Unknown Caller

The plane was circling above the airport and the pilot was assuring us that we would be landing within minutes. His reassurances were not making me feel any better, but he sounded in control. “We have been cleared to approach, our landing is imminent.” I grabbed my purse that I had placed in the seat beside me and found my cell phone. I wanted to be ready when we landed to verify my rental car so that I wouldn’t have to wait in line.

The rough landing did little to break my mood, I had been looking forward to this trip for months. My college roommate had phoned from Jersey and invited me to join her for a vacation in Hawaii. She had a condo at a resort that was right on the beach and had mentioned a particularly interesting pool boy who doubled as a bartender. There was no way I was saying “no.”

Dragging my only suitcase through the airport, I regretted not packing more than a few sundresses and bikinis. The wind blowing through the open windows of the breezeway from the terminal to the parking deck carried the scent of the ocean and the spray from the passing rainstorm. I was wishing I could wrap up in the purple cape that I left on the hook in my apartment. But, I rushed ahead, determined to be the first at the Hertz counter.

My plan worked and soon I was ushered to the cherry-red convertible that I had specifically ordered for the occasion. As the attendant tossed me the keys, he laughed, warning me about the attention the car might bring me. Blushing, I was actually excited about the prospect. It was high time to break out of the predictability of my third-grade-teacher-life.

Pulling up to the entrance of the resort, I could actually see the ocean from the avenue. The straw-covered umbrellas swayed to the melody of the waves and called me to join them. Leaving my suitcase in the trunk, I practically skipped to the first chase in the line of many and plopped down to take it all in. As I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes, I felt as if someone had walked up close. I squinted in the direction from which I felt the movement, and my gaze was met with the dazzling smile of a blond, lean, young man with a coconut in his hand. Holding the drink out to me, he welcomed me to the island. His nametag read “Wes.” “If there is anything else I can get you, anything at all, please let me know.” Oh yeah, this trip was a good idea.

I finished the drink and decided I better go and find Mallery. Swiping my case from the car, I double-checked the condo number on her latest text. Wha? The penthouse? Seriously? Could things get any better? The elevator whirled to the ground level and sucked me in. My stomach lurched as the elevator sped to the 13th floor. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, Mallery was there to wrap me in an enormous hug. It had been years since we had been together, and I knew we were in for a terrific time.

After catching up on the past few years, we decided to head downtown for dinner. Mallery had already checked out the Thai Tiki Bar on the south side of the island and she said that the Pad Thai was to die for. As I pulled into the valet parking lane, I dropped my phone. It slipped down between my seat and the gear shift. I grabbed for it, and felt something odd. Pinching it between my fingers, I was able to pull it up. It wasn’t my phone, it was a small, leather-bound black book. It felt worn and well-used. At first glance, all I noticed were the gold initials, W.W. S. on the bottom right corner. As I slipped it into my purse and reached for my phone under the seat, the valet opened my door and welcomed us to the Thai Tiki Bar. Mallery got out of the passenger seat, laughing with the valet like she had known him for years.

Seated at the bar, we ordered shots and toasted to the trip of a lifetime. The shot burned its way down my throat and the sweet cinnamon taste of Fireball coaxed me toward the relaxation that I craved. About that time, my phone rang the familiar ring of an unknown caller. As usual, I ignored it and continued to listen to Mallery reminisce about our college days. Within minutes, the same ring interrupted our conversation and I took the opportunity to check the number. I had a feeling I should pick it up. It was Hertz.

“Is this Emma Ingles?” the voice on the other end of the line asked. “The one and only,” I answered, curious why they would be calling. “Well, we have an issue with the car you rented and we need to get your address so we can come and check it out.” This seemed pretty awkward, and I wasn’t sure what to think. Was this legit? Did they really have an issue, or was this some kind of excuse to find my location? My mind raced. “I’ll call you back,” I said, and was just ready to disconnect the call when I heard the voice shout, “Please, we have a Mr. Stanton on the other line, and he is about ready to blow.” Who? What is this all about? Things were getting stranger by the minute. “Apparently he left something in the car you rented and it is pretty important to him. In fact, it is so important, he is willing to give a reward to anyone who finds it.” “What has he lost?” I asked. “He said that it is a personal item, that’s all we know. He’d wanted to come and get it himself, but he is already aboard his flight back to the states.” “Can’t you just wait until I return the car?” I asked. “Besides, I’m on a vacation, and I’d rather not be interrupted.” “Please, Ms. Ingles, we are just caught in the middle here.”

