An Easy Sail_A Connie Barrera Thriller_The 8th Novel in the Series_Mystery and Adventure in Florida and the Caribbean

by Charles Dougherty

  "Yes, or Guadeloupe, sometimes. But Martinique is better for them, because of St. Lucia. It is our close neighbor, only 15 miles across the channel. And it was passed back and forth between England and France 14 times during the colonial period, so there is a common language. Creole French, here, called Kweyol in St. Lucia. It is not exactly the same, but those who speak one understand the other, yes?"

  "So that makes it easier for the smugglers from St. Lucia to get into Martinique? Easier than smugglers from other islands?"

  "Yes, and it is not only language. Because it is so close, there are many people with family connections between Martinique and St. Lucia. There is much small-boat traffic back and forth. Much smuggling, not just drugs, because the taxes, the duties. They are very different between the islands, so much legal merchandise is smuggled in small lots. Is hard to spot, and this conceals the drugs. Over half of the illegal drug shipments into Europe that are intercepted are intercepted off the coasts of the French islands in the Caribbean."

  "Wow!" Marcia said. "You must be very busy."

  "Yes. This is so. And now, we are almost to Fort-de-France. Let us talk now about the shopping."

  "Okay."

  18

  "You were going to tell me why you think Guillermo Montalba is interested in you and Paul," Mary Ellen said, as they walked up the hill from the dinghy dock in Ste. Anne toward Phillip's villa.

  "It's a convoluted tale," Connie said. "Ready for it? Or would you rather wait until we have a pot of coffee in front of us?"

  "No," Mary Ellen said. "I'm dying of curiosity; tell me."

  "Okay. A few years ago, I was involved in a startup business with a medical doctor. We were planning a chain of diet clinics, and we had the pilot operation up and running. I was handling the admin side, and he was hustling the patients and investors. It was a bit of a scam, as you might imagine. I justified it to myself because I thought that even though it was bogus, we were making the patients feel good about themselves, and I … That's a digression. Sorry. Anyway, the main investor that my partner had lined up was a big-time drug smuggler named Sam Alfano. I didn't know about that. It turned out my partner knew, but he kept it from me. Alfano was using the clinic to launder money.

  "I uncovered the money laundering while I was going over the books. I'm not narrow-minded, but I couldn't convince myself that was okay. I wanted out. My partner couldn't afford to buy my share, so I manipulated things to put pressure on Alfano to pay me off. The upshot was Alfano had my partner killed. I got away by the skin of my teeth and helped the cops break up the money-laundering scheme. Alfano disappeared. I spent a couple of years licking my wounds in the Bahamas. About the time I decided to go into the charter business, Alfano caught up with me."

  Connie paused as Phillip unlocked the door to his villa and ushered them inside. "Shall we sit out on the veranda?" he asked.

  "Sure," Connie said, "if that's okay with you, Mary Ellen."

  "It's fine with me. But I could use that coffee, after all."

  "Paul and I will get that going while Connie finishes her story," Phillip said. "You ladies make yourselves comfortable on the veranda."

  "Don't leave me hanging," Mary Ellen said, as she and Connie sat down. "What happened?"

  "The short version is that I tricked him and some of his cronies into believing that I was running a new cartel. I played on their greed and set them up for the police. They got busted, and I met Paul in the midst of all the confusion. So here we are."

  "I still don't see why Montalba's interested in you."

  "I did too good a job of pretending to run a drug cartel. I bought myself trouble from several other mobsters, and helped the police put them away, too. Now I'm picking up vibes that Montalba thinks I'm his competition for smuggling cocaine into the U.S. The thing with Vengeance may have been partly an effort to figure out how I was doing it; he apparently knows Dani and Liz are close friends of mine and Paul's."

  "But he did that to torpedo Horry Velasquez's run for the presidential nomination; I was right in the middle of it," Mary Ellen said.

  Phillip and Paul joined them; Paul put a tray with four steaming mugs and a carafe of coffee on the table and passed the mugs around.

  "But remember the question Dani and Liz kept asking?" Phillip said, picking up the conversation.

  "You mean, 'Why Vengeance?'" Mary Ellen asked.

  "Right. Montalba went to a lot of trouble to use Vengeance," Paul said, "when any yacht would have served just as well for his blackmail scheme."

