by Stuart Woods
“You’re a little sensitive, aren’t you, Manny?” Stone asked.
“What’s the matter?” Manny said. “Don’t you guys know when you’re getting your chain yanked? I don’t do that kind of business. Now get out of here—I got no more time for you.”
“I’ll bet you’d have time if I put twenty-five big ones on the desk right now,” Stone said.
“Then do it, or hoof it,” Manny said.
They hoofed it, thanking Manny for his time. IN T H E A I R P L A N E on the way back, Stone tuned in a jazz station on the satellite radio, switched on the autopilot and sat back. “So Manny’s the arranger, you think?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dino replied. “Not that you could ever nail him. Not even if we’d been wearing a wire today.”
“Manny’s a shit, but he’s not stupid,” Stone said.
“Anyway,” Dino replied, “we know how he’s paying for that offi ce space.”
“You betcha,” Stone said.
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STON E M E T E VA N Keating and Gigi Jones at the airport. Gigi rented a car and left for the Marquesa, while Stone drove Evan to the Federal Building in Key West, near the Monroe County Courthouse.
“Now, listen to me carefully, Evan,” Stone said. “It’s important that you answer all of Corelli’s questions truthfully.”
“Why not?” Evan said. He didn’t seem concerned.
“I’ll tell you why not. It’s a federal crime to lie to an FBI agent, a DEA agent or any other federal law enforcement offi cer. Corelli is going to be investigating this incident with your boat from more than one direction, and if he finds something that contradicts your testimony, you’ll find yourself doing jail time.”
“Just for lying to a DEA agent?” Evan asked. “It doesn’t seem all that important.”
“Remember Martha Stewart? They didn’t get her for insider trading; they got her for lying to an FBI agent. She did a year for that. You might keep that in mind if you start to fudge an answer.”
“Why are you letting me talk to this guy?” Evan asked. “You’re my lawyer.”
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“I’m letting you talk to him because I think you’re innocent of a crime and you can be truthful with him without hurting yourself. If that’s not the case, tell me now, and I’ll cancel the appointment.”
Evan was quiet. “Why is it to my advantage to talk to him?”
“Because you’ve been caught in possession of drugs—that’s a felony. The amount found and its purity indicate intent to distribute—
that’s another felony. If you can truthfully convince Corelli that you’re innocent, we may be able to make this go away. If I tell him you’re not going to answer his questions, you’re liable to find yourself charged and on trial, and they have a lot of evidence. Do you fully understand your situation now?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Do you still want to answer Corelli’s questions?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Now, we’re likely to be seated in a room with a mir-ror on the wall. Behind that wall is certainly going to be a video camera, and probably several other DEA agents, including Corelli’s boss. Everything will be recorded, and they’ll play it over and over again, so your demeanor will be important. Give full answers; don’t be terse. It’s not like you’re taking a lie detector test; you’ll be talking to human beings who will make judgments about you.”
“Are they likely to give me a lie detector test?”
“It’s a possibility. Does that make you nervous?”
“Of course.”
“If they suggest it, I’ll tell them no,” Stone said. “That won’t surprise them. If we feel they need more convincing, then we’ll suggest a polygraph.”
“How good are those things?”
“Pretty good, if the operator is experienced and neutral.”
“I think I could pass it,” Evan said. “Suggest it, if you feel it’s in my interests.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stone said.
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them in an interrogation room—just a table and four chairs. Another man joined them, and Corelli introduced him as John Myers.
“Are you a DEA agent, Mr. Myers?” Stone asked him as they settled at the table.
“I’m an assistant U.S. attorney,” Myers replied. Stone nodded as if that didn’t bother him.
“Mr. Barrington,” Corelli said, “first I have a few questions for you for the record, given your presence on Mr. Keating’s boat.”
“That’s fine with me,” Stone said.
“Are you acquainted with a New York City police detective named Dino Bacchetti?”
“Yes, he was my partner when I was with the NYPD.”
“Please explain the presence of the two of you in Key West.”
“A law firm with which I am affiliated in New York was asked to send someone to Key West to find Evan Keating, in connection with a family business matter, and I was asked to go. Lieutenant Bacchetti came along as a sort of vacation.”
“And how did you come to be aboard Mr. Keating’s boat on the day in question?”
“I received a phone call from Chuck Chandler, a local tennis pro, who was the previous owner of the boat. He said that while cruising on his new boat, he saw Mr. Keating’s boat anchored near Fort Jefferson. He didn’t see anyone aboard, and he didn’t fi nd anyone ashore, and he was curious as to why the boat seemed abandoned.
“There had been a previous attempt on Mr. Keating’s life by a person or persons unknown, and I became concerned for his safety. Lieutenant Tommy Sculley of the Key West PD came with Dino and me in a seaplane, which landed near the boat. Tommy and I swam to Mr. Keating’s boat, broke into it and searched it, fearing that he and his girlfriend might be aboard, injured or dead. We also broke into the stern locker of the boat and found what appeared to be a large quantity of drugs.
