“The FBI thinks Keegan embezzled money from Will’s company. They think it enough to issue an arrest warrant. Will gets wind of it. To cover it up, Michael gets on board and pushes Will off.”
“It’s thin,” I said .
“So is what the SA has on Ron. We just have to discredit his story, not prove this one.”
“You think we’re done?”
Lenny frowned and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to assume that. Ron’s fate might depend on it.”
“So what do we do?”
“I’m going to go see Allen, tell him about this embezzlement business. You need to check the final box. The last crew member.”
Chapter Twenty
THE LAST BOX to be checked ran a prestige car lot in Palm Beach Gardens. Lenny dropped me home and headed back downtown to see Allen, while I took my bike and headed north to chat with Alec Meechan. I parked the bike in the driveway and hung the helmet on the handlebars, and then pulled on a Patriots cap. The lot was full of low-slung speed machines. If you were in the market for a staid luxury sedan, this was not your place. Ferraris, Maseratis, Lamborghinis. A lot of testosterone waiting to tear up the pavement. I was looking at a red Ferrari when a preppy-looking dude sauntered out toward me. He didn’t know it, but he was a caricature of himself. He wore pressed trousers and a double-collared polo, with one of the collars popped. But the kicker was the sweater he had knotted around his shoulders. It had to be ninety degrees in the shade.
“Chick magnet, my man,” he called as he approached. “They’ll be all over you with this baby.”
He flashed a winning smile that complemented his perfect thick hair. He had chiseled features, and if he were wearing a kerchief around his neck I would have sworn he was Fred from the Scooby Doo cartoons I watched as a kid. He didn’t offer a handshake. I recalled what Ron had said, that he liked to one-up everyone, never liked to give a straight answer, so I decided not to ask any straight questions.
“This car was made for you, brother,” he said, slapping my back.
“It’s very Magnum PI.” I smiled. I could be Magnum PI. Except for the fact that I didn’t have dark hair or a mustache, and my look was more Huey Lewis than Tom Selleck.
“What’s Magnum PI?” he said.
I raised an eyebrow and wondered if the world was going to hell in a handbasket.
“You the owner here?” I asked.
“You better believe it,” he said, finally offering his hand. “Alec Meechan.”
“Miami Jones.”
“Miami Jones.” He smiled. “Miami, like Indiana.”
“No,” I said. “Miami is nothing like Indiana.”
“No, I meant—”
“Don’t hurt yourself, pal,” I said. “Tell me about this car.”
So he did. He rattled off top speeds and cubic inches of displacement and trim quality. I walked around the car like I had the cash in my pocket to drive her off the lot.
“So, enough chitchat,” said Alec. “You need to take her for a spin.”
That was true. I really did. I had ridden a bike for too long. I was sick of having to wear jeans that stuck to me like spray paint just to go out and get some milk. I was tired of having to borrow Ron’s Camry for stakeouts. It was time to step up and get a car. And test-driving a Ferrari was as good a way to delay that event as any.
Alec backed the thing out of the lot like it was on fire, and slid over into the passenger seat. I dropped down, a long way down, into the car. It felt like a go-cart .
He smiled. “She’s got serious grunt, so watch out.”
I checked the mirrors and realized that the Ferrari was a stick shift. That made things interesting. I popped the gear into first, and then slowly pulled out, easing the clutch and praying that I didn’t stall. I would have liked to have asked Alec Meechan some questions as we drove, but I was so fixated on making the gear changes and not crashing a quarter-million-dollar car, that I couldn’t string two words together. Fortunately Alec suggested we get onto the turnpike and see what the car could really do, so I pulled north and I tightened the cap on my head, dropped the transmission into sixth gear and the little red car took off like a ballistic missile. Once I was at a steady speed, I relaxed a little.
“Feels good, huh?” Alec shouted above the wind whipping around us.
I nodded. “So I heard you were a sailor.”
He did a bit of a double take, and then nodded. “Yeah, I sail. Down at the PBYC. You?”
“A bit.”
“You own a yacht?”
