by Paul Carr
Dalton told her he needed to talk with her about Riley Gunn. She nodded and activated a remote that opened the gate. He pulled in and parked. She drove by and entered a garage. After a minute or so she came out.
“Can we go inside?” Dalton asked.
She eyed him for a moment. “Let me see your badge again.”
When he displayed it, she said, “Michael Dalton, huh?” She gave him the once-over. “I’m a local attorney, and I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”
“I’m new in Key West. You can call the office if you want?”
“I’ll do that.” She took out her phone and selected a number from her address book. A few seconds passed before she told someone her name and asked about Dalton. She nodded her head as she listened and then ended the call. “Okay, you checked out.”
They went inside, sat in the living room, and he told her about the murder. “What?” She stared, her face slack, her eyes glistening with tears.
“I’m sorry. He was killed by a gunshot wound to the head.”
Droplets slid down her face. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes.
“How did you know Mr. Gunn?”
She tried a smile. “I was his attorney.”
“You and he were close?”
Nodding, she said, “Yes, we were friends. I liked Riley very much.” She shook her head. “Why would anybody do such a thing?” She turned away, sobbing.
“We’re going to find out. Were you and Mr. Gunn intimate?”
The sobs ended. She peered down at her clasped hands for what seemed like a long time, as if in shock. Dalton waited, and finally she said, “We were for a while, but not in the last month or so.”
“Did something happen that caused you to stray apart?”
Shrugging, she said, “The usual story: Riley met another woman. It didn’t last long, but I wasn’t interested after that.”
Jealousy and rejection: two powerful motives for murder.
“So, why did you go to the party?”
“Riley said he wanted to discuss the case with me, but he never did. He just got high and flirted with the other women.”
“Are you referring to the lawsuit against the Gardners?”
“Yes. Do you think they had something to do with his death?”
“I can’t say at this point. Do you?”
Raising an eyebrow, she said, “That hadn’t occurred to me, but Raven seemed pretty angry about it at the deposition.”
Dalton nodded. The lawsuit kept coming up. “To your knowledge, did anybody at the party visit Riley’s bedroom for cocaine?”
She smirked. “Yes, Riley and the other band members made a parade to his bedroom. I don’t think the two women did, though. If fact, they looked a little put out by it.”
“You’re certain?”
“Oh, yes. Those three were high as a kite.”
“Do you know if Riley had a will?”
“Yes, he did. I’ll need to get with his mother and other interested parties to go over it. His father is deceased.”
“Please let me know when you plan to do that.”
She agreed. The others had lied about the drug use. Dalton would need to pay Casey and Coe another visit.
“Okay, that’s about all I have, but I need to know about the other woman Mr. Gunn got involved with. Can you tell me her name?”
“Sure, she was at the party. Marilyn Coe.”
Chapter 3
Dalton still had another hour before meeting with Jimmy Earl, so he headed back to Casey’s house. When the rocker answered the door, Dalton pushed through. “You lied to me about the drugs at Gunn’s house. I have a witness who said you made multiple trips to Gunn’s bedroom. I’m not interested in busting you for using, but this is a murder case, and I need to know about his cocaine supply.”
Casey’s blinking eyes grew large. His hands shook. “Well, I uh–”
“I’m going to arrest you for lying if you don’t come clean about this.”
“All right. Let’s sit down. I don’t feel so good.” They stepped into the small living room and took a seat. “I did make a couple of trips back there. There wasn’t much left the last time I went, though. He said he hadn’t been able to link up with his supplier before the party, and he called the guy several times while I was there.”
“Who’s his supplier?”
“I don’t know…”
Dalton shook his head. “I’m warning you; don’t lie to me.”
“Okay, okay, but I need a drink.” He struggled out of his chair, went over to a bar in the corner, and poured a glass of bourbon. Half of it disappeared with the first gulp, the other half with the second. When he returned with a full glass, his hands were steady.
“The guy’s name is Wilbur Hess.” He took another slug of the whiskey and set it down. His face looked mellow, relaxed, probably the start of an all-day drunk. “I’ve called on him a couple of times myself. Nothing like Riley, though. He must be Wilbur’s best customer.”
Too bad they hadn’t found Gunn’s phone. Dalton needed to prod Buddy about getting with the wireless carrier for the call history.
“How did Gunn know Wilbur?”
“He was one of our roadies for about a year, but selling blow paid a lot more money.”
“You have his address and phone number?”
“I don’t know where he lives, but I have his phone number.” He retrieved it from his contacts and Dalton wrote it down.
“Okay, anything else you omitted or lied about?”
“No, nothing else.” The rocker finished his drink and got up for another.
As Dalton got into his car, Jimmy Earl called. “Hey, can we talk tomorrow. My ex just called and said she has an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“She didn’t say, but wanted me to come to Miami and help her out.”
Dalton didn’t like the sound of it, but supposed he could wait. “Okay, what time tomorrow?”
“Maybe ten or after?”
“Okay, I’ll see you at 10:00 a.m.”
He got Crook on the line. “You have any luck with Sheffield?”
