage claim area, and he needed to use the facilities. You know how men are with their prostate and whatnot…

Delphine looked at Kenji, who shrugged, remaining noncommittal. She rolled her eyes at him.

Then what happened? asked Delphine.

We were supposed to meet at the baggage carousel, but he never showed up! The cadence of Marge’s voice sped up, making her sound frantic.

Maybe he had some other business to attend to in the restroom, suggested Kenji.

What? said Marge. Who’s that talking? What kind of business?

Is she for real? Kenji whispered. Delphine motioned for him to be quiet.

Did you go into the bathroom to check if he’s there? she asked Marge.

Marge paused before answering. Me? Go into the men’s room?

Yes, said Delphine.

The car crept along the side of Terminal 1 as they waited for Marge to check the men’s bathroom for signs of her boyfriend. Much jostling of the phone could be heard, along with a few not-so-polite male voices telling her to get the heck out, and at least one voice that sounded suggestive of something untoward. At one point Marge’s hand covered the phone, there was more talking, and then finally she came back on the line.

He wasn’t in there, she said. I did get an invitation to dinner though. Oh Delphine, this is terrible!

Wait for us outside, we’ll be right there, said Delphine, and hung up.

Now traffic moved even slower, as travelers with huge suitcases tried to jaywalk, weaving between the cars. At least three car rental buses tried to cut them off. Several pedestrians strolling along the sidewalk made faster progress than they did.

Do you sometimes feel like we’ll never make it out of the espionage business? Delphine asked as she gripped the steering wheel again. "And please don’t give me a line from The Godfather right now."

But it is so applicable! said Kenji. Okay, fine. Yes, some days it feels like we will be embroiled in mystery for the rest of our lives.

I wonder if we attract trouble, or are simply unlucky enough to bumble into it.

Yes, said Kenji.

Delphine had gotten used to Kenji’s sage, cryptic answers. After all, they’d been partners for decades at the top-secret shadow agency called the Falls. For years, each of them had been trying to retire, and while they’d made some progress, they did, as the famous movie quote went, keep getting pulled back in. She had recently uncovered a major corruption ring inside the Falls, having to do with cheese smuggling. Grateful for her help, the agency had asked her to come back and even offered her a promotion, but she’d said no. Like Kenji, she wanted out, and to live a nice, quiet life of retirement. But things didn’t seem to be working out that way.

When they finally got past Terminal 2, Kenji leaned forward and scanned the crowds in earnest. He asked, What does she look like?

White hair, probably wearing a jumpsuit of some kind, said Delphine. Her phone rang again. We’re at Terminal 3. Where are you? she asked Marge.

How should I know? said Marge. I’m outside is all I know. Hurry!

The columns are numbered. Which one are you near? Delphine asked.

But there was no answer. Marge had disconnected.

Delphine cut across traffic and drove through the entrance to the short-term parking lot. The lot was under construction, and she ended up parking closer to Terminal 1 than 3. She and Kenji got out of the Mercedes and began the long walk back to the correct arrival zone.

If something has really happened to Willard, you’ll need to keep Marge distracted so I can take a look around.

Why don’t you distract her, and I will check things out?

Because you’re better with people, Delphine pointed out.

True, he said, looking pleased at the compliment. In any case, our access to the area is limited.

She said nothing as they came to a crosswalk and waited for traffic to stop for them.

You don’t believe her, he said.

Delphine hadn’t wanted to say it, but Kenji always could read her like a book. It was one of the reasons they were best friends. Let’s just see what awaits us, shall we? Oh, and she doesn’t know about what we used to do for a living, she added, thankful she’d remembered to remind her former spy partner not to spill the beans.

Don’t mention any top-secret information, got it, said Kenji with clear sarcasm.

A huge charter bus roared by, creating an unpleasant-smelling breeze. Once the vehicle passed, Delphine heard her name being yelled from across the street. Marge.

Hey, she’s cute, said Kenji.

The bottom of Delphine’s stomach dropped to the ground, and it felt like she left it behind as they crossed the street. She hadn’t planned on having to deal with that unwelcomed development.

Chapter 2

Marge stood next to a large rolling suitcase, wringing her hands. Her short, snow-white hair looked mussed, and shot out in different directions, like she’d just woken up. An intentional style, Kenji assumed. Oversized red sunglasses sat atop her head and matched her red jumpsuit, which was emblazoned with bird-of-paradise flowers. Overall, it was a very spiffy look. She was attractive, in a Miami-meets-LA kind of way.

Thank goodness, said Marge. What took you so long? She embraced Delphine and glanced at Kenji, who gave her a little wave.

Delphine carefully extricated herself from the hug. Have you found him?

Of course not! You think I’d be standing here alone and worried to death if he was accounted for?

Did you look for his suitcase? asked Kenji.

Marge looked at Delphine. Who is this guy?

Marge, meet my dear friend and former business partner Kenji Yamamoto. Kenji, this is my granddaughter Griffin’s other grandmother, Marge Flanders.

Nice to meet you, said Kenji, affixing his welcome-to-LA smile to his face.