  "But why not go straight for your yacht, if that's the case?" Mary Ellen asked.

  Connie shrugged. "I don't have the answer to that. It could have been as simple as his discovering that Dani and Liz had left Vengeance in Miami. They gave him the opportunity to use her, and we were out of reach? Who knows?"

  Phillip's cellphone rang, interrupting their conversation. He slipped it from his pocket and looked at the display. "It's Sandrine," he said. "Excuse me."

  "Speaking of phone calls," Paul said, "when he gets back, we need to call Luke Pantene and tell him about Marcia."

  "He still thinks I'm Beverly Lennox, unless you told him."

  "We told him you were using a different name, and that Beverly was back in Miami," Connie said.

  "But he doesn't know what name you're using," Paul said.

  "Don't you trust him with my name?" Mary Ellen's brow was furrowed. "I do."

  "Yes, so do I, but he didn't ask. It was one less secret for him to worry about keeping. He knows he can reach you through Phillip," Paul said.

  "You talking about Luke?" Phillip asked, pulling out the chair he had been sitting in.

  "Yes," Connie said. "What did Sandrine have to say?"

  "Marcia was in the fitting room at some dress shop, so she couldn't talk long, but she's pretty sure Marcia is Graciella Montalba. She said the same thing you did, Mary Ellen. Plus, she remembered watching the sketch artist you worked with. When she gets another break, she's going to call the artist and ask her to change the hair and makeup; something about contouring the cheeks?"

  "I've got a better idea," Paul said.

  "What's that?" Connie asked.

  "Can you get me a fingerprint kit in a hurry, Phillip? I'll go back to the boat before they get back and lift some prints from her stateroom."

  "Sure, that's no big deal. I'll make a quick call." He stood up again and moved toward the door. "Be right back with you," he said, over his shoulder. "Go ahead and get Luke on the horn."

  "Luke took that in stride," Connie said. She and Paul were waiting for the fingerprint kit to be delivered to Phillip's. Mary Ellen had gone back to work at the customs office after their call to Luke. "He seemed a little surprised that she would have the brass to charter with us. I don't think he's convinced."

  "Yes. Well, he's withholding judgment until he sees the prints," Paul said.

  "But he said nobody's seen Graciella since the murder-suicide," Phillip said. "I read that as his agreement that Marcia is Graciella. You don't?"

  "Luke and I go back a long way," Paul said. "We both learned the hard way about relying on eyewitnesses to identify people. It's possible that Marcia's Graciella, but just because Graciella's been out of sight since the murder-suicide doesn't prove she's Marcia. He's being cautious — come on, you two. Graciella's engaged to one of the most powerful men in the country. Luke wants to be damn sure, and I don't blame him."

  They were interrupted by the ringing of Phillip's phone. He looked at the screen and said, "Sharktooth." He accepted the call and switched the phone to speaker mode, putting it in the center of the table.

  "Good morning, Sharktooth," Phillip said. "I'm with Connie and Paul."

  "Tha's good." Sharktooth's bass voice boomed from the phone. "I t'ink this mebbe 'bout them."

  "What's up?" Connie asked.

  "We had a visitor at the gallery las' night, jus' when Maureen was closin'. He was wantin' to ask 'bout you an' Dani an' Liz."

  "Ask
ing Maureen?" Connie asked.

  "Mm-hmm. She had a snapshot of Tiberius an' Lucilius on the wall, 'member?"

  "No, but okay," Paul said. "What about it?"

  "His boss sent him to find out where they livin' in Miami."

  "His boss?" Phillip asked.

  "Mm-hmm. What he say. Workin' for a man named Charlie Caruthers in St. Lucia."

  "Why was he looking for them?" Connie asked.

  "He didn't know."

  "Didn't know? Or wouldn't say?" Phillip asked.

  "Didn't know. Uncle Christian ask him. If he knew, he would have tol' us. You know how Uncle Christian is 'bout askin' questions. Only say his boss tell him ask."

  "Uncle Christian was at the gallery?" Connie asked, frowning.

  "No. Patrick Osei, this mon's name is. Patrick not a nice mon. He threaten to cut Maureen wit' the straight razor, make her answer his questions. She don' like that much, Maureen don'."

