Mango Motel
Page 21
“I'll call Madicof and tell him I found Waldo. I’ll tell him to meet me at the Romar and to bring Erin with him so we can end this thing.”
Without waiting to see if Raif had anything to say, I hit redial on my phone. After three rings, Madicof answered. “You find him yet?”
“Yeah, he's here with me. At the Romar motel off of A1A south. Meet me at the office. I'll take you to him. Bring Erin or there’s no deal.”
There was a pause on the line and I could hear Madicof tell someone in the background to bring his car around.
Returning his attention to me he said, “We're on our way. Remember, no tricks, no cops.”
He ended the call.
I turned to Raif. “He's coming. But he warned me about not getting the cops involved. If he sees your car, it could be trouble for Erin.
“So, you stay here in the car where it can’t be seen. I'll go to the office and wait for him. When he arrives, I'll turn my phone on so you can hear everything.
“He won’t come alone. He’ll bring his two goons. I’m hoping he'll have one go into Waldo's room with him and leave the other in the car with Erin. That'll be our best chance to get her. When there's only one guy to deal with.
“But maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe Madicof's meeting with Waldo will go off without a hitch. If it does, maybe he'll give up Erin without a fight.
“But if it goes south and you hear me say ‘Avocado,’ meet me at Waldo's car. We'll grab Erin and disappear.”
Raif nodded. “You sure you don't want the gun?”
“No. Madicof's guys will search me. If they find a gun, they'll take it. You wouldn't get it back. So no gun. I'll try to outsmart them instead.”
Raif shook his head. “Good luck with that.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
I headed back to the Romar. My plan was to stay out of sight near the office until I saw Madicof's car pull up. I'd show myself and make sure Erin was safe. Then I'd tell him where to find Waldo.
A few minutes later, a black SUV with heavily tinted windows pulled up under the awning in front of the Romar office.
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. Almost immediately, the back driver's side window slid down, revealing the face of a man who I presumed to be Madicof, with Erin sitting to his right.
He asked, “You Walker?”
I nodded.
He looked around. “No cops, right?”
I nodded again.
He pointed to the other side of the SUV and said, “Get in.”
I did as I was told. I opened the heavy door and slid in beside Erin. I took her hand and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just peachy.”
She started to say something, but Madicof interrupted. “Where's Waldo?”
I pointed to the row of rooms in front of us. “He's here. I'm not going to tell you which one he’s in until you let Erin go.”
Madicof laughed. “You think I'm a fool? Do you think I'm going to take your word? She's not going anywhere until I talk to Waldo.”
I nodded. “Okay, call him. Ask him if he's staying at the Romar and if he's in his room. Don't tell him you're coming to visit. That might scare him off. Just tell him you'll get together with him tomorrow.”
Madicof looked at me and said, “You better be telling the truth. If you're setting me up, I won't be happy.”
He pulled out his phone, found the number that Waldo had used when he called earlier that day, and hit redial. He put the call on speaker so we could hear what was being said.
Waldo answered, “This is Waldo.”
Madicof nodded at me and said, “Waldo, I'll be in town tomorrow and would like to get together with you. Are you still at the Romar?”
Waldo answered, “I'm here tonight but not sure where I'll be tomorrow. Call me then, we can set something up.”
Before Madicof could ask him which room he was in, Waldo ended the call.
I smiled and said, “I told you he was here. Now let her go.”
He didn't. Instead, he asked, “What's the room number? If Waldo's in it, I'll think about letting the girl go. But not before."
I didn't like his answer. Instead of saying he was going to let her go, he said he was thinking about it. That didn't sound good. Maybe he was planning on keeping her, using her as a way to get the paintings after he got Waldo.
He repeated his question. "What's the room number?"
Without thinking it through, I said, “Sixteen, he's in room sixteen.”
But I wasn't sure. He could have been in seventeen. That's what I should have told him. That he was either in sixteen or seventeen. That way, if he didn't find him in sixteen, he'd know where to look next.
There was a fifty-fifty chance the first room would be the right one. There was also a fifty-fifty chance it wouldn't be, and I wasn't feeling lucky. At least not yet.
Madicof told the thug behind the wheel to park across from sixteen. As the car started moving toward the crowd of revelers still in the parking lot, they quickly dispersed. Most went into nearby guest rooms. A few ran toward the back of the building where Waldo's car was parked. Two headed into room sixteen. That probably meant Waldo was in seventeen. But I wasn't going to tell Madicof. Not yet. I wanted to give him a reason to keep Erin and me around and unhurt.
The SUV slowly cruised the lot, the driver counting off the room numbers until we reached sixteen. There was already a car in the parking space nearest the door, so Mad Dog's driver pulled to the street side and parked.
From the back seat, Madicof told him to stay in the car with us. He had his other goon get out and they both headed for sixteen. When they got to the door, Madicof’s man reached into his jacket and pulled out a black pistol.
Then, instead of knocking, he kicked the door in, going for the element of surprise.