“Yeah, I talked to him and his date,” Crook said. “They were both at Sheffield’s condo, and they alibi each other. Both of them seemed pretty shocked about the murder. I don’t think they had anything to do with it.”
“Okay, I spoke with Casey again. He lied about the cocaine, said he used along with Gunn. He also gave up Gunn’s supplier, a Wilbur Hess, and said Gunn had been trying to get in touch with him during the party to buy more. I have his phone number, but no address. Maybe you’ll have time to research him.” He read the number from his pad.
Crook paused on the other end. “You remember, I need to leave by 4:30.”
“Yeah, I remember. Do what you can, and if you haven’t gotten in touch with Gunn’s phone carrier, try to do that, too.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Crook said, an edge in his tone. He hung up.
Good thing Dalton had called when he had, otherwise his partner might have left for the day. He turned on the radio to one of the network news channels. They were talking about the Gunn murder and played a clip from an interview with Sheriff Diaz. He kept it short: “Mr. Gunn was a native son. He grew up in the area and returned to live here last year. We’re devoting maximum resources to finding his killer, and while we don’t have any solid leads yet, we’re interviewing everybody who saw him last. We expect a break in the case soon.” Native son? A little thick, Sheriff.
On his way to the office, he stopped for two coffees and a couple of doughnuts. He knew Buddy loved his doughnuts, despite being thin as a rail.
Crook, busy at the keyboard, gave him a smirk when he stepped into his cubicle.
Dalton set the bag and coffee down at his elbow. “Thought you might miss dinner tonight.”
Crook stared for a moment and then glanced into the bag and smiled. “Hey, good man.” He pulled out a doughnut and began munching before goi
ng back to the keyboard.
Dalton went to his desk and brought up the police report for Jimmy Earl’s stolen vehicle. He put a flag on the record to notify him when it turned up. A few minutes later, Crook brought a note to Dalton’s workstation and laid it down.
“This is the guy.” The note bore the drug dealer’s name and address. “He must do pretty well. Lives in a waterfront home and drives a new Vette. I found Gunn’s wireless carrier, too. They’re going to send me a transcript of his calls for the past month.”
“Hey, good work.” Looking at the time, Dalton said, “You still have an hour before you wanted to leave. How about following me to question Wilbur Hess? He’s only a mile or so away, near the airport. You can leave if it takes too long.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I talked to Speed. He said he’ll set up for the gig, so I don’t have to be there ‘til 7:00.”
“Speed?”
Crook grinned. “Yeah, that’s not his real name. We call him that because of all the tickets he’s racked up. It’s also a pretty cool name for a band member.”
Deputy Daniels called. “We spoke with all the neighbors. Nobody heard anything that sounded like a gunshot. They all complained about the music being too loud, but that ended around 2 a.m. I’m waiting on some footage from a neighbor’s security camera that might give us a glimpse of the victim’s driveway entrance.”
Dalton thanked him, and he and Crook left in different vehicles. They met at the drug dealer’s address, a home that bordered a canal. It sat among many other small houses crammed onto tiny lots. The two detectives parked on the street. A white Corvette sat in the drive, so the owner was probably home. They strode to the entrance, and Dalton pressed the doorbell. No one came, so he tried again a few seconds later. Still no answer.
“Maybe he’s asleep,” Crook said. “He probably does most of his work at night.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, maybe.” Dalton gave the door a loud rap, and it squeaked open a crack. “Something’s wrong.” He drew his weapon, eased the door open about six inches, and called out, “Wilbur Hess? Monroe County Sheriff.” No response, but a rattling noise came from somewhere in the house. “Mr. Hess. Are you in there?” The rattling continued. “We’re coming in.” He pushed the door open and they stepped inside, closing the door behind them. The room had little light, so Crook flipped the wall switch.
The body of a man lay face down on the living room floor. Blood had puddled under his head and spattered the far wall. There was a bullet entry wound slightly above his ear. It appeared similar to the one on Riley Gunn in size and that it had exited the other side of his head. A hole in the center of the blood spatter on the wall indicated the slug might be found there, or somewhere else in the house if it traveled on through. No weapon close by, which would nix suicide. The round had entered the victim’s head from the side, as if the killer might have taken him by surprise.
Rattle. The noise came from the corner. Dalton swung his 9mm in that direction, his pulse drumming in his ears. He eased over. A table at the end of the sofa, along with a lamp on top, flipped into the air, and a creature burst out from underneath. It sped by them in a blur, skirting the body, heading for the hallway.
“What was that?” Crook asked, his tone pitched higher than normal.
“Burmese Python.” Dalton had been introduced to the species many years before on a black ops mission in an Asian jungle. This snake was about ten feet long and as fat in its middle as the business end of a baseball bat. Probably a young one, since they could grow much larger.
“Oh, man.” Crook pressed his palm against his chest, his face ashen. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna wait in the car.”
“Yeah, go ahead. How about calling in the murder?”
“Okay.” His partner hurried out the door.
The room felt hot, and Dalton wondered if the air conditioner might be on the blink, or the owner purposely kept the temp elevated to suit the python. He stretched on vinyl gloves and pulled the dead man’s wallet from his back pocket. It was fat with hundred-dollar bills. The driver’s license displayed a photo of a young man with dark hair, and identified the owner as Wilbur Hess. He turned the body enough for a positive ID, and then turned it back to its original position and replaced the wallet in the pocket.