I gave him the address of the resort, and he said that he would meet me in an hour. I dropped my phone on the bar and Mallery wanted to be filled in on all the details. We decided to finish our meal with a piece of pie and headed back to the condo. We were just about to push the button on the elevator when Mallery grabbed my arm and said, “Hey! There’s the Hertz guy.” We walked to the curb and handed him the key. He grabbed it and said, “I’ll be right back.” We watched him open all the doors and the trunk. He headed back to meet us and just shook his head… “Nothing, absolutely nothing.” So that was that, and pretty painless. I opened my purse to put the keys away and my eyes landed on the little black book I had found between the seat and the console of the car. I had completely forgotten about it. I pulled it out and started to flip it open.

My eyes fell on the gold initials on the front cover, W. W. S. S… Stanton, that was the name the guy had used. W. W. Stanton. I guess I could mail it to him, I’d just need to find his address. I decided to google him just on the off-chance I’d land on a positive ID. Telling Mallery what I was thinking, it just seemed like the right thing to do. She snatched it out of my hands and opened it. “What the heck” she quipped, this is so weird.” I strained to see what she was talking about. The writing was a mix of numbers and letters but made no sense. This mystery was starting to take more energy than I wanted to give. But I couldn’t stop looking through the little book. Something drew me in. What do these lines of immaculate print mean? I decided to start by searching for W.W. Stanton.

When I woke up the next morning, that was the first thing I did. Here I was in Hawaii, and I should’ve been heading to the beach. I comforted myself by deciding to limit my search to half an hour, and then head to the surf and waves. I quickly googled W.W. Stanton and the first hit was pretty astounding. W.W. Stanton... Winston W. Stanton of Las Angeles, CA. One of the highest-ranked traders on the West Coast. At least now I had his business address and phone number. Wanting to put this craziness behind me, I grabbed my phone and called the number. The receptionist answered on the first ring. I told her who I was and why I was calling. She said, “Please, hold on, Mr. Stanton has been out of his mind with worry.” Before I knew it, I was talking to Winston W. Stanton.

“Listen young lady, that little black book is worth a fortune to me. It holds the codes for some of my most secure funds. I would like to send my company jet to meet you when you arrive back from Hawaii and collect it from you. I’d rather it not change hands. I’ll make it worth your while.” We agreed on the meeting and I decided to just put it away and head to the beach.

Mallery was already sprawled out on a chase and sipping on a coconut drink. “Hey, Wes will bring you one too, I’ll just wave him over.” The pool boy/bartender that Mallery had told me about ended up being this handsome Wes. After bringing me a drink, he sat down in the sand and started a conversation. Before long we were laughing, and getting to know one another. As he got up to get someone else a drink, he paused, looked back at me, and said, “Want to grab dinner after my shift?” Being a bit speechless, and caught off guard, I simply nodded. “Pick you up at 7,” he said with his magnetic smile.

After showering and putting on one of the sundresses I had brought, I wondered if I had made a mistake agreeing to have dinner with this tall handsome stranger. But I’d agreed, and besides, it was just dinner. He was right on time, and in that baby-blue polo, looked like a dreamboat. We arrived at the dock and he invited me aboard a beautiful sailboat. He had already prepared a meal that was spread on the deck table. Before the second glass of wine, we were already telling each other about our lives and families. I started telling him about the strange little book and how I would be delivering it to its owner. “Who knew that “W.W.S.” would lead me to the guy who really needed it back.” “What,” he said, “W.W.S. … that wouldn’t be Winston Wesley Stanton, would it?” “Yes, oh my gosh, how did you know that?” I stammered. “Well, he is my father.”

After hours of hearing the long and scandalous story, the criminal activity of Wes’s father, and their long-term estrangement, I was at a loss. What should I do now? Wes encouraged me to call the Las Angeles Police Department and just let them know what was in my possession. He felt that this little book might be something that could open doors of fathomless unsolved crimes dating back years and years.

After sleeping on it, I decided I’d make the call. The detective was more than willing to hear the story of the little black book. She asked if she could leave LA within hours and fly to Hawaii to meet me and secure the book. Then she dropped the bomb that I was definitely not expecting. There was a $20,000 reward being offered for information leading to the arrest and conviction of W.W. Stanton, whose trading company is believed to be a cover for a crime syndicate that would rival any cabal from Mexico. This trip just couldn’t get any crazier, but now I just might have some unexpected cash. Who knew that the unexpected ring from an unknown caller would lead to this. And as for Wes, our story was just getting started.