by LS Sygnet
Her black eyes glittered with hatred. “I know what you’re doing. Do you think that Curtis hasn’t already talked to me? What’s to stop me from testifying that it was possible that Danny orchestrated Sofia’s adoption to the Sherman widow? God knows, he’s always had plenty of people surrounding him willing to do whatever he asked of us.”
“Did that sound like a confession to you, Helen?”
“Pretty damn close. Why would you want to help protect the woman who stole Datello’s daughter, Ms. Gerard?” It was truly a baffling concept to me. Shouldn’t her loyalty to the boss make her more inclined to see Sherman rot in prison?
“Just like him, it’s worth the price to watch you fail, Detective Eriksson. Go in. Search to your heart’s content. I promise you. You will find nothing.”
Dev and I watched her storm off to an expensive sports car and screech out of the parking lot.
“Is it me, or was that rather…”
“Odd?” I finished the thought.
“Twilight Zone bizarre,” he said. “Now I’m concerned.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s known for two days that we wanted to get a look at this place, and she just promised that we won’t find anything.”
“She doesn’t know what we’re looking for, Devlin.”
“You sure about that?”
I shuddered. “No, I’m not sure about anything. And why is she on a first name basis with Sherman’s lawyer Marcel? Curtis already talked to her. Maybe there is cause for concern.”
“You made a point though, Helen. They think we’re looking for glaring evidence, not the subtle clues you suggested. I’m inclined to go with your gut on this one.”
“Which gut instinct was that?”
“That if something illegal was going on over here that Datello might’ve been in the dark about it.”
“Finally. C’mon. Let’s start searching for some of that subtle evidence that might back up my theory.”
Inside the office, Raleigh Shaw met us, rather apologetically. “Ms. Gerard left a standing order that if the police showed up asking questions, I was to call her immediately. I didn’t realize until after Ms. Datello called that Ms. Gerard isn’t running the show anymore.”
I explained what we wanted to see.
Shaw frowned. “The fuel records?”
Devlin nodded. “Isn’t that what Ms. Gerard told you to anticipate we’d request?”
“No sir,” he said. “She took a bunch of boxes out of here on Saturday though, mostly those dealing with one of our deep sea ships in particular. The Celeste. She’s Danny’s largest trawler, though she’s not our biggest harvester.”
Devlin and I glanced at each other.
“Deep sea?” I asked.
“Sure. She heads out into the Pacific and trawls for tuna. She’ll be going out again on another trip this week. Just got back into port last Tuesday, if memory serves. I don’t know what Ms. Gerard wanted with the files on her. She didn’t take anything important as far as I could tell. We make copies of everything, you know.”
“But she took the original paperwork?”
He nodded at Devlin. “Sure did. Like I said, it was more of a curiosity than anything else.”
“If you had to speculate, what reason could you think of that she’d want those records in particular?” I asked.
Shaw scratched one fingernail through the thinning strands covering his scalp. “Well, if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say she was planning to beef up the operation, maybe figure out why Umberto and his crew can’t seem to bring in more fish than even our smallest trawler.”
“Mr. Shaw, was Danny ever concerned that The Celeste wasn’t performing better than it was?”
“Sure,” Shaw said. “He was on my ass about it nonstop. I told him these things happen, but to be honest, I figured that Umberto’s ambition had more to do with the problem than anything else. The guy’s lazy, but talks a good game when the bosses are around. He’s always got some excuse about currents and storms and constraints from environmentalists ‘cause they don’t want us inadvertently catching dolphins and whatnot.”
“Hmm,” I nodded slowly, “and since Danny always had an exemplary record with the environmentalists and responded favorably to their concerns, he didn’t push the issue with Umberto directly.”
“It wasn’t for lack of trying, ma’am,” Shaw said. “I asked him once if he ever wondered why the smaller ships never had any problems avoiding dolphins.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Not to me, but Umberto sure gave me the cold shoulder for a couple of months after that.”