This was a leading question. To answer yes, meant I probably had the resources to buy the car.
“A Beneteau. Oceanis 523.”
He nodded again. “Nice.”
“Didn’t you do the Palm Beach-Nassau in one of those?”
Now he frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I do my research.”
“You do, huh?”
“Wasn’t that the boat that the skipper got lost on?”
“That’s right.”
“Lost at sea. That’s gotta suck. ”
“I wouldn’t know.” He motioned for the next exit. “Let’s get off here.”
I did as I was told and pulled into the right lane to get off the turnpike.
“Word at the club was that you were supposed to be on watch when the guy went overboard?”
“Who says that?”
“Just the word about.”
“That’s baloney, man.”
“Really? I heard you relieved the navigator, Drew Keck, wasn’t it?”
Alec looked me up and down. “You know a lot.”
“I keep my ears open. So is that true?”
“What difference does it make?”
“I like to know who I’m doing business with.”
“Yeah?”
I glanced out of the corner of my eye and noticed him making an assessment. Was I worth the potential sale or not?
“Well, your sources need to get their facts straight, friend,” he said. “I did relieve Drew, that’s true. He’d been on watch all the way across the banks. There’s lots of stuff to run aground on out there, you know? So I said I’d take his turn when it got dark.”
“Makes sense. But you didn’t do it?”
“Nah. The skipper, Will Colfax. You ever meet him?”
“Once or twice.”
“So you know he’s a bit of player, right? He’s an older dude, but he likes to think he’s got the moves. So he’s putting the style on this chick on board, right?”
“Felicity Havill?”
“Yeah, you know her?”
“Cutie. ”
“Yeah, she’s okay, if you like that sort of thing. But old Will thinks he got the stuff, right?”
“You weren’t interested in Felicity yourself? Come on,” I said, shaking my head.
“Nah, man. I mean I could do that. I coulda had her, sure. But it’s Will’s boat, you know? So I cut the old guy a break. Let him have his shot.”
“So you didn’t go up on deck because Will was up there with Felicity.”
“You got it. Just giving the dude his space. So I waited in the galley. And what with the race and all, I was tired, I must have just fallen asleep.”
“Wasn’t there another girl on board?”
“Amy, yeah.”
“You have a shot at her?”
“I coulda, but Hispanic chicks aren’t my type, you know what I mean?”
“I’ve seen her around—she’s attractive.”
“You think? I don’t know. She’s hard work. I tell ya, she didn’t like Felicity none.”
“Why not?”
“Cause Will put the moves on Felicity. Girls get their noses out of joint over stuff like that.”
“She was upset that Will chose Felicity over her?”
“Nah, man. She was upset because Felicity chose Will over her.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded.
I got off the turnpike, then wound back onto I-95 and c
ruised around the speed limit back to Palm Beach Gardens.
“It’s a bad business, anyway,” I said. “You think it was an accident, or did someone shove him off the boat? ”
“My guess is he sent Felicity down to his cabin for a little R ’n’ R, you know, and while he was setting up the autopilot he was drinking too much and fell off.”
“You know about autopilots?”
“I know what I’m doing on a boat.”
“It’s a grim way to go, lost out at sea.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure. That’s why you gotta pay attention. Drinking out at sea is for fools, man.”
I pulled back into the lot and stopped the car.
“So what do you think? Hot ride or what?”
“It goes nice,” I said. That was the understatement of the year. It was like driving a bullet, just with better handling.
“So, shall I get some paperwork together?”
I got out and closed the door. “Tell you what, give me a day to think on it.”
“This is one hot item, man. I can’t guarantee it’ll still be here tomorrow.”
“That goes for all of us,” I said, picking up my helmet.
Alec frowned like he had no idea what I was talking about, which was fine, because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure myself.
“That’s your ride?” he said with a look at my bike like he just caught me cheating at poker.
“Just borrowed it from the shop,” I said, which wasn’t a complete lie. I pulled the helmet on and revved up the bike, and I saw Alec’s mouth move, but I couldn’t hear him. So I waved and rode away.