Going in that way, without knocking, was a big mistake. Two men inside the room were counting money, with stacks of bills on the floor. Another was sitting in a chair near the door, sawed-off pump shotgun in his lap. Still another was near the bathroom door at the back wall.
When Madicof's guy kicked in the door, the men inside the room must have thought they were being robbed. So they did what most in their trade would do. Fight back.
From outside in the car, we heard three gunshots. Boom, boom, boom. Probably from the shotgun.
Madicof fell backwards out of the door onto the sidewalk, blood pouring from a nasty chest wound. The man who had gone in with him backed out of the door, still firing his gun.
The driver who had stayed in the car saw his boss on the ground bleeding and went to his aid. When he did, I said, “Avocado, avocado, avocado.”
Erin looked at me like I was crazy. Wondering why I was repeating the word “avocado” over and over. She didn’t know it was my signal to Raif.
Before she could ask about it, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the SUV. Ducking down, we ran to the backside of the lot, next to where Waldo's car was parked. I knew the doors were unlocked; I opened the back one and pushed Erin in. “Stay here until you see Raif.”
I handed her my phone and said, “Tell him you're in Waldo's car. Tell him not to wait for me.”
I went back around to check on Madicof. He was lying on the sidewalk, blood pouring out onto the pavement beside him. The SUV and the two guys who had been in it with him were gone. They'd left him behind.
The door to room sixteen was open and I didn't see anyone inside. The guys who'd been in it had gathered up their money and bailed. Most likely they didn't want to be around when the cops arrived. Neither did I.
I walked back to Waldo's car to check on Erin. She was gone. Raif had come to her rescue. If I hadn’t given her my phone, I would have called and asked him to come rescue me as well.
But I couldn't call anyone and didn't have a car. I only had two options. Knock on room seventeen, hoping that Waldo was there and ask for his help, or walk away. As fast as I could.
I decided that walking was the better choice.
Thinking the scene would keep the cops busy, I stepped out on the sidewalk and started walking toward the Die Inn. It was about three miles ahead of me, and I figured that when Raif and Erin came back looking for me, that's where they would check first.
I was wrong.
Chapter Sixty-Three
I had walked about two miles when the cop car pulled up behind me. A uniformed officer got out, gun drawn, and told me to get down on the ground. I didn't argue. I dropped to the pavement and lay on my belly, arms spread.
While the first officer kept his gun trained on me, the second rushed over and cuffed me. He helped me to my feet and patted me down for weapons. I was glad I wasn't carrying any.
The first officer read me my rights and put me in the backseat of his car. Eight minutes later, I was brought into the St Augustine police station, where I was patted down again then led into an interrogation room.
They put me in a seat facing what I knew was a one-way mirror and connected my cuffs to a chain bolted to the table. One officer left and the other remained, standing near the door.
After about fifteen minutes, a detective came in and the interrogation began.
His first question was, “Where is the gun?”
Followed by, “Why did you shoot him?”
And then, “Who else was there with you?”
I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't answer without telling them about Waldo, Erin, and Raif. I didn’t want to drag them into it, if it could be avoided.
After seeing that I wasn't going to answer his questions, the detective said, “You're only making this worse. Tell me what happened and it'll go easier on you.”
I shook my head and said nothing. The detective took a deep breath. “I tried to help you, but you're not talking, so I'm done. Murder will get you life in prison. Hope you enjoy it.”
He left the room.
Fifteen minutes later, a second detective came in. He nodded at the officer standing in the corner and took a seat across from me. He looked to be about fifty, wearing a rumpled white shirt with a thin, black clip-on tie. He looked tired. I could see it in his eyes and, later on, hear it in his voice.
After introducing himself as Detective Booker, which I thought was a good name for someone in his line of work, he asked if I would like something to drink. I was thirsty but I was going to pass on the refreshments until I found out how long I'd be in the station.
“No thanks. I won't be staying long.”
He smiled, then reread my rights. When he was done, he asked if I understood them. It was the third time I'd been read my rights that night. I understood them each time. “Yes, I understand them.”
The detective, who was acting a lot friendlier than the first one, smiled and said, “Good.”
Before I was put in the cop car earlier that evening, I'd been frisked and they'd found my wallet. It was now sitting on the table in front of me. The detective opened it and pointed to my driver's license.
“Mr. Walker, you're here because there was a shooting. We have an eye witness who saw you when it happened. He said he saw you standing in the doorway of the room where the shooting occurred and saw you leave when the man inside came out bleeding.
“Our witness did the right thing. He called 9-1-1 and stayed at the scene. He told us everything; that's why we picked you up. You were the guy with the gun.
“But that's not all. When we searched the room, we found physical evidence that clearly showed you had been inside. Probably doing a drug deal.
“The only thing we don't know is what you did with the gun. You want to tell me about it?”
I decided to talk. “I didn't shoot anyone and didn’t have a gun.”
The detective frowned and said, “Look, we know you ditched it. If a kid finds it and hurts himself or uses it in a crime, it'll be on you. You don't want that. So tell us what you did with it.”
