by Tripp Ellis
Things were loosening up by the time I climbed the starboard stairs and made myself breakfast in the galley. I was sitting on the settee, scarfing down bacon and eggs and sipping on coffee when Scarlett called. Her frantic voice crackled through the speaker in my phone. "Tyson, I have a situation."
I took a deep breath, anticipating the worst. "So, now you need my help?"
"I'm sorry I was rude the other day. That was inappropriate. I know you're just trying to look out for me. I really do appreciate you."
I don't know if she was sincere, or if she knew exactly what to say to manipulate me. Of course she knew exactly what to say to manipulate me. I answered in a resigned tone, "What do you need?"
"I'm not in any trouble. Yet."
"Yet?”
"But I could be…"
I was silent for a long moment.
"I got a call from my probation officer this morning… I'm scheduled for another drug test tomorrow."
I knew by the tone of her voice she wasn't clean, but I decided to play dumb. "So, are you calling to thank me for confiscating your weed. Now you'll be able to pass your drug test tomorrow."
I could almost hear her squirm on the other end of the line.
"Well, you see, there's a slight problem… I may have… taken a drag of a joint last night."
"You may have?"
"Okay, so I got a little high and played video games with my friends. Is that a crime?"
"In this state."
"Well this state is stupid."
"It is what it is."
"It's perfectly legal in dozens of states now."
"Well, move to one of those states," I said, flatly.
"You're not helping."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I need clean pee.”
I almost spit out my coffee. "You want me to pee in a jar for you?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Could you?"
"I don't think that's going to work."
"Why not? They’re just screening for drugs. They're not checking for sex or to see if I'm pregnant."
"You're not pregnant, are you?"
"No! Of course not."
I paused for another long moment. "You're putting me in a really awkward situation here."
"What? You’d just be peeing in a jar and giving it to me. What's awkward about that?"
"Do you want me to list all the things awkward about that?"
She huffed. "Tyson, please. Are you going to help me or not?"
"Don't you have any friends that are clean?"
"No. Everybody smokes. It's not a big deal."
"You know they're going to search you before you go into the restroom. If they're really suspicious, they might put a monitor in there with you."
"I've got this totally covered. Nobody came in with me last time. I found a small travel size squeeze bottle. I'm just going to put it in my—“
"I don't need to know." I said, pulling the phone away from my ear.
“Tyson, please. Would you stop acting like such a child."
My brow lifted, incredulous. "You're calling me a child? Hello pot, meet kettle."
“Pretty please. With sugar on top?"
I hesitated a moment. "I need to think about this."
"Well, don't think too long. I’ve got to meet with my probation officer at 8 AM tomorrow."
24
"I need to call you back," I said to Scarlett.
Someone boarded the boat. I heard boots against the deck, and a hard knock against the salon hatch.
"Tyson, you in there?" Sheriff Daniels asked.
"Come in. It's open.”
Sheriff Daniels opened the hatch, stepped into the salon, and took off his hat. He wore mirrored shades, and he pulled those off as well. "Don't mean to interrupt your breakfast."
"I'm just finishing up. Want some coffee?"
"No, thank you."
Sheriff Daniels was never this polite. I knew something was up.
"I'm afraid this isn’t a social call."
"What's the problem?"
He hesitated. "You, actually."
I raised a curious eyebrow.
"Now, you know if it were up to me, things would be different. I think you’re great at what you do, though your methods may be questionable. There was a reason I asked you and JD to help out.”
I deflated, and a frown tugged my lips. I knew what was coming. "Did internal affairs declare the shooting not within policy?"
"It's not internal affairs. I'm getting a lot of heat on this from the mayor. Styles says the optics are no good. You had alcohol in your system during the time of the shooting. You were off duty, but…"
“My actions kept more people from getting hurt,” I protested.
"I agree. And if it was up to me, this would be a non-issue. But, it’s not up to me.” He frowned, then said, grimly, “I need your badge."
"You’ve got to be kidding me?" I tried to contain my rage.
"I can’t go against the mayor on this. He’s right. Keeping you on won’t be good for any of us. The media could start poking around, and you know what kind of a stink they can make."
"I understand. Election year. I get it," I said, my jaw tense.
"I know you’re not happy about this."
"No, I'm not."
"I just hope there's no hard feelings. I consider you a friend, apart from all this bullshit.”
"I appreciate that, Sheriff. I do too."
We shook hands.
"What about JD?"
"He can stay on. For now.“
"Good."
There was a long, awkward pause.
"I'll be back in a moment—get that badge for you."
I descended the steps and into the master suite. I grabbed the shiny gold badge and made my way back to the salon. My eyes took a last look, then I tossed the glimmering shield to Sheriff Daniels.
I didn't expect to take it so hard. I felt like I'd been scolded and sent to detention. I was back in grade school at the principal's office.
I’d come to like the idea of doing my part to make Coconut Key a better place. I think I had been doing that, but maybe not everybody saw it that way.
Daniels looked at the badge with a grim face. He started to say something, then stopped.
