by Susan Slater
“Not a clue.”
“But you think the carving wasn’t done by the same person? And maybe the stabbing was done by yet another? The police should be looking for up to three people instead of pointing a finger at one?”
“If someone goes to the trouble of making the murder look like an accidental alcohol overdose, he’s not going to deface the body. That screams for an autopsy and the medical examiner. No, I think someone came along, found Jackson dead, and used him to send a message. Then, possibly a third person not seeing the etched warning, stabs him thinking he or she’s killed him. Remember Jackson was lying facedown in the hallway.”
“You know there’s no way that Fucher could have killed Jackson via tubed ingestion. He wouldn’t know there was such a thing, let alone do it. What a disgusting way to commit murder.”
“I agree. I’ve given Roger a heads-up. As soon as the coroner’s report is released, he’ll be able to approach the judge. Of course, given the warning message, the knife, and Sanchez owing him money, it might not change things that much. Intent to kill is still a serious charge. In the meantime I hope to have answers as to the ‘puddle’ of blood under the body.”
***
They didn’t get to bed before one. He liked running things by Elaine—this sharing a career interest was working out just fine. As long as he didn’t dwell on the possible dangers. Like maybe her needing to carry a gun. He was pretty proud of himself for not reacting to a guy hiding under the car and grabbing her ankle. And the grabber was one of the good guys.
They’d divided up the last of the Chianti and carried glasses upstairs. Alone time. It had been a long day and a little cuddling and whatever that led to sounded just about perfect to Dan. And it was. Funny how little it took to push Mom and Stanley and five greyhounds to a back burner and let him just enjoy the moment. He loved this beautiful woman with his ring on her finger.
What he didn’t love was his cell phone going off at two thirty.
“Mr. Mahoney? You gotta come quick. They’re gonna shoot me.”
“Fucher?” Dan’s feet were on the floor and he was already reaching for jeans and tee-shirt. “Where are you?”
“Here.”
“At home?”
“Yeah.”
Dan hung up and told Elaine to call 911—someone was threatening Fucher’s life.
By the time Dan had reached the front door, he could hear angry voices coming from the parking lot in front of Fucher’s townhouse. Fucher’s porch light was on and about six people crowded together on the steps and stoop. Two people had guns.
Uh oh. Not good. Dan broke into a jog.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” He pushed through the group to stand by Fucher and Sadie.
“This crazy son of a bitch kills my brother and the father of these girls here and he’s loose.” The woman talking held up the hands of two teenaged girls. Her black hair was piled loosely on top of her head, and bright red lipstick had found the creases around her mouth as well as the filter on the cigarette dangling to one side. There was a strong smell of alcohol and the most inebriated of the bunch also had a gun—a man slouched against the railing at the bottom of the steps.
“We live in a country where you’re innocent until proven otherwise and no—”
“That’s just so much bullshit.” The man with the gun started up the steps, then lost his balance and fell against the man next to him. “You deserve to die.” He waved the gun in the air in the general direction of Fucher. “Nobody gets away with killing my compadre.”
As if on cue the sirens of three cop cars drowned out any more dialogue. The group abruptly scrambled to their cars and, making U-turns, headed for the exit. Dan hoped the cars would be stopped. There were a couple potential DUIs in the group.
“Are you okay?” Dan realized that Fucher was shaking.
“Yeah. Sadie’s okay, too. She was pretty scared, though. I had to give her lots of pets.”
“Good for you. Sadie’s a very lucky dog. I’ll wait here until the police leave. They might have some questions.”
The cops didn’t take long and promised to put an extra car in the area to patrol at night. Maybe nothing more than an occasional drive-by, but it was something. Finally, Dan could say “good night” and admonish Fucher to lock the door after he left and keep it locked while he was inside. He got a promise and was feeling relieved as he took off down the steps. Nothing worse had happened than just a good scare. They were lucky—then he heard Fucher’s door open behind him.