Whatever, said Marge.

He asked a fair question, said Delphine. Did you watch for his suitcase at the baggage carousel?

Marge opened her mouth but said nothing. She huffed, grabbed the handle of her giant suitcase, and rolled it behind her as she walked back inside the baggage claim area.

Charming, said Kenji.

Delphine scrutinized his face. You’re not being sarcastic, are you.

Nope.

They followed Marge inside and stood with her in front of the carousel, which had by now stopped circling. Several bags remained along the unmoving metal plates of the mechanism, and several more stood nearby in front of an office for the airline.

What does his bag look like? asked Kenji.

Like this one, said Marge, pointing to her suitcase.

Delphine walked all the way around the carousel while Kenji and Marge inspected the bags in front of the office.

Nothing.

Are you sure it made it all the way through to LA? asked Delphine.

We both checked our bags with the same ticket agent in Miami, said Marge. But maybe it got lost. She pulled out her paper ticket. Stapled to it were the claim checks for the two bags.

Kenji pointed to the office door, and they went in. After tapping on her computer for a minute, the agent informed them that from what she could tell, the bag had made it to Los Angeles.

But you can’t say for super certain, said Marge, and the woman agreed that no, she could not say for super certain.

The three of them went back to the baggage carousel.

Marge said, He’s gone, I tell you. She sat down on her suitcase and rubbed her eyes. Something bad has happened.

Kenji felt he could safely say something bad had happened, but whether it was bad for Marge or for Willard, he couldn’t be sure.

Delphine looked around the area. The restrooms are over there, she said, pointing to the MEN and WOMEN signs under the escalators that led back up to the gate area. Maybe he came out of the men’s room, walked over here, and picked up his bag from the carousel. Then he went outside because he didn’t see you.

If that’s the case, where is he now? said Marge. He’s not outside, I checked. He’s not in the bathroom. He’s been kidnapped!

The kidnapper took the luggage along with his target? asked Kenji. He’d seen many kidnappings, and in no instance had the victim ever been allowed to bring their suitcase.

Obviously the airline lost the bag, said Marge. She scowled at him. Honestly, do you think a kidnapper’s gonna wait around for checked luggage?

Sure, sure, said Kenji, figuring the best thing to do would be to placate the woman before she went ballistic in public. In his previous line of work, he tried not to attract too much attention, and old habits died hard. But why are you assuming he was kidnapped?

Marge shot up off the suitcase, and her face took on the reddish color of her jumpsuit. What else could have happened! He wouldn’t say, ‘Oh Marge, let’s go on this fancy vacation together,’ and then ditch me right off the plane.

Delphine looked like she wanted to say something, but kept her mouth closed. Kenji knew what she was thinking though. How do you know that? he asked on behalf of them both.

"Oh, that’s it!" shouted Marge, throwing up her hands.

Kenji is usually very astute, Marge, but today I think he’s a bit distracted, said Delphine, intervening in what Kenji feared was about to escalate into a fistfight between him and Marge.

Delphine scowled at him, and he felt bad. It was true, he did seem to be distracted by the rare, zesty flower that was Marge Flanders. Something about her created an irresistible pull—was it her vibrant, flamboyant style, or her feistiness? Kenji knew there was more to her than met the eye, and he wanted to find out what that entailed.

This is my Willard we’re talking about, said Marge. She walked up to Kenji and pointed a finger at his chest. So whatever else you got going on can wait.

You betcha, he said, feeling properly chastised. The woman had a boyfriend. He’d try to remember that.

Marge’s eyes went wide, and she jumped. How disappointing. Was he really that scary? But then she reached into one of the pockets of her red jumpsuit and pulled out her phone.

A text! she said, peering at the screen. "Oh, it’s Griffy. I called her right after I called you. She’s asking if she should fly out to help us. You know, since she doesn’t have a job or anything." She glared at Delphine.

What is she talking about? Kenji asked.

It’s nothing, said Delphine.

Hardly! said Marge. See, Delphine here got our Griffin fired from her job with the FBI. So the girl’s got some extra free time right now. I think I’ll text her to come on out.

Don’t do that, said Delphine. We’ll discuss Griffin later. Right now, don’t you want to find Willard?

Marge tapped out a quick reply on her phone. I told Griffy to stand by and we’ll let her know if we need her. A reply pinged back, and she looked confused as she read the screen. She says you are good at finding people and that I shouldn’t worry. What’s she talking about?

That can also wait, said Delphine in a tone Kenji knew all too well. He was still intrigued but knew that if Delphine didn’t want you to know something, you would never find it out.

Okay, said Marge. What do we do when someone’s been kidnapped? What’s the official protocol here?

I’m not sure we can assume he’s been kidnapped, said Delphine with reluctance.

We can stand here all day and argue about the semantics of what you want to call it, said Marge. But my Willard’s in trouble, and we need to get a move on. Should we check the bathroom for prints, or have airport security show us the surveillance video?

Delphine said, While I’m impressed that you’ve picked up so many handy tips from watching crime shows, those are not things we’re going to do right now.

Kenji nodded. That was the right call.