Chapter Twenty-One
LIZZY SENT ME a text to say Lenny was at the new office, and when I arrived I left the bike in the shadow of the building and headed upstairs. Movers were hauling file boxes into the new space, and Lizzy was directing traffic, telling each where to deposit their load. A tradesman was measuring up the new wall that separated the two interior offices, preparing to install the drywall. Lenny sat at his desk, looking through a pile of boxes. The sofa was yet to make it in, so I sat on the edge of his desk.
“You talk to Allen?” I asked.
Lenny nodded. “I did. He thinks the Keegan thing muddies the water well and truly. He plans to ask for a hearing in chambers.”
“How does that work?”
“He sends a brief to the judge, outlining the basis, and if the judge thinks it sufficient, he’ll call in the state attorney for a chat in his chambers. Based on that he’ll set a hearing, or maybe knock it out straightaway.”
“Sounds long-winded.”
“Allen says it can happen quickly, like all in a day, but the unknown is the FBI. The judge will want to verify the arrest warrant on Keegan, so that may take time to do. And he might want to speak to the FBI agents about their basis for the warrant. But he thinks it’s a matter of when, unless the state comes up with something new.”
“Like what?”
“I mentioned Special Agent Moss had told us there was some physical evidence found. He was curious about that.”
“So we wait and see?”
“We do. What did you find?”
I told him about my discussion with Alec Meechan.
“So do you think he and Will were competing for the affections of the same ladies?” asked Lenny.
“Possible. He acts like the big man on campus. I don’t see him doing the so-called honorable thing and stepping away from Felicity just because it was Will’s boat.”
“So-called honorable, you got that right.”
“There’s also Amy. Drew Keck said he thought she liked the ladies, and Alec backed that idea up.”
“That’s always interesting.”
“Question is, do we have enough to get Ron out?”
“Allen thinks probably, but I don’t want to leave Ron’s freedom to probably. Let’s not muddy the water—let’s serve up a few of those alternative hypotheses on a platter.”
“So what have we got? Michael Baggio pushes Will overboard because he’s onto the roommate committing embezzlement.”
“Or they were in it together,” added Lenny.
“Right. Then there’s Amy, who might have been keen on Will or Felicity, but either way was rebuffed.”
“Thin, but muddy.”
“Drew Keck had some kind of deal going with Will, which he denies but everyone else confirms. Maybe the deal goes south?”
Lenny frowned. “I’d like to know more about that. ”
“Right. Then there’s Alec, who may have been in competition for Felicity’s affection, but got beaten by the richer man.”
“That always hurts.”
“And there’s the ex-wife, who has the houses, but what will she do for cash? The life insurance won’t pay out without a body, not for years at least. And what was Drew Keck doing at her house if she didn’t like the yachtie types?”
“Well, she wasn’t on the boat, but any link to Drew makes her interesting,” said Lenny.
“And I’ve been wondering, why did she tell the police about Mandy? There was no suspicion of her having done anything wrong—the sheriff was there to inform her that Will was lost at sea. And she said herself she was okay with Will’s so-called dalliances, so why did she feel the need to point them in the direction of Mandy? To incriminate Ron somehow?”
“That’s an interesting theory, but as likely as not, it’s nothing more than coincidence.”
“Isn’t that exactly what we’re trying to do? Make coincidence look like more than it is?”
“True enough.”
Lizzy tapped on the frame of the wall and came in carrying a box wrapped in brown packing paper.
“Hand delivery for Miami,” she said, handing me the box.
“We haven’t even moved in yet,” said Lenny.
“I must be ahead of my time.” I looked at the box and saw no return address and no postage stamps or courier barcodes. As a rule I don’t get many hand-delivered boxes, but if I did I wouldn’t open them in public, so I put the package on Lenny’s desk.
“I’m going to get office supplies,” said Lizzy. “Do you need anything? ”
“Ron?” Lenny gave her a solemn smile.
“Have faith. The Lord will look after Ron.”