“Mr. Mahoney? I forgot to tell you. This evening? I saw Maximillian take second at Tampa in the first race.”
Dan turned around, surprised by the rush of adrenalin. Wow. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted those dogs to be alive.
“Were you able to get a screen shot?”
“Uh uh. You want to come see?”
“Yes, I’d like to take a look.” Could wild horses keep him away? Dan doubted it and took the steps in two leaps.
He waited while Fucher put Sadie back to bed—this entailed straightening her blankets and giving her a dog biscuit once she laid down. If a dog could look smug then that was the expression on Sadie’s face. She knew when she had it good.
“Over here.”
Dan followed Fucher to a table set up with viewing equipment, a computer, and printer. Actually, Fucher was good with electronics and quickly isolated the screen shot and blew it up for viewing.
Dan leaned in. He just wished these damned dogs didn’t all look alike. But then he was more than sure that someone could put Rottweilers in the same boat. He studied the yellowish gray brindle with reddish-brown stripes. Maximillian was a big dog—over seventy pounds, he’d guess—long and lean with superior rear angulation. You didn’t have to be an expert to see that this animal was special.
“What makes you so sure this is Maximillian?”
“His eyeliner.”
“I’m not following.”
“See his eyes? He’s got thick black lines, like makeup.”
Funny, once he mentioned it, there did appear to be heavy pigmentation around the eyes.
“See here, it’s at the end of the race? The trainers give them treats. I don’t know that guy.” Fucher pointed to a blurred image of what was probably a man snapping a lead on Maximillian.
Dan was trying not to feel too excited. But still, instinct told him someone who knew the dog well couldn’t be wrong. Mellow Yellow was out there racing and so was Maximillian. He had Fucher email the screen print to him. He’d keep Fucher working on the tapes; if surveillance had paid off once, maybe it would again. There were still three other dogs unaccounted for. But, for now, he felt like there’d been a small victory.
***
Elaine borrowed night-lens binoculars and the zoom-lens camera from Dan and showed up promptly at six p.m. at Scott’s office. She’d opted for a black baseball cap instead of a scarf, but thought the black linen shirt and slacks were exactly what was called for. And she’d traded in sandals for gray cross-trainers. The uniform of her new career. No killer heels, silk blouses, or pencil skirts…not a bad trade-off.
The ride to The Villages was uneventful. Once again Elaine was taken with the beautiful farms—most replete with sleek, thoroughbreds frolicking in green fields. A winter training area in preparation for spring racing. It reminded her of New Mexico—the farms outside Carrizozo, just to the south of where she grew up. She would never tire of open spaces.
“A penny.”
“Sorry. I’m not very good company. I was just thinking of home.”
“Well, enjoy the scenery. It gets a little congested in The Villages.”
Scott reviewed the drill one more time as they passed the entrance to the right of Lake Sumter. This was surveillance, pure and simple. The husband had first contacted him early in the summer. The man’s wife had admitted t
o having an affair, but he cancelled any surveillance when she apparently had a change of heart and came home—only to rekindle his suspicions now. Scott reiterated how the husband thought his wife was lying about playing mah-jongg and was really sneaking off to meet someone. They were to follow her to the recreational hall and record any comings or goings. She would leave home around seven-thirty and was supposed to be back by eleven. Scott had a description of her car and the license number. Elaine stifled a yawn. Her first case seemed boringly straightforward, but hadn’t Dan warned her that surveillance would make up the bulk of any PI work?
“Cactus Jack and the Cadillacs are playing tonight.” Elaine read the activities board to the right of the stop sign.
“Wouldn’t have guessed you to be a Cactus Jack groupie.”
“I’m not, but I am trying to imagine living here in another twenty years. And I don’t think I could do it.”
“I’m with you. A little too regimented. Still, if you like everything planned and play a lot of golf—it’s paradise.”