“You said The Celeste is heading back out to sea this week. Does that mean that Captain Umberto is hanging around town?” Devlin asked.
“Umberto Gutierrez,” Shaw corrected our assumption that Umberto was a surname. “And yeah, I guess he’s probably hanging out in his pad over at the casino.”
“He keeps a residence at the Island Hotel Resort and Casino?”
“Sure does ma’am. A whole lot of Danny’s employees live in the tower. ‘Course the penthouse belongs to Danny and Ms. Celeste, but there’s a residential floor below that.”
“How far below?”
“Few floors, I guess. Does that matter?”
“Probably not,” I said, “but thanks for the information, Mr. Shaw. If we could see those records we requested now, along with the maps Captain Gutierrez filed for each of his trips out to sea, I’d appreciate it.”
When we were sequestered in an isolated conference room, Dev spoke. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Not sure. I feel like we just took a huge leap in the right direction today.”
“We’re gonna find that the fuel consumption of The Celeste doesn’t jibe with the maps Umberto filed, aren’t we?”
“I suspect we will. I think that it’s pretty obvious that the good captain was using Danny’s ship to bring cargo of a different kind into Darkwater Bay. Shaw said he returned from the Pacific last Tuesday. On Wednesday night, Analynn Villanueva’s body washed up on shore.”
“You think she came into town on that ship, don’t you?”
“What I’d love is to have a forensic team comb every inch of it looking for evidence. We don’t have probable cause at this point.”
Devlin and I spent the rest of the morning and half the afternoon combing through fuel records and maps of various excursions. Shaw came in and answered more questions we had about Datello’s trawlers, how much fuel they used in general, what some of the variances we noticed might mean. According to him, it could’ve been something as benign as rough seas or detouring to avoid bad weather.
I wasn’t convinced. When we compared the records of Datello’s smaller ships to those from The Celeste it was pretty obvious that the variances had become the norm with the company’s largest ship.
“Do you think it’s enough?” Dev asked while we drove from Hennessey Island back to my home in Beach Cliffs.
“Of course it isn’t,” I snorted. “Zack would laugh us both out of his office if we took what little we’ve got to him now and asked for a warrant to search that ship. I suspect that we’ll find what we need when we start talking to women. Who knows? Maybe they’ll identify The Celeste as the vehicle that brought them into Darkwater Bay in bondage.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Hey,” I reached over the console and bumped his deltoid with a fist. “You want to stay for dinner? I can change afterward and we can head over to Mercer Boulevard from here.”
“Ah, I’m pretty sure that’s a bad idea, Helen.”
“Why?”
“Because of what happened yesterday when Johnny shared the good news. I didn’t react very well. I’m pretty sure I’m the last guy he wants to see hanging out at the house as a dinner guest.”
The embers of temper smoldered. “He needs to get used to the fact that you’re my friend and that it’s not going to change.”
“I’
m sure I’d feel the same way if our roles were reversed, Helen. I wouldn’t want some guy hanging around, especially if I knew he had… well, harbored some intense feelings.”
“Devlin –”
“I’ll have Crevan come pick me up. It’s no big deal really.”
“Then I’ll ask Crevan to stay for dinner too. It’s not like it’d be you, me and Johnny anyway. David Levine is staying with us too.”
“If Crevan comes and stays for dinner, I will too. I’d prefer not dining on my ripped off hand anytime soon, if it’s all the same.”
“Besides, Johnny isn’t even going to be here tonight. He told me that he’s going to be holed up out at OSI working on this other thing Collangelo wants him resolving.”
“The Sanderfield thing?”
“How much do you know about him, Devlin?”
“Who, Terrell Sanderfield?”
“Yeah. You told me a few months ago that he was courted pretty hard by Datello to challenge Joe in the next election. I know nothing about him beyond the smarmy campaign ads on television.”
