by Paul Carr
“This is Dalton. I’m glad you’re still there. I’m at a drainage ditch behind Blake Owen’s house and there’re some shoe prints I want you to check out.”
“You mean now?”
“Well, yeah, right now. If it rains tonight they might be gone.”
Tarver grumbled but agreed to come over.
Dalton took a page from his notepad, stuck it on a foot-long stick, and used it to mark the spot for the CSIs. He walked to the end of the property where the ground was firm, crossed over the ditch, and headed to Owen’s back door. Had he not stopped for the shoeprints, it would’ve taken only a couple of minutes to go from his vehicle to the victim’s back door. That gave the two men plenty of time to get inside, murder Owen, and get back to their SUV before the neighbor came back out.
When he got back to where his car was parked, he headed next door to an ancient double-wide. It wore a thick coat of glossy white, paint. Plastic flamingos, pelicans, and dolphins dotted the gravel-covered front yard. A frail man with white hair answered Dalton’s knock. He flashed his credential. “Are you Bobby Carson?”
“Yeah, that’s me, all my life.”
Dalton asked about the SUV, and Carson frowned. “I told all that to a policeman earlier today.”
“I know. I just need a couple more details.”
The man shook his head. “Okay, come on in. I was just about to open a beer. You want one?”
“Thanks, but I’m still on duty.”
They went inside and Dalton took a seat on the sofa. A small black poodle eyed him as he sat down. Carson got his beer and sat in a chair across from him. The dog hopped up in the old man’s lap.
Carson said, “I don’t have to work anymore. Retired from an auto plant up north and bought this place.” From the looks of the man, it appeared he had been retired at least three decades. “I assembled all the parts: doors, hoods, engines, lights. And I welded, too. I did it all.” His face slackened in a wistful expression, and he took a drink from his beer. “I hear they have robots to do all that stuff now.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that, too.”
“All right. You didn’t come here to talk about me. What else do you need?”
“The deputy told me you saw two strange men park at the vacant home next door a couple of nights ago. Can you tell me anything about their appearance?”
“No. It was too dark.” Carson frowned. “Why are you interested in those guys?”
“I’m investigating a murder.”
The man strangled on his beer and coughed for several seconds. When he got things under control, he said, “Who got murdered?”
“A man who lives around the block.”
“And you think those two killed him?”
“Maybe.”
Carson’s eye grew large, as if just realizing that the men he had watched so casually might have been dangerous. “Well, I couldn’t identify them, even if you had them in a lineup. Like I said: too dark.”
“But you’re certain you saw two men?”
“Oh yeah, I’m certain, but I couldn’t see their faces.” Carson took a long pull on the beer, slapped his chest with the palm of his hand, and began another coughing fit. The dog jumped down and circled the chair a couple of times, whimpering. It finally settled down and lay at the old man’s feet.
When the coughing subsided, Dalton said, “Is there anything else you can tell me about the men, like if they were tall, short, fat, thin?”
“Oh, maybe. Let me think. One was tall and one was short, little, I mean. He was the driver. At first I thought he was kid, but a car went by as they passed by the bushes, and lit them up for a split second. I could see they were both grown men, and the little one had something in his hand, like a small tool box. That house has been on the market for a while, and I figured they were there to fix something.” He remained quiet for a beat, then said, seemingly to himself, “They couldn’t see me because I was behind the bush.”
“Did either of them say anything?”
“No. They just got out and eased through the yard.”
“You said a car went by and lit them up. You sure you didn’t see their faces?”
The old man frowned and took a long slug of his beer. “I’m pretty sure they were looking the other way, and I didn’t see their faces, but the big guy had a tattoo on his arm.”
“What was the design of the tattoo?”
“Aw, I couldn’t tell. Just looked like a lot of ink to me.”
Dalton nodded. He didn’t think the tattoo helped much. Lots of men had them. The members of the Redgunn band had plenty of ink on their arms, and he didn’t think anything about it at the time. It was something to check out, though. Maybe get photos to show Carson.
“Can you remember anything else about the vehicle they were driving?” Dalton asked.
“Just that it was a shiny, dark color. It was quiet, too. I barely heard the engine.” Carson stared at the door for a moment, and then said. “You think they might come back and murder me, too?”
“I think you’re safe, but keep an eye out for the vehicle. Call me if you see them again.” He left one of his cards and went out the door.
In the car, Dalton thought about what the man had said about the intruders’ sizes. The small one fit the description of William Chan and his driver. Chan’s vehicle also fit the description the man had given of the SUV, but it also fit that of hundreds of other vehicles in the Keys. The larger man could have been the shooter in the Gunn and Hess murders. He wondered if Jack Ringo had tattoos. The detective had worn long sleeves each time Dalton had seen him.
He located Chan’s address on the motor vehicle printout and entered it into the navigation system. It indicated Chan lived about three miles away, a block off Flagler Street. The trip took just a few minutes. Chan’s house was palatial compared to the retired auto worker’s place. A two-story, it sat about a hundred feet from the street. Palms obscured most of the façade. Dalton drove by and parked a block away with a clear view of the driveway. Twenty five minutes later, Chan’s limo turned in. Dalton wished he could get a search warrant and go through the house, but knew he didn’t have enough evidence. He wondered how difficult it would be to get inside the place while both men were away, and thought he might consider that for the next day.