He passed five gated individual communities and pulled through the first set of wrought-iron gates in number six. He punched in the security code and they followed the road as it curved to the right.
“We’re looking for 1168 Sleepy Hollow. We’ll pull past the house and then circle back but stay a safe distance away. Usually a half block is sufficient. When no one is looking to be tailed, they’re usually blind to what’s going on around them.”
The houses were incredibly close together. Elaine couldn’t imagine living with just a few feet separating you from your neighbor on either side. A sneeze and half the block would reach for a box of Kleenex. And people were standing in line to buy these? And the golf carts…was there one in every driveway? She thought so. Once they spotted 1168, Scott executed a U-turn and pulled to the opposite side of the street, cut the engine, and picked up his binoculars.
“Two cars in the driveway, can barely see a cart from here. Uh oh, looks like we got here just in time.”
Elaine focused her binoculars on the house just as a female exited and, walking between the parked cars, opened the door on what appeared to be a late-model, black Cadillac and got behind the wheel. Elaine’s view was somewhat hampered by the car being on the far-side of the drive, but the shoulder-length bob of platinum hair acted like a beacon. Elaine watched her as she backed slowly out of the driveway and seemed to hesitate at the edge of the street.
Scott leaned forward to start the car just as the garage door started to rise on the house directly north. A car exited with what appeared to be a single male driver. “This is interesting.” Scott had picked up his binoculars. “Coincidence that a male is exiting the house on their right? Guess we need to wait a minute to see.”
“Won’t we lose our subject?”
“Not at the rate she’s driving.”
Elaine watched as the Cadillac rolled to the corner stop sign where she seemed to be taking overly long to assess traffic and pull across the intersection. In the meantime the white Chrysler sedan backed to the edge of the driveway and turned in the direction of the Cadillac before slowly falling in behind and following it through the intersection.
Scott put his car in gear and moved forward. “Might be a good idea to jot down the license number. We don’t know if there’s a connection but we might be ahead of the game if there is. Here, let me get you a little closer.” He maneuvered his car to within twenty feet and Elaine opened her iPad and added the number on a clean “notes” page.
“Oh, wait. I have this number already. I thought it looked familiar.” She explained how when Maggie Mahoney had first asked her to check Stanley’s info, she had been driving his car. Elaine had taken down the plate thinking it might help trace him.
“Good going. It’ll be interesting if he’s the other party.”
Their progress was painstakingly slow. Scott allowed two other vehicles to separate them from the white Chrysler. And the Chrysler was about four car-lengths behind the Cadillac. Approximately two miles from where she started, the driver of the Cadillac pulled into a large parking lot in front of a recreational center. The driver hesitated, then drove around the side of the building and disappeared. Scott signaled and deftly parallel-parked across the street. The Chrysler continued on by.
“Oh no, have we lost her?”
“Just finding a parking place, I think.”
As if on cue, their subject walked back around the side of the building, up the steps, and went inside. The Chrysler had made a U-turn and slowly came back in the opposite direction. If it hadn’t been for the furtive wave as the Chrysler drove by, it would have been easy to think they’d guessed wrong. But there it was. A connection of sorts. Now they just had to see if the two subjects made actual contact.
The wait wasn’t long. The blond bob reappeared at the door of the building and walked down the steps. The Chrysler had accelerated, turned around once again, and was now waiting at the curb. Scott’s camera was clicking away and he waited until she had entered the car to get his final shots. Elaine did the same zooming in on Stanley.
“Great. Timing was perfect.”
Elaine couldn’t help but notice his enthusiasm—here was a man who loved his job. Could she ever be that upbeat about tracking down and proving people’s foibles?
Scott waited until the Chrysler was stopped for a stoplight at the end of the block before pulling out, making a U-turn and being careful to slip back into traffic two cars behind. The Chrysler accelerated, continued straight for two blocks, then signaled, and turned left onto a wide boulevard—a long stretch of paved road with few turnoffs. Scott let the Chrysler stay a few car-lengths ahead and didn’t try to close the gap.