"What about Thunder Rain?"
"I guess that's not your problem anymore."
"I guess not."
Sheriff Daniels sighed. "But, then again, I wouldn't expect you to just forget about it. Even though that's what I'm telling you to do," he said with a wink.
He knew damn good and well I wasn't going to stop investigating this case till I found out who was responsible. Maybe that's what he was counting on?
“Well, don't be a stranger," Daniels said. He apologized again, spun around, and ambled out of the salon.
I had never had any feelings about Mayor Styles one way or the other. I met him once at the gala. But now, he left a bad taste in my mouth. Just another smarmy politician trying to cover his ass. I didn't care who Styles was running against. He just lost my vote.
I called JD and told him the grim news.
"That's a bunch of bullshit right there," he grumbled.
I neglected to tell him about Scarlett's situation.
"What the hell are you going to do?" he asked.
"This thing with Thunder Rain has gotten under my skin. I'm not letting it go."
"I didn't expect you would. At least Daniels came by and told you in person."
“Well, this wasn't his doing."
I paused for a moment. "Why don't you swing by and pick me up. I want to go back to Forbidden Fruit"
“It's too early for happy hour."
"No. I want to check out the alley again. Somebody had to see something."
I hung up the phone and went back to my stateroom, pulled a T-shirt on, stuck my pistol in my holster, and shoved it in my waistband.
Before JD came by, I took Buddy for a walk. I stepped into the
cockpit with Buddy on his leash. I took in a breath of fresh air and surveyed my surroundings. The gray clouds overhead looked heavy, ready to dump their contents. It had drizzled off and on throughout the night, but a storm was coming. You could smell the rain in the air. It was thick and humid.
After my walk, I came back to the boat and made sure my new roommates had enough food and water. Then I called and talked to Denise.
She immediately offered her condolences regarding the situation. "I'm so sorry to hear about what happened."
"Not your fault."
"Well, you got a raw deal, if you ask me. Coconut Key needs people like you."
"Thank you. I appreciate that." I paused. "Listen, could you do me a favor?"
"You're not going to ask me to do something that could get me fired, are you?"
I chuckled. "No. Nothing like that. It seems I inadvertently adopted a cat. Does Sapphire have any next of kin? Someone who could shelter the animal?"
Hang on just a second," Denise said as she clacked at her computer terminal. "Our records show she has no next of kin. Both parents are deceased."
I frowned. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
There was a moment of silence. Just before I was about to hang up the phone, Denise said, “Since you are no longer a County employee, how about you buy me a drink sometime? You know, in return for the whiskey I bought you."
I grinned. "Sounds reasonable to me."
"Good."
I hung up the phone and contacted the Coconut Key Animal Society and found out their procedure for sheltering animals. Of course, the young lady I talked to urged me to foster the pet myself. I told her I already had a pet and adding Fluffy to the mix was a little more than I wanted to take on. I figured I'd drop off Fluffy either today or tomorrow.
JD picked me up, and we zipped over to Oyster Avenue. He pulled to the curb and parked at a meter a block away from the strip club.
At this time in the morning, the avenue was rather empty, especially with the impending storm on the horizon.
We stepped into the alleyway behind Forbidden Fruit and surveyed the area. I looked around, scanning for any type of cameras across the street, or perhaps an ATM that might have a camera embedded. There was nothing that had an angle on the alley.
I walked from one side to the other. The recent rains had washed away all traces of Thunder's blood.
I heard a thump and a groan spill from behind the dumpster. A homeless man lay on a cardboard mat. The plastic lids of the dumpster were open and leaning against the brick wall of Forbidden Fruit. It created a temporary shelter for the man, like a lean-to.
He was just waking up and had stretched, and his elbow had bumped the dumpster.
His clothing was tattered and stained, and his long gray hair and beard were matted and greasy. He had a round nose with large pores and plenty of lines in his face—each one had a story to tell. He reminded me of an old wizard.
“Excuse me, sir…” I said.
His old eyes looked at me with caution. "What do you want?"
"How long have you been in this alley?"
“What's it to you?" he snapped.
"Just curious. A young girl was murdered here a few days ago. I'm looking for anyone who may have seen something."
He glanced around. "You some kind of cop?"
I hesitated. "Something like that."
"Let's see your badge?"
I nodded to JD. He proudly displayed his gold shiny shield.
"Fuck cops. I don't talk to cops."
I rolled my eyes. "Did you see something, or didn’t you?"
The old man hesitated for a long moment. "I'm kinda hungry. Could use a cup of coffee."
"How about I take you to breakfast? You can have whatever you want. Tell me what you know."
"You two aren’t looking for sexual favors, are you?"
I laughed. "You're not really my type."
"Okay. Breakfast, coffee, and a little spare change, and you got yourself a deal."
The grungy man staggered to his feet. He ambled toward us, and the smell of body odor and urine was overwhelming.
Our faces crinkled as we caught a whiff.
JD leaned in and muttered in my ear. "He is not riding in my car."