“At that moment, a Coast Guard cutter arrived and the captain 213
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joined us aboard. We had a conversation, then we left the boat in the charge of the Coast Guard, and they impounded it.”
“Did you call Mr. Keating immediately?”
“No, there was no cell phone service that far out. I called him after we returned to Key West.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barrington,” Corelli said. “Mr. Keating, how did your boat come to be anchored and abandoned at Fort Jefferson?”
“My girlfriend, Gigi Jones, and I cruised out to the fort, where we snorkeled and went ashore to see the fort. We had dinner aboard and spent the night. The following morning I called my grandfather, Eli Keating, in Connecticut, and he told me that my father, Warren Keating, had been found shot to death a short time before.”
“Mr. Keating, Mr. Barrington has just told us that there was no cell phone reception at Fort Jefferson. How did you call him?”
“I have a satellite telephone, which works very well at Fort Jefferson.”
“I see. What did you do upon hearing the news of your father’s death?”
“I called a seaplane service at Key West airport. They came and fetched us and flew us to Miami, where we got a commercial fl ight to New York, then rented a car for the drive to Connecticut.”
“And you just abandoned an expensive boat anchored at Fort Jefferson?”
“I didn’t feel I had a choice; my grandfather needed me. I locked it, and when the seaplane arrived, we took the small rubber dinghy from the stern locker and used it to paddle to the airplane. The plane couldn’t come alongside without a wing hitting the superstructure.”
“Did you lock the stern locker after removing the dinghy?”
“No, there was no padlock for it. The old one had corroded and was no longer workable, and I had not yet replaced it.”
“What else was in the locker besides the rubber dinghy?�
�
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“Just fenders and lines for the boat, and a second anchor. Miscellaneous boat stuff, nothing else.”
“And you did not lock the stern locker before you departed?”
“No, I had no lock for that purpose.”
“You didn’t have a combination padlock?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“While you were anchored at Fort Jefferson, did another boat approach yours?”
“No, we didn’t see another boat for the whole time we were there, which was, I guess, around eighteen hours. We did see an airplane once, shortly after sunrise, flying low—sightseeing, I suppose.”
“What kind of airplane?”
“A small Piper, I think, something like the Warrior.”
“A seaplane?”
“No, I didn’t see any fl oats. It circled the area a couple of times, then flew away in the direction of Key West.”
“Did you see anyone at Fort Jefferson when you went ashore?”
“Not a soul. The circling airplane was the only sign of life we saw out there, until the seaplane arrived for us.”
“What happened to your rubber raft?”
“It’s still at the Key West Airport, I suppose. I haven’t had time to retrieve it.”
Stone was impressed with Evan’s composure and the clarity of his responses. “Agent Corelli, Evan is willing to take a polygraph test, if it would be helpful to you.”
Corelli glanced at Myers, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Thank you, that won’t be necessary at this time,” Correlli said.
“Maybe later.”
“Is there anything else, gentlemen?” Stone asked.
“Yes,” said Myers, speaking for the first time. “I have some questions about Evan’s relationship with Charles Boggs and the death of Mr. Boggs.”
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Stone didn’t like this a bit. “How is that relevant?” he asked. “I haven’t had time to consult with my client about that situation.”
“Its relevance will become apparent,” Myers said. Evan spoke up. “It’s all right, Stone,” he said. “I’m willing to answer their questions about Charley.”
Stone still didn’t like it. “All right, gentlemen, but I reserve the right to stop the questioning and consult with my client, if I think it’s necessary.”
“Certainly,” Myers said, then he turned to Evan. “What is your full, legal name?” he asked.
Stone held his breath.
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EVA N KEA T I N G R E G A R D ED Assistant U.S. Attorney John Myers calmly. “My name, since birth, is Evan Harold Keating. I was named for my great-grandfather, Evan, and my father’s brother, Harry.”
“Why did you approach the Key West police and the county attorney and tell them your real name was Charles Boggs?”
“I believed that my father, Warren Keating, had poisoned my Uncle Harry, and that he might want to kill me as well.”
Stone interrupted. “I should tell you that the FBI lab has confi rmed that Harry Keating died of thallium poisoning, a source of which was found in Warren Keating’s garden shed, and that prior to Evan’s visit to the police, he received a gunshot wound from a sniper, so he had good reason to fear for his life.”
“I thought that if my father heard that I had been killed, as Charley had been, he would stop trying to kill me,” Evan said.
“How did you come to be acquainted with Charles Boggs?”
Myers asked.
“We attended prep school together and were close friends until 217
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after we left college. After that, we lost track of each other, until I came to Key West and ran into him.”
“Where did you run into him?”
“At a bar on Duval Street. I didn’t recognize him at fi rst, because he had grown a beard.”
“Did you go into the drug business with Charley Boggs?”
“No, I did not. I realized early on that Charley was using cocaine, because he offered me some, which I declined, but I didn’t suspect he was dealing until I saw him hiding something on his boat that appeared to be packets of drugs.”