“Where do you think they’re going?” Elaine was intrigued.
“Living side by side they can’t sneak off to each others’ houses. Gotta find another place to rendezvous.”
It soon became clear that any tryst wasn’t going to happen within city limits. The Chrysler continued out the main entrance and turned to follow the east shoreline of Lake Sumter. Now it became trickier to fall behind and still keep them in sight as the road twisted and turned back upon itself.
“Are we on a golf course?”
“I think you’re right. Looks like it ends at the edge of that wooded area. Too many courses in this area to keep track of. This one looks new.”
Suddenly the lights ahead of them blinked, then disappeared in the outcropping of trees that formed a boundary to the manicured greens. Scott slowed, “I think they just pulled off. I’m going to continue but look to your left. Unless they’re driving without lights, you should be able to see them.”
Elaine squinted into the almost pitch black evening. Then around the second turn, she spotted it—what must be their destination. About a quarter mile off the main road, several yard lights illuminated a large metal building. It could even be some kind of hanger. A person could certainly store an RV in it.
“Looks like that’s where they’re headed. I don’t see the car. They could have already pulled over.”
“I’m pretty sure they did—parked along the road and are going to hoof it in. We need to check it out.” Scott pulled off the road at the edge of a turn-around and got out of the car.
A tingle of excitement—this was certainly no longer boring. Elaine straightened the strap on the binoculars and placed them around her neck. She opened her car door. October—and there was just the hint of coolness once the sun went down. She pulled on the field jacket she’d borrowed from Scott and pushed the camera deep into a front pocket. Ready. She fell in behind him as he crossed the road.
“From this point on, no talking.”
She nodded. There was no comparison between this and teaching Lit 101 or even a master’s level course. She smugly wondered if Dan still felt this kind of excitement. She could certainly understand how he’d made investigatio
n his career.
The cross-trainers had been a good choice. Elaine slipped on wet leaves and felt her shoes sink into a sandy loam that caked the soles. Not the place for a pair of Jimmy Choos, that was for sure. And low hanging branches on palmetto palms snagged her jacket and tugged at her cap. So much of Florida reverted to a jungle status if not hacked back on a regular basis.
They were close enough now to hear voices ahead of them. One male, one female. Then a trill of laughter. The two of them certainly seemed to enjoy one another. Scott put out a hand to stop her and motioned toward a thicket. From this vantage point they could see the big double-doors of the building about forty feet ahead.
The couple paused while the man dug into his jacket pocket for what was probably keys and, then, as if they just realized that they were alone, they kissed. And not some chaste peck on the cheek. For all the world this looked like a warm-up to tearing each other’s clothes off.
Elaine already had her camera ready and had snapped a shot after zooming in for a close-up. Pretty chummy—especially his two hands placed squarely on the backside of his partner. And speaking of that backside, the tight, rounded bottom hinted of a little “tucking.” At this stage in life, gravity would have taken a toll. Elaine was sure of it. And there certainly didn’t seem to be any resistance from the blonde. If this was Stanley Evers, maybe this photo alone would discourage Maggie Mahoney from continuing the relationship and Elaine wouldn’t have to divulge the bogus personal information—and run the risk that the lying would be discovered. It certainly would be the safest to have her just walk away.
The doors swung open and the man produced a flashlight pointing it into the building before they entered. Then, they both stepped inside and the doors closed. A faint light could be detected under the door like the flashlight was on the floor pointed toward the interior.
“I’m going to try to get closer.” Scott eased out of the thicket and mouthed, “This way.”
Scott stayed in the sandy ditch to the side of the road that led directly to the double-doors. Quieter that way, she knew. They were just at the edge of the building when that quiet was shattered by the siren from a cruiser barreling down the main highway, abruptly turning and bouncing along the overgrown, two tire-track trail that led to the oversized barn.