It appeared Hess had been standing, or maybe heading toward the small kitchen that adjoined the room. The killer could have been waiting behind the door, or entered at the same time Hess had. After popping him, he had fled, leaving the door ajar in his haste.
The place looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Empty beer cans and fast food wrappers littered the sofa and floor. In the kitchen, a huge metal cage sat in the corner, its door wide open. Dalton wondered who had left it that way. A couple of pizza boxes lay open on a dinette table, along with more empty beer bottles. Dirty dishes filled the sink. The refrigerator contained a jar of mayonnaise and a rancid pack of sandwich meat. A drawer in the bottom held clear plastic bags filled with squirrel-sized rats. Pet food.
Easing down the hall, Dalton watched and listened for indications of the snake’s presence. It had hidden somewhere, and he didn’t want to find it. In the single bedroom, a pile of clothes occupied one corner. The bed was unmade. Its sheets, probably white when new, had turned an uneven shade of beige.
A suitcase sat in one end of the bedroom closet. The top was ajar, held open by articles of folded clothing. The items appeared to have been pulled out in a hurry, maybe during a search. Dalton raked the clothes out of the way, pulled the case into the light, and opened it up. More folded items remained inside, but after closer examination he found a button, disguised as a rivet, that released a false bottom. Bags of white powder, probably cocaine, lay underneath. If the killer had searched for the drugs, he had missed the extra storage in his haste.
Hearing voices, Dalton clicked the bottom into place and slid the suitcase back into the closet. He went to the living room and found two Key West police officers. One knelt over the body, staring at the head wound. Dalton flashed his badge for the other. “The victim’s wallet IDs him as Wilbur Hess. I believe he was a drug dealer linked to the murder of Riley Gunn.”
The officer just nodded. “You didn’t foul the scene, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Okay. Key West PD is in charge here. Detectives are on their way. They’ll want to talk to you. I’d prefer if you waited outside.”
“Sure.” Dalton headed out to join Crook in his car.
“The watch commander said this is Key West jurisdiction,” Crook said. He seemed to hold his breath, as if thinking Dalton might blame him for bringing in the city police.
“That’s fine. Hopefully they’ll cooperate.”
Crook shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it. We had a dust up with them a couple of months ago on a robbery. One of our deputies mishandled some evidence at the crime scene, and they pitched a fit about it.”
Within a few minutes, a car pulled up behind them, and two men exited and headed toward their vehicle. “That’s Jack Ringo and Ronnie Culp,” Crook said. “Ringo’s the tall one. A real jerk. Culp’s okay, though.”
Dalton got out and walked along with the detectives to the house, briefing them on what had transpired. He explained that the door had been left open, and how the murder related to that of the rock star.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Ringo said. “Wait out here while we go in and take a look. You’ll have to go to the station and give your statement.”
Dalton nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Ringo gave him a smirk. “Your story better stack up.” He turned and headed inside.
Culp followed and said over his shoulder, “He’s a lot of talk. Don’t take it personal.”
When Dalton returned to Crook’s car, Crook said, “How’d it go with Ringo?”
“Went just fine.”
“You tell him about the snake.”
“He’ll find out soon enough.”
/> A few minutes later, Ringo rushed out the front door, followed by his partner and the officers. Ringo glared at Dalton, pulled his phone from his pocket, and made a call.
****
Crook gave his statement first and headed out to his music gig. When it came Dalton’s turn, Ringo went over his story several times, as if trying to trip him up. His account remained the same, and he didn’t leave the Key West Police station until after 6:00.
While in the neighborhood, Dalton found the nightclub where Marilyn Coe worked and went inside. There were plenty of seats at that early hour. He spotted her behind the bar and sat on a barstool nearby.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Copper,” she said, as she approached. “You here on business or do you want a drink?”
“Ginger ale would be good.”
“Ah, business.”
When she returned with his drink, he said, “Someone told me you had an affair with Riley Gunn. You failed to mention that when we talked earlier.”
She shrugged. “That’s because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re saying it’s untrue?”
“I’ve never had a relationship with Riley. I heard he and Hilda Wright had a thing, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he avoided her at the party last night. She gave me the evil eye every time he tried to hit on me.” Glancing down the bar, she said, “I got customers,” and stepped away.
It sounded as if Hilda could have gotten the wrong idea about Gunn’s other woman. Assuming Coe was telling the truth. She had lied about Casey not having cocaine at the gathering, so she could be lying about Gunn, too.
She returned a few minutes later. “That the only reason you came to see me?” She gave him that smile, the one that made his heart skip a beat.
He attempted a grin, but felt it probably looked a little silly, especially with his face reddening. “There was something else. Colin Casey admitted to using cocaine last night. You said he didn’t.”
Her smile evaporated. “That weasel. I thought he probably did, but I didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
Dalton stared for a few seconds, watching her squirm a little. She added, “He drank so much of Riley’s booze, who could tell. He could’ve done it when I went to the bathroom.”