“Can he tell us what happened to Will Colfax?” I asked. The question earned me a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone.
“I’ll be back,” she said to Lenny.
“Me too,” said Lenny.
“Where you going?” I asked.
“See Allen again. I want to update him. And see if he’s heard anything more.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll stay here.” So I did. I sat down in Lenny’s chair and flicked my feet up onto the desk, and I watched the tradesman lift some drywall up and screw it into place. He did two sections, and then he stopped. Half the wall remained open on one side. He turned to me.
“Gonna need some more drywall.”
“So it seems.”
“Got some in my truck.”
“Excellent.”
I wasn’t sure if he was aiming to get me to volunteer to go get it for him, or if he was just a master of stating the plainly obvious. He nodded like he’d come to a definitive decision, and he ambled out of the office. I watched him go, and then I looked around the room. It was much nicer than the old office, and closer to Longboards, which was a huge plus. Being across from the courthouse probably wouldn’t hurt business either. And despite Lenny and me doing most of the boring, dirty work, it was all really possible because of Ron. It was his contacts in banking and insurance that were bringing in the corporate dollars, and it was Ron who did most of that corporate work. So it felt all wrong to be starting here without him. Beyond my feet I noticed the package Lizzy had brought in, and glancing around at the empty office, I picked it up.
It wasn’t ticking, so I felt safe enough. I undid the paper and tossed it aside. Inside was a wooden box. It had no markings, just brass hinges. I opened the box u
p. Inside was something wrapped in a soft cloth. I looked around the office again like some kind of secret agent, and then unfolded the cloth, revealing a Glock handgun, an exact copy of the one I had held in Sally Mondavi’s store. There was no note, and no ammunition. Just the gun, and a single magazine. I picked the gun up and felt its cold weight in my hand. I noted that the weapon had scuff marks on the frame, the side of the barrel and on the slide under the ejection port. Serial numbers long gone. It didn’t make me feel better to have a gun in my hand, let alone an unlawful one. I always considered myself to be on the side of the good guys, and this didn’t feel like the actions of a good guy. But Lenny was a good guy, and Lucas was a good guy, and I trusted their opinions that this was an item of last resort, one worth having if I was going to continue spending time on the seedy side of the tracks.
The question that plastered itself all over my mind was where to put the darn thing. I didn’t feel good about taking it to my apartment, and I certainly wasn’t leaving it in a filing cabinet in the office. I knew Lenny didn’t carry on a regular basis, but I didn’t know where he kept his weapons, and my legal gun, the Ruger, remained in the custody of the shooting range. But they weren’t going to hold a gun with the serial numbers removed, so I had to find a plan B. Then I saw it. I was staring at half a wall. The framing was in place, as was the drywall on the outer side. But in Lenny’s office only half had been finished. I stood and looked at the space. There was enough room to place the box on the framing so the box would be hidden inside the wall once the drywall was put in place. The trick was getting the drywall up before the tradesman noticed what was behind it.
I wrapped the gun up and packed it back into the box, then put the box onto the wood frame on the floor, right up against the stud. I finished just as I heard a grunt at the front door. I stepped through into the outer office and found the tradesman carrying a couple sheets of drywall. He was straining to the point of turning purple.
“Can I help?” I asked, grabbing one end of the sheets.
“Couple of minutes ago wouldn’t have hurt,” he huffed. I ignored the barb, instead pulling the sheets into the doorway between the two offices. We picked up one of the sheets, and I took the side that would end up near my hidden box, and I directed the sheet of drywall up and into place. I held it there as the guy grabbed his drill and screwed the drywall into the studs. I helped the guy place the next sheet, and as we finished Lizzy came back into the office. She was sorting things on her desk and paid us no mind. I didn’t fancy another stint of sitting behind Lenny’s desk staring at the walls under construction, so I told Lizzy I was heading out, and she told me not to drink too much. I wanted to take offense but couldn’t find any basis for it, so I just kept going. I ran into Lenny in the stairwell.
Crash Tack Page 12