  "I guess not," Connie said. "So what happened?"

  "Maureen, she keep that fish billy under the counter. Like the one you use to stun the big fish wit', you know?"

  "Yes," Connie said. "And?"

  "She break his arms wit' the fish billy; take the razor. He try to run, but she break his knee, and call me. Then we take him to Uncle Christian. Uncle Christian give him some potion, help wit' the pain, relax him so we can ask him questions."

  "You said he wanted to ask about us?"

  "Mm-hmm. An' Dani an' Liz. Me an' J.-P., too. An' Phillip."

  "What about us?" Phillip asked.

  "He want to know if we smugglin' drugs."

  "And he works for this man in St. Lucia? Caruthers?" Phillip asked.

  "Mm-hmm."

  "I've never heard of Caruthers," Phillip said. "Have you?"

  "No," Sharktooth said. "Patrick say Caruthers used to work for a mon named Reuben Griffin, but Griffin gone, now, an' Caruthers, he take over."

  "Reuben Griffin? Never heard of him, either," Phillip said. "Where did he go?"

  "Patrick don' know this. Jus' that Griffin, he gone."

  "How did he know to come to Maureen's to ask about Tiberius and Lucilius?" Phillip asked.

  "Don' know. Caruthers tell him. But Maureen, she say Marcia talk to her about Tiberius and Lucilius. She saw the picture, ask if they artists. Maureen, she tell her a little bit 'bout them, that they my cousins, mos'ly live in Miami. Coincidence, huh?"

  "I'll say," Paul said. "That's suspicious, all right. Where's Patrick now?"

  "Uncle Christian's place. He wit' Uncle Christian's goats. Seem mos' happy, now."

  "We're pretty sure Marcia is really Graciella Montalba," Connie said. She and the others brought Sharktooth up to speed on their theory.

  "Mm," Sharktooth said, when they finished. "So she prob'ly recognized Tiberius in that picture Maureen had. Tiberius the one that visit wit' Graciella at her place in Miami. This Patrick, he mus' be workin' for Montalba. You know 'bout how Tiberius mess her up, right? Graciella, I mean?"

  "Yes. We heard that story," Connie said.

  "Mm-hmm. Speakin' of Tiberius, there's one more t'ing mebbe you should know."

  "Okay, we're listening," Connie said.

  "We let Patrick send a message to Caruthers 'bout where to find Tiberius an' Lucilius in Miami. I t'ink mebbe this way, we find the mon in Miami who this Caruthers mon workin' for."

  "And did you warn them? Tiberius and Lucilius?" Paul asked.

  "Mm-hmm." Sharktooth laughed.

  "Are they ready, then?" Connie asked.

  "Those boys always ready for trouble," Sharktooth said. "We jus' wait an' see who come lookin' for them, now."

  "Keep in touch," Phillip said. "I think someone's at the door with your fingerprint kit, Paul."

  "What do you think we should do?" Connie asked, as she watched Paul dusting the mirror on the medicine cabinet door in the guest head with black powder from the fingerprint kit.

  "I'm not sure," he said, his attention on the prints that he raised. "Good set. Got all four fingers of her right hand from where she pushed the mirror closed." He applied a piece of lifting tape to an index card and laid it over the developed prints with a smooth, even motion. He pulled the card away from the mirror. Turning it over, he studied it for a few seconds. "Good," he muttered.

  He affixed the tape to the shiny side of a standard fingerprint card and initialed and dated it, with a short note describing where it was collected. "Let's get this on its way to Luke."

  He used his phone to make a photograph of the card and email it to Luke Pantene.

  "How long do you think it'll take?" Connie asked.

  "Not long. He's expecting it, and it's a nice, clean set."

  "But I thought it took days," she said.

  "Not if you already know who you're trying to match. He said he had a set of Graciella's prints from her application for a concealed carry permit. I wouldn't be surprised if we hear from him before the day's out."

  "That brings me back to my question. What if she's Graciella?"

  "I'm not sure," Paul said. "As far as we know, she hasn't committed a crime."

  "She's using a false identity, Paul."

  "Yes, if she's Graciella. But that in itself isn't a crime. Using a false identity to conceal a crime, or to defraud somebody, that's a different story."