As he pulled away from the curb, a black Range Rover exited Chan’s driveway and headed the other way. Dalton waited until it got ahead by a couple of blocks and followed. Whoever drove the vehicle could be meeting somebody important to the case. He stayed behind the SUV until it reached the Star Resort. Instead of turning into the employee lot, as the limo had done the week before, it kept going and rolled into the marina next door. A Key West Star Resort sign stood at the entrance. It appeared open to the public, but Dalton supposed it existed primarily for the use of resort clientele. A place for the wealthy yacht owners to park their vessels while lodging in the hotel.
The dash clock read 8:35, and the sun had been gone for a few minutes, leaving the area in twilight. Dalton pulled onto the shoulder of the road and felt in the rear floor for his field glasses. He brought them to his eyes and tracked the SUV. It turned into a spot alongside the dock. A man got out, and Dalton recognized him as the Asian limo driver. He now wore a casual shirt and pants instead of a suit. The driver peered around the marina, as if searching for something, or someone, and then eased down the dock and boarded a fishing boat fitted with tall outriggers.
Dalton drove into the marina, turned right, and circled around so he would be behind Chan’s employee when he left the lot. He pulled over to the side before reaching the SUV and turned off his headlights. The area lay in near darkness, and he wondered why the overhead lamps hadn’t lighted up.
A few minutes later the SUV driver exited the boat carrying something large. The vehicle’s interior light flashed on when he opened the back hatch and loaded the item inside. It was a cooler, the kind that might contain iced-down fish. When he got inside and backed out, a black SUV sped by him a
nd turned inward, blocking his way. Three men wearing DEA vests hopped out and pointed automatic weapons at the Rover’s windshield. They yelled for the driver to get out of the vehicle and on the ground. He did as they instructed, and one of the men retrieved the cooler. He nodded to the others and carried it to their vehicle. They cuffed the Asian man and drove away with him in the back seat.
Dalton began to pull out and follow when a small car went by. It was a tan sedan that looked familiar, and when he saw the driver, he remembered where he had seen it: parked at Marilyn Coe’s mobile home. From the beginning he had hoped the beauty with purple hair wasn’t involved, but being present at an apparent drug transaction didn’t look promising. She had an intense expression on her face, and she appeared to be carrying on a conversation with someone not in the car. He pulled out and followed.
A few blocks away from the marina, Coe turned and headed in the direction of the bar where she worked. Dalton stayed back several car lengths and turned into the bar’s driveway as she parked in an employee area far away from the entrance. She hurried to the door and went inside.
Soft reggae played on the jukebox as Dalton entered. He didn’t see Coe until he reached the bar and she came out from the back. She began serving drinks, and when she spotted him, she smiled and ambled over. “Hey, you off duty, or is this more police work?” If she had been upset before, she had gotten over it, and now seemed as carefree as the last time he had visited the bar.
“Give me whatever you have on tap.”
“Coming right up.” She went away and returned carrying a frosted mug with a quarter inch head on the beer. “So how’s your investigation going?”
“Not good,” he said, as he pulled a bill from his wallet and laid it on the bar.
“Uh-oh. You look like you’re in a bad mood.”
He took a long drink from his mug and set it down. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“You might. I just saw you over at the Star Resort’s marina. Why don’t you tell me what you were doing there.”
The smile dropped a few watts. “Must’ve been somebody else. I’ve been here a while.”
Dalton shook his head. “No, it was you. I also saw the DEA haul away William Chan’s limo driver, along with what appeared to be a cooler filled with drugs. You know anything about that?”
Something changed in her eyes, and she said, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.” She stepped away and went through the door leading to the back. About three minutes later she came out, followed by a man shaking his head, a frown on his face. He went over to serve a customer, and Marilyn came down Dalton’s way. She made a drink for a man a couple of seats away. Then, without looking at Dalton, she picked up his money, left a small note, and went back to serving customers down the bar.
The note read, “Meet me at my place in twenty minutes.” He palmed it, took a last drink from his beer, and left.
Before that night, he would have been excited about an invitation to her home, but he knew this was different. His pulse beat in his ears. When he reached his car, he got in and waited. She exited a few minutes later and went to her car. He followed.
When they reached her mobile home, she pulled into the small driveway, and he parked on the street. Inside, she said, “Have a seat. You want a drink?”
“What do you have?”
“Gin, vodka, wine.”
“Gin and tonic?” He asked as he sat down in an easy chair facing the sofa.
“Sure.” She made the drink and handed it to him. “Chill out while I go change clothes. I spilled whiskey on these jeans.”
When she left the room, he sipped the drink, and then pulled his service weapon and laid it on his lap. He thought he heard the shower running down the hall. About fifteen minutes passed before she returned wearing the nightgown she had worn the first time he had talked with her. She held something in her hand, but it didn’t appear to be a weapon. After making herself a drink, she took a seat on the sofa and laid the object on the table. It was a leather clutch. Her hair looked different, pinned back from her face, and she appeared to have removed all makeup from her face. It didn’t diminish her beauty at all. If anything, she looked even more beautiful than before.