They had the wrong guy, but I didn't have an alibi. I was at the Romar. I was seen by a lot of people, including the man in the office. The cops had picked me up walking away from the scene of the crime, and I couldn't tell them why I had been there.
I was pretty sure there was no way a witness saw me go into the room with a gun. It hadn't happened that way. I'd been outside in the SUV when the shooting started. When the witness recanted, I'd be home free.
The detective continued to ask questions, and I repeated the answers I had given earlier. “It wasn't me. I didn't shoot anyone and I didn’t have a gun.”
Twenty minutes later, Detective Booker left the room. The officer who had been standing watch left as well.
An hour later, Booker returned. He had good news. The liquor store across the street from the Romar had a security camera. It was pointed at the Romar lot and recorded everything that went down.
Booker was holding a tablet and asked me to watch the video. He clicked play, and the video started with Madicof's black SUV rolling up to room sixteen. It showed Madicof and his associate getting out of the car and going over to the room. Then his goon pulling a gun and kicking in the door.
It showed people in the room firing at Madicof and him stumbling back out with a chest wound, with the driver of the SUV running over to check on him.
At that point, Booker stopped the video. “Now, I need you to explain this next part.”
He pressed play again, and the video showed me getting out of the SUV with Erin close by. It showed us running away to the backside of the parking lot. We were on screen for less than three seconds.
He stopped the video and asked, “What were you doing in the SUV?”
I decided to tell him.
“We were being held hostage. By a guy named Madicof. He thought we knew the location of a guy who owed him a large sum of money. He had grabbed the girl earlier and was holding her against her will. He told me he’d let her go when I found his guy.
“I'd asked around and he was at the Romar. I told Madicof and he had me meet him there. Soon after, he showed up with the girl and his two goons. He had me get in the car and wait while they checked out the room they thought their guy was in.
“The video shows what happened next. As soon as the shooting started, we ran. Next thing I know, I’m getting arrested for something I didn’t do.”
Booker nodded and said, “I'm pretty sure that's not the whole story. But the video does show you weren't the shooter, and you tried to get the woman to safety. That keeps you from being locked up tonight.
“But the investigation is just getting started. Don't leave town until it's over.”
He unlocked my cuffs and called in an officer who escorted me to the door. I stepped out into the night air and was happy to be free. It had been a long day and I was ready to go home. But without my phone, I didn't have a way to call Raif or Erin to come pick me up.
The police had given my wallet back and I had enough cash to make a call if I could find a phone.
I walked a mile and found an all-night convenience store. I called Raif, and he agreed to come get me.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Raif showed up a few minutes after I called. He was alone. Erin wasn't with him.
His first words were, “She's pretty shook up. She's never been in a gunfight before. She saw the man she had spent the evening with die right in front of her. She didn't like him, but she didn't want him dead.
“She's blaming it on you. The kidnapping, the shootout, the police. She said it's your fault. She said she'd be better off if she had never met you.
“She's back at my place. She'll be spending the next few days there until she sorts this thing out. You need to stay away. She doesn't want the kind of trouble you seem to attract.”
I wanted to say it wasn't my fault. It was Waldo's or Mad Dog’s, or the drug dealers in room sixteen. But the truth was, if I hadn't gotten involved, none of it would have
happened. Erin wouldn't have been kidnapped, and she wouldn't have been caught in the middle of a shooting war.
But she had. And she was right. It was my fault.
Raif dropped me off at my RV, and as I was getting out of his car he repeated what he said earlier. “Stay away from her. I mean it. She doesn't want to see you. She doesn't want to talk about it. Leave her alone.”
He returned my phone, the one I’d given Erin the night before, and drove off without saying anything else.
Inside the motorhome, Bob met me at the door. He wasn't happy I had left him alone most of the day. I bent over and stroked his back then headed to the bathroom where I washed the dirt off my face and hands. I filled Bob's bowls and went to the bedroom and flopped down on the bed.
While I slept, the same dream repeated over and over. Erin was on a raft, heading for a waterfall, and there was nothing I could do to keep her from going over. Two thugs held me back and laughed as they watched her disappear in the mist.
Each time the dream replayed, I tried to figure out a different way to save her. And each time, I failed. She always went over.
I was still trying to figure out a way to save her when Bob woke me up around six the next morning. He was on the bed and had nestled his warm body up against mine. His paw was on my shoulder and he was purring. He either knew how bad I felt and was trying to console me or he was just being a cat and didn't understand what was going on.
I'd missed dinner the night before and my stomach growled, reminding me I needed to eat. My first thought was McDonald's. Erin had taken me there for breakfast after our first date. We both had pancakes and it was the beginning of our relationship.
I wanted to return to that happy place in my life. But I couldn't. Erin didn't want to talk to me, and I didn't have a way to get to McDonald's unless I drove the motorhome. I wasn't going to do that.
Instead, I scrambled some eggs, toasted two slices of bread and poured a glass of juice. I moved my food to the table and ate alone. I don't know if it tasted good or not. I'm not even sure if I remember eating.
I was still missing Erin. Still in shock from the events from the night before. Still wishing things had turned out differently.