“How did you come to kill Charley Boggs?”
Stone interrupted. “Are you aware that Evan has received a guarantee of immunity from the county attorney which covers that incident?”
“I am,” Myers replied.
“Will you guarantee that you will not prosecute Evan for anything associated with the death of Charley Boggs?”
“Yes, since he has already told me that he was not dealing drugs. If he tells me anything to contradict that, I may reconsider.”
Stone nodded to Evan.
“Gigi and I, perhaps foolishly, removed drugs hidden on Charley’s houseboat and on his motorcycle and disposed of them in the sea off Key West. I had hoped to reason with him, to stop him from dealing. As you might imagine, Charley was upset with us, and an argument ensued. He seemed convinced that Gigi had persuaded me to get rid of the drugs, which wasn’t so, and he produced a gun and pointed it at her. He racked the slide, and I could see that the safety was off.
“I picked up another gun of Charley’s that was lying on a kitchen counter and pointed it at him. He fired a shot at Gigi, which missed, and I shot him before he could fire again. We disposed of both guns in the sea, off Key West.”
“And you never, at any time, bought or sold any drugs?”
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“We did not, at any time.”
“Evan,” Stone said, “did Charley Boggs earlier infl ict a knife wound on you?”
“Yes, he did,” Evan replied, patting his ribs on his left side. “I’ll show you the wound, if you like.”
Stone interrupted. “So you see, Evan had good reason to fear violence from Charley Boggs.”
“Charley wasn’t really a violent guy,” Evan said. “It was the drugs. He was using a lot of cocaine, and it was making him crazy.”
“Evan,” Myers said, “do you have any idea why anyone would put drugs on your boat?”
“No, I do not.”
Stone spoke up. “I have already posited to Agent Corelli that someone might have wished to use a boat familiar to the Key West authorities to move drugs into the harbor.”
“Yes, I know,” Myers said.
“Is there anything else, gentlemen?” Stone asked. Myers looked at Corelli, who shook his head. “Not at this time,”
Myers said.
“Will you release Evan’s boat?” Stone asked. “He lives aboard it, and he’s being put to the expense of staying in a hotel.”
“I’ll direct the Coast Guard to do so,” Myers said, “but I must tell you that if evidence surfaces that indicates the involvement of Mr. Keating in drug dealing, his boat will be subject to impounding again.”
“I understand,” Evan said.
Stone and Evan rose, everybody shook hands, and they left the building and went to Stone’s car.
“That seemed to go well,” Evan said.
“Yes, it did. I’m greatly relieved,” Stone replied.
“I have your fee back at the Marquesa,” Evan said.
“Thank you,” Stone said. “If you see any other sort of trouble coming down the pike, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me now.”
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“What sort of trouble?”
“Do you expect to be stabbed, shot at or charged with any crime?”
Evan laughed. “No, I don’t. I hope to lead a more peaceful life from here on.”
“Good,” Stone replied.
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LAT E I N T H E afternoon, Stone and Dino were having a drink on their front porch when Evan Keating came down the walkway and stopped.
“Good afternoon,” he said, offering Stone an envelope. “There’s your fe
e for your day’s work.”
“Thank you,” Stone replied, tucking it into a pocket.
“I wonder if I could ask a favor of the two of you?” Evan asked.
“What can we do for you?” Stone asked.
“Gigi and I are being married tomorrow morning, and since we don’t know anybody in Key West, we need a couple of witnesses. Would you stand up for us?”
Stone looked at Dino, who shrugged. “Sure,” Stone said.
“Thank you. We’re in the cottage at the end of the walk, and the hotel arranged for a justice of the peace at noon.”
“We’ll be there,” Stone said.
“There’ll be lunch in the restaurant after that, and I hope you can join us.”
“Sure, we’d like that,” Stone said.
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“We’ll look forward to seeing you at noon, then,” Evan said, and with a wave, he walked back toward his cottage.
“You mind staying another night?” Stone said.
“Not at all,” Dino replied. “It’s funny, but usually, when I go on vacation, I’m antsy to get home. Something about this place, though— I hate to leave.”
“Why don’t you buy a house, and I’ll come to visit,” Stone said.
“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
They were just about to order their second drink when Tommy Sculley ambled up to their cottage and accepted a rocking chair and a drink.
“I thought you’d like to know that your client is clear with the feds,” Tommy said. “And the Coast Guard has released his boat. It’s being towed to the yacht club. They’ll put it in my berth, since my boat is out of the water for some work.”
“That’s good to hear,” Stone replied, “and I’ll pass the news about the boat on to Evan.”
“And the ballistics report the Connecticut cops sent me matches the bullet that was recovered from Evan’s boat, so the same assassin was after both Evan and his father.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Stone said. “The only person with any kind of motive to kill both of them is Evan’s grandfather, and his motive would be purely financial. Since he’s a wealthy man anyway, and since he’s in his eighties, he doesn’t seem a likely candidate. The Connecticut state cops have already looked at him and eliminated him as a suspect.”