25
The hostess at the Driftwood diner almost didn't seat us.
JD flashed his badge, and she relented. She grabbed three menus. With her face crinkled, she led us to a booth in the back. The patrons at other tables almost gagged as we strolled by. In hindsight, I should have taken the old man to get a shower and shave first.
We slid into a booth, and the hostess said, "Your waitress will be with you shortly."
She spun around and marched away.
"Anything I want, right?" the homeless man, Earl, asked.
I nodded.
When the waitress came by to take our order, she looked like she threw up in her mouth a little bit. "What can I get you? Besides deodorant."
"I want bacon, eggs, hash browns, pancakes, waffles, toast, and black coffee," Earl said.
"And for you two?" she asked JD and me.
We both shook our heads.
The waitress collected the menus and disappeared quickly.
The manager had a conference with the hostess and the waitress, and they didn’t seat anyone near us during our meal.
"So, tell me what you know," I said.
"Not till I get my food," Earl said.
I looked at my watch.
It was another 15 minutes before he got served. The waitress clanked down several plates of food, filling the table.
Earl dug into his meal like he’d been stranded on a desert island. He managed to put all of it in his thin belly. After he finished his 1st cup of coffee, he said, "I seen who did it."
My eyes perked up. "Who?"
“Big guy. Dark hair, strong jaw. Had a boxer’s nose. 6’3”, maybe 220 pounds. Mid 30s."
"What happened?"
"Two shots. He had one of those thingamajigs on the end of his pistol."
"A suppressor?" I asked.
"Yeah. He wore all black."
"Where were you?"
"I was at home. Behind the dumpster."
"And the assassin didn't see you?"
"If he saw me, I'd be dead, wouldn’t I?"
"I reckon so," I said.
"I was covered up in a cardboard blanket. Hell, most people walk right by me. I'm invisible."
"Would you recognize him again if you saw him?"
"I never forget a face."
Earl ordered another round of breakfast. After he finished, I paid the tab and left a generous tip for the waitress.
We took Earl to get a shave and a haircut, and I bought him fresh clothes from a thrift store. Then we took him to the Sand Comber Motel. It was a cheap drive in place for tourists on a budget and people looking for a room for an hour or two. I figured he was safer in the hotel than on the street, and I needed him alive.
With a nice haircut and a shave, Earl looked like a distinguished gentleman. His face crinkled at the sight of the motel. "You expect me to stay in this dump?"
I looked at him, incredulous. "I think it's a step up from the dumpster."
He scowled at me. "I don't know about that. I hear these kinds of places have bedbugs."
"I'm sure you'll be just fine," I assured.
I went into the office and paid cash for the room, then JD and I saw to it that Earl got settled into his new accommodations.
The room was basic—two double beds, a bathroom, a television, a wall unit AC. Beachy wallpaper with seashells. Nothing to write home about.
"Stay here. Don't leave, don't answer the door for anybody. I'm gonna pull several mugshots and have you look at them, see if you can identify the perp." I scribbled my number on a pad by the phone. "Call me if you need anything."
"What if I get hungry? Can I order in?"
JD and I exchanged a glance.
I dug in my pocket and gave him a wad
of cash to cover a few meals.
"Do not buy booze with that,” I warned.
“Aye-aye, Captain. You don't have to worry about me. I'm sotally tober,” he said, mockingly.
"You’re a witness to a crime. That makes you a target. It's safer if you stay here."
"Yes, boss!”
He held out his hand and rubbed his fingers together, wanting more cash. "How about a little something for some companionship. I don't often get a hotel room, and I am looking pretty good, if I do say so myself."
"Now why would a man with your charm have to pay for it?" I said.
He scowled at me.
"You making fun of me? I mean, I could forget everything I know about the incident." He tapped his head with his index finger. "Old-timers disease."
I dug in my pocket and peeled off a couple hundreds and handed them to him. "Do not buy drugs with that."
He took the cash and frowned. His nose twisted up. "What kind of hooker am I supposed to buy with $200?"
This guy was impossible.
I shook my head and sighed. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
“For $200, she’s not going to have any teeth,” Earl complained.
JD and I left Earl in the hotel room.
"I think he's jerking us around," Jack said as soon as the door was closed. "Do you think he actually saw anything?"
I shrugged. “He’s the only lead we’ve got to go on."
"I think that cat suckered us. He sniffed out a free meal, and you just gave him money to get a hooker."
"I did not. I just gave him money. He's a grown man. What he wants to do with it is up to him."
JD mocked me. ”Hey, I've got some beachfront property in Colorado I’d like to sell. Are you interested?"
I sneered at him.
There was one person who could help me with this case. I wasn’t keen on asking for another favor, but I called Isabella anyway. “Hey, can you give me a list of every known assassin working in the area?”
“No hello? No how have you been?”
“Cut the shit. I know you hate small talk.”
“Are we talking company men? Or cartel?”
“Anyone and everyone, including freelance. I need images if possible.”
“That’s a big ask,” Isabella said. “What’s in it for me?”