“He’s older, close to sixty at least, a real career politician. I think he used to practice law, though rumor has it that his professional goal was always to do something as a stepping stone into politics. He’s been a state senator for close to 30 years, I guess.”
“Republican?”
“Obviously. Although I guess he could challenge Joe on the party ticket for the nomination. It’s pretty rare for an incumbent governor to lose a primary that way out here. In fact, I don’t think it’s happened in my lifetime.”
“And he represents traditional Republican lip service to smaller government?”
“In theory,” Dev grinned. “None of them practice what they preach. Joe on the other hand, his platform was always accountability. I suppose that’s why the story in the paper this morning stung so hard.”
“You saw it?”
“Andy faxed it to me. He does that from time to time. Says it’s his God given duty to keep me abreast of events in the real world.”
“Collangelo was livid with Johnny yesterday. For a moment, I thought he might fire him.”
“That would’ve been a huge mistake,” Devlin said. “Would’ve fed right into Sanderfield’s allegations that something sneaky happened behind the taxpayer’s backs. I think Collangelo handled it perfectly.”
I gnawed the inside of my cheek. “If Collangelo shuts OSI down because of political pressure, it wouldn’t be very good for a lot of people that I love. Crevan, Chris, Johnny… you.”
Eyes pierced me from the side. “I think we’d all manage, Helen. We’d probably be absorbed by the state police. Except maybe Johnny. I’m not sure he’d want to stick around if they shut down OSI. How do you go from running everything to being a foot soldier again?”
“Not easily. At least he’s got his security business to fall back on.”
“Do you think Sanderfield’s pressure will be the end of OSI?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Even if Joe is reelected, the suggestion was made that Johnny has abused fiscal resources. It might be harder to get funding for OSI during the next budgetary session. If Sanderfield wins, forget it. Johnny and everything he did at OSI will be history.”
“Guess we need a big win for more reasons than justice this time,” Dev said.
“I can’t think about it that way. No matter what happens, the victims in this case have to be my sole motivation. The rest of it is some distant future, a distraction we can’t afford right now.”
Flicking the turn signal, I waited for the gate to open on my property. “Tonight, we might get the break we really need to confirm that this is more than me being paranoid or Florence Payette having something a little bit off in her head.”
“I think you’re on the right track, Helen. And I’m not just saying that because of how I feel about you personally.”
“Someone postulated that I could suggest you roll naked through hot coals and you’d think it was a good plan.”
Cautiously, he reached for my hand. “That’s ridiculous, Helen.”
“I know.”
“But I love you too,” he said softly. “My friend.”
Chapter 35
David met us at the garage door. “You’re home. You just missed Johnny. He’s headed back out to OSI. Asked me to remind you that he won’t be here until late tonight.”
“I remember,” I said. “How did it go with Sarah Holmes?”
He shrugged. “Her attorney was present while we talked to her.”
“Curtis Marcel?”
Devlin cursed under his breath.
“No, she’s got her own representation through legal aid.” He glanced at Devlin. “Detective Mackenzie, it’s good to see you again. What say we come inside and exchange stories of our progress over coffee?”
“That sounds fantastic,” I said. We skipped lunch and my stomach was rumbling.
David grinned. “That husband of yours was right, I take it. He said you probably worked straight through lunch today. I know you didn’t have breakfast.”
No, just the ginger ale and soda crackers Johnny had Joe’s staff deliver to the guest room before we left Montgomery this morning.
“He stopped and picked up something he said you call fat, sugar and caffeine in a cup. Cinnamon something or other, and an enormous cinnamon roll.”
Not-so-inexplicable tears sprang to my eyes at the small gesture from Johnny. “I’ll have to call and thank him later.”
Over our coffee and my confection, Devlin filled in the blanks for David regarding our day, and the unusual information we had about Ms. Gerard’s behavior.
“Interesting,” he said. “Given her former employer’s history with the police, it would be wise not to jump to conclusions over this. It might be that she’s worried that she’s next in your crosshairs, Helen. You’re a formidable opponent. Even if she’s done nothing wrong, that wouldn’t ease her paranoia, I’m afraid.”