“It’s been a long day,” she said and took a drink from her glass.
“My patience is wearing thin. You going to answer my question about the marina?”
“Yes.” Glancing at the handgun in his lap, she said, “Don’t shoot me,” and then reached for the clutch. She opened it and held it up for him to see. It was a photo of her, only with blonde hair, and above the photo were the words, “Drug Enforcement Agency.”
Chapter 11
Marilyn Coe laid the clutch on the sofa next to her. “We had an ongoing investigation of Chan and others, and I couldn’t tell you about it at the time. When Riley Gunn got murdered, my boss was afraid you would come in and trample on everything we’ve set up.”
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you been investigating Chan?”
“Couple of weeks.”
Dalton felt his face heat up. “So I guess you already know a lot of what I’ve been snooping around trying to learn the last few days.”
“Not necessarily. We were only interested in the drug connection.”
“Yeah? I guess you didn’t care that the drug connection might’ve played a part in the murders.”
She gave him a pouting lip. “Well…I’m sorry, but we needed to nail Chan, and I couldn’t bring you in on it. I asked, but the boss declined.”
Dalton wondered if that was the truth, or if it was just her way of putting him off. “What do you know about Chan’s hooks into Redgunn.”
“We knew Hess was one of Chan’s dealers and that he was a former roadie with Redgunn. We were watching him, but didn’t have eyes on his place the night he got murdered. We assumed he was in bed by midnight and our guys left.”
“So how did you know Colin Casey?”
One night Hess strolled into the bar with him, so we decided to put the microscope on him, too. I got the job at the bar as a cover, because Hess was a regular there. I’ve tended bar before, and the owner hired me on the spot.”
“I noticed he lets you come and go as you please.”
“Yeah, I think he has a crush on me.” Her tone sounded offhand, as if that happened pretty often. “Anyway, Hess and Casey came in again after I’d been there a few days, and I flirted a little with Casey. He asked me out to dinner one night and I went. I prodded him several times about drug availability, but he didn’t let anything slip. Then the subject of the party came up, and he wanted me to go with him. I thought that was my chance to see inside the band and figure out who else might be involved.”
“Were you successful?”
“No. But we’re pretty sure somebody besides Hess was dealing, and maybe still is.”
“Somebody in the band?”
“That’s our suspicion. The best we can determine, it all began when they returned from Asia. Chan had been here for a while before that, but didn’t show up on our radar until we arrested a dealer up in Marathon. He told us Chan killed his supplier and took over their territory. He said he’s bringing in most of the cocaine in South Florida now. The guy we got tonight is just one of them. We suspect there’s more, but we got lucky catching him since he’s one of Chan’s employees and was driving his vehicle.”
It made sense that there was somebody else involved, and it could be Gunn and Hess’s killer. Although Dalton had guessed Chan was pulling the strings, he thought it was only because of the lawsuit.
“You know Jack Ringo, the Key West PD detective?”
“I haven’t met him,” she said, “but I know he’s investigating Hess’s murder. Why do you ask about him?”
“I saw him coming out of Chan’s suite at the Star Resort today. He lied about his reason for being at the resort when I told him I saw him. Said he was gettin
g information about the place for someone who wanted to stay there. Chan wouldn’t have anything to do with that.”
“I’ll ask my partner to check him out. You think he’s in Chan’s pocket?”
“That’s my opinion, until I find out otherwise. Does he know about your investigation?”
“I don’t think so. We suspected somebody with the police might be involved, so we didn’t give them a heads-up. Your revelation about him meeting Chan makes me think that was a good decision.” She stared for a moment, then said, “I never suspected you, though.”
“I have a feeling you know a lot more you aren’t telling me. You said Chan’s drug business got off the ground after Redgunn returned from Asia. Do you know how that came about?”
“No, but we figured it wasn’t a coincidence. Something must’ve happened over there. Maybe Hess linked up with them.”
Nodding, he said, “Yes, something happened. Chan is part of a company called Eon Harbor, and Redgunn stayed at a hotel by that name in Thailand. According to one of the band members, Riley had some kind of episode with drugs and might have killed a woman.”
Marilyn’s eyes widened with a smile. “I knew it had to be something like that. Who told you about that?” She pulled her legs up underneath her. The gown rode up several more inches above the knee.
Dalton thought she was stringing him along, maybe playing him a little. “Like I said, one of the band members.”
“So you’re not going to tell me who?” She smiled. Her eyes were mesmerizing.
“It isn’t important. Riley ended up in the hospital, and the band came straight home when he got released. I think the Eon people set him up so they would have leverage against him. At the time, his grandfather had a multimillion-dollar lawsuit against Chan’s resort partner, Raven Gardner. The grandfather died sometime after that, but Riley went forward with the lawsuit. Later, he told his lawyer that the law firm representing Chan’s company threatened him if he didn’t drop it. It shook him up, and I believe the threat had something to do with what happened in Thailand.” The words had just spilled out. He thought he should stop and get out of there.