  Connie frowned and shook her head. "That's bullshit; you sound like a lawyer, sometimes. We know she's up to no good."

  "Knowing something and proving it in court are two different things. I'm not saying you're wrong — just that we need to be careful if we're going to come up with something that'll stick. Tell me what you think she's up to; I can't make sense out of this."

  "She's spying on us for her brother," Connie said. "That's all it could be."

  "But why?" Paul asked.

  "They've bought my old line about my being part of a cartel that controls shipments through the Caribbean into the U.S., I guess. As I told Mary Ellen, I did too good a job conning Alfano and the rest of them."

  "Okay," Paul said, "but Montalba looks to be in a different league than those other guys."

  "Yes, but what's your point?"

  "If he thinks we're in his way, why go to all this trouble? He could have just done away with us. Think about it. Look what he went through with Vengeance, and now, sending his sister to spy on us. If that's who she is."

  "He wants something," Connie said.

  Paul frowned and shook his head. "Must be. But what?"

  "From the questions she's been asking, he's looking for our contacts, our distribution network," Connie said.

  "But he has his own; he has to," Paul said. "He makes Alfano and those others look like amateurs."

  "I need to let this percolate," Connie said. "It's not coming together for me right now. Are you going to tell Luke about this man Sharktooth and Maureen caught?"

  Paul looked surprised. "What about him?"

  "The connection to the Jones brothers. What if somebody goes after them in Miami, like Sharktooth said?"

  "Damn. You're right. I was so focused on the Graciella aspect that I overlooked that. We'd better call him." He reached for his phone.

  "Wait," Connie said. "What's he likely to do? Is he going to interfere?"

  Paul's brow furrowed. He gave Connie a hard look. "Interfere? You suggested I tell him. What are you thinking?"

  "I didn't suggest it; I asked if you were going to, that's all."

  "How can I not?"

  "How can you not? That's simple. Just don't tell him."

  "That's not right, Connie. I can't believe you're saying I shouldn't tell him."

  "I haven't said that. I'd just like to work our way through this, okay? I'm trying to understand what might happen if he intervened somehow. Can we talk through it before we call him? It's not like it has to be done this second."

  "Okay, let's think about it. Why would we not want Luke to intervene?"

  "We don't know why Montalba's people are looking for Tiberius and Lucilius,"
Connie said.

  "Probably because Tiberius threatened Graciella."

  "From what we heard, he threatened both of them," Connie said. "You're assuming Montalba wants revenge, right?"

  Paul nodded. "That's the way these guys operate. It's a reflex action for them."

  "Granted. But you already said that Montalba's in a different league."

  "True. I think he is. So?"

  "So he may be looking for a way into what he thinks of as our operation. Maybe he wants to bribe them for information."

  "Or beat it out of them," Paul said.

  "That's what the bush league operators would do," Connie said. "I think Montalba's more likely to make them an offer that'll be hard for them to refuse. He strikes me as more of a businessman than a typical drug dealer. I mean, look at the way he and Graciella have set her up with this senator. That's smooth, not heavy-handed."

  Paul was quiet for thirty seconds, holding Connie's gaze. Then he broke the silence. "What should we tell Luke?"

  "That we'd like for him to keep an eye on Tiberius and Lucilius and see how this plays out?"

  Paul nodded and reached for the phone.

  19

  Charlie Caruthers was biting at a hangnail. He caught himself and jerked his hand away from his mouth. It was no good; he was worried. He hadn't heard from Patrick Osei since the brief text message about the two men in Miami. That had been almost 24 hours ago. Patrick wasn't the most reliable person, but he called in at least once a day when he was on a job.

  Caruthers picked up his cellphone and called his source in Roseau, Dominica. The man was a clerk in the Ministry of Justice. Caruthers never understood what his actual job was, but he spent most of his time on the telephone, gossiping with bored cops all over the island.

  "Hey, Charlie. What's happenin', mon?"

  "You remember I asked you about a mon named Sharktooth the other day?"

  "Yeah, mon. Funny t'ing 'bout that. I jus' heard somethin' 'bout that mon a little while ago."

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "Well, not 'xactly 'bout him, but 'bout his wife, see."

  "What about her?"