“Mmm,” I nodded. “I considered that she might be feeling guilty by association. The thing is, I can’t understand why she’d feel that way. Johnny says that Datello kept his businesses squeaky clean, particularly after the brush with Salvatore Masconi sneaking in the back door with a well concealed criminal history. If anything, Datello responded with hyper vigilance. I can’t remember who told me the story, probably Tony Briscoe, but Masconi brought a bunch of outsiders into the casino for the top management positions. After his disappearance, Datello cleaned house and hired local people to fill the spots.”
“And Gerard is one of them,” Devlin said. “Born and raised right here.”
I turned to David. “How did the Holmes interview go?”
“She’s sticking to her story, and unfortunately, her alibi is ironclad, Helen. She was tending to the children of another family the night that Sofia Datello arrived in Montgomery. She says that she and Mrs. Sherman had become acquaintances during Sherman’s pregnancy, that she was hired from the get-go to be the nanny once the child was born.”
“Yet we have no evidence that this child was more than a prosthetic that Sherman wore for several months,” I shook my head, sucked on the straw in my cup.
“If she did wear one, I didn’t find it at the house,” Dev said.
“Of course you wouldn’t have,” David postulated his theory on Melissa Sherman. “She’s very crafty, that one. Were you paying attention to her in court this morning, Helen?”
“I was more focused on that geriatric judge, praying that he wouldn’t take pity on the lovely young widow.”
“Judge Hathaway was far more shrewd than you give him credit for,” David chuckled. “He saw exactly what I did. A woman with very cold eyes playing the role of the aggrieved, wrongly-accused widow. She cried a bucket, or so she’d have had the court believe, into a very dry handkerchief by the end of the arraignment.”
“So what about Florence’s claim that Holmes kept an eye on her in Darkwater while she was working for the pa
st month or so?”
“Holmes backed up the story. Says she’s got the pay stubs to prove it was legal too. Apparently, Mrs. Sherman called her, distraught after Eugene’s untimely death from old age and said she couldn’t deal with having Sherman’s favorite ancient employee hanging around. She paid Holmes to camp out and look after a woman who she claims Sherman described as borderline retarded.”
“She’s a registered nurse, for heaven’s sake. She’s hardly developmentally disabled.”
“Oh, I know that, Helen. And Holmes said that while she found Payette to be a little socially different, perhaps even emotionally stunted, she found nothing in her behavior that indicated she was incapable of caring for herself. Her exact words were that Flo is an excellent cook. Still, it was easy money, so she stayed on the job until another gig brought her back to Montgomery a few days before the infant abduction. Then she got a frantic call from Sherman the night the Datello baby disappeared.”
“And Sherman said what exactly?” Dev asked.
“That she was coming home with the baby earlier than anticipated and would need Holmes at the house first thing in the morning,” David said.
“Did you believe her, David?”
“I did,” he nodded. “I believed every word she said. I know there were concerns because Sherman did in fact want to keep Florence out of Montgomery after the old man croaked in his sleep. Have we considered why that might’ve been?”
“Because maybe Florence wouldn’t have felt owned anymore if she knew Eugene was gone,” I slurped the last of my cinnamon latte out of the cup.
“He brought you two,” David said. “Made me promise that you’d drink both of them.”
I watched him retrieve the second from the refrigerator and drop it in front of me on the table. “Drink it. I’ve considered your theory on why Sherman wouldn’t want Payette around.”
“You disagree?”
“I think it was sarcasm peppered with an unhealthy sprinkling of frustration,” David said. “Let’s forget about who decided to steal the Datello baby for a moment, as it’s really not germane to the discussion in this context. Johnny showed me Florence’s employment record. Employee of the quarter, of the year on more than one occasion. People love her. Patients, visitors, her peers. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re all reeling in the aftermath of what Florence did last week.”
