“I’m Igor Verkovich,” the man said to Marla. He came from behind the counter to shake their hands. “Sorry, Lieutenant, I should have recognized you. But when people are out of context, you know how it goes. I don’t have the greatest memory.”
“Thanks for seeing us,” Vail said.
“No problem. Have you found my nephew’s killer?”
“We’re following some good leads. I have a few additional questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Shoot.”
Vail glanced at Marla. “We understand Yani was friends with Cutter Corrigan. Do you know how they met?”
“That’s the hairstylist fellow, right?” At Vail’s nod, he continued. “Those two got right close, if you get my drift. Didn’t seem like they’d ever see eye to eye, coming from opposite poles like they did.”
Marla pretended to examine a bottle of grapefruit wine while listening intently. This was Vail’s ball game. She’d step in to play if intuition guided her to do so.
Vail hung his thumbs off his belt. “Cutter said Yani became his client, and that’s when they first met each other.”
“Not true. Come out here with me a moment. You’ll understand better if I show you what we have.” He shuffled to a rear exit, walking with a slight limp. Pushing open the screen door, he led them outside into the bright afternoon sunshine. Rows of orange trees stretched into the distance.
“I didn’t realize your property extended so far back,” Marla commented. “You actually grow your own fruit for the winery.” She’d been at another Florida winery in St. Petersburg that had merely been a building selling fruit wines.
His face crinkled into a smile. “We grow about a dozen different types of trees. The usual citrus, plus coconut, lychee, and jackfruit varieties. Even so, my business barely puts a dent in the state’s citrus industry.”
“What was your nephew’s share?” Vail inquired, shading his craggy face from the sun.
“Our daddies started up this place. They owned equal shares. When Uncle Regus died, Yani got his half.”
“Who inherits from him?” Vail asked, although Marla suspected he knew the answer.
“My sons. Yani was an only child, and you know he favored other men.” Igor gave an embarrassed cough. “My boys help me run the orchard. I do the wines, and they work the groves. We sell a good bit of our produce. That brings me back to where Yani met Cutter. They were at a public hearing for the citrus canker eradication program. My nephew is…was a spokesman for the government. His lab is contracted for testing plant specimens. Cutter led the opposition, a group of homeowners who’ve filed lawsuits to stop the program.”
Vail kicked up dust as he strode along a dirt path to examine a Valencia tree. Having shed most of the ripe fruit, it had sprouted blossoms that sweetened the air with a honeyed fragrance. “What’s your take on the situation?”
“I’ll support anything that will prevent the spread of disease,” the senior Verkovich replied. “If it gets worse, canker will be disastrous for citrus growers. You’re talking about a nine-billion-dollar industry. I don’t want to lose my grove, but I’ll do what’s necessary.”
“You’re willing to see your trees destroyed?” Marla asked in surprise.
He chuckled. “Some of my pals are switching to freshwater-shrimp farming. We’ve had declining citrus prices for the last ten years. Between the loss of income and the tree diseases, many of us are thinking about changing crops. We’re small potatoes compared to the big companies.”
“Try tilapia,” Marla murmured. “I can put you in touch with a tilapia fish farmer if you want to learn more about it.” The way Reverend Jeremiah Dooley liked to lecture, he’d be happy to set Igor up in the business. Marla and Vail had toured his fish farm near Tarpon Springs not long ago.
“So your nephew favored cutting down people’s backyard trees?” Vail asked, to verify the victim’s position.
Igor jabbed a finger in the air. “He sure did. That rule about cutting down healthy trees within nineteen hundred feet of infected ones may be unpopular, but it’s effective.”
“You may be right, but I don’t agree with the government’s tactics,” Vail said. “I came home from work one day, and all my citrus trees were cut down. I couldn’t go into the backyard for some time. It looked like a desert.” Turning to Marla, he said, “Wouldn’t you object if workers trespassed on your property, and destroyed your trees without permission?” Then to Igor, “If that wasn’t bad enough, they trampled my grass and put toxic chemicals on the stumps.”
“They’re supposed to follow proper procedures,” Igor countered. “Survey crews come out to inspect your lawn. They usually knock on your door or leave a notice. When they find a questionable tree, they paint a white mark on it. A pathology crew comes next to determine if the disease is present. If the trees are infected, the plant pathologist paints a red X on them. Then homeowners receive a final order before control crews return to remove the trees. You should have had plenty of warning.”
“My trees were healthy. The tree that was infected was way down the end of the block. I know the signs: small, round lesions on the fruit, twigs, and leaves. The lesions are surrounded by an oily margin and a yellow ring. My trees didn’t have any of those symptoms. Who decided it was necessary to cut down adjacent trees in the first place?” Vail queried.
“I reckon government studies were done.”
“Oh yeah? What studies? Seems to me this is the basis for those lawsuits against the government. I can understand the need to remove diseased trees, but not healthy ones just because of some arbitrary decree made up years ago.”
Igor hunched his shoulders. “There is no cure or other method of prevention.”
“How about chemical sprays?”
“They’ll kill surface bacteria, but they don’t penetrate to the colonies. Removal and burning of infected and adjacent trees is the only effective means of control.”
“What a shame,” Marla said with a sad shake of her head. “It’s similar to what happened to our coconut trees back in the seventies.”
“If canker keeps going north,” Igor told her, “scores of groves will be in danger of getting wiped out. The disease causes trees to weaken, lose their leaves, and drop fruit prematurely. The crop is no good.”
“How does it spread?” she asked. “I’ve read that canker is a bacterial disease that thrives in warm, moist conditions. But how does it go from yard to yard?”
“The bacteria live in crevices in the bark.” Igor’s eyes glowed brightly. “Wind, rain, insects, birds, and people with contaminated clothing and tools can spread it across short distances. It crosses larger areas when infected plants, seedlings, and fruit are moved. That’s why we have regulations about transporting citrus fruit out of state.”
“How about the folks who come into my yard from a neighbor who’s got a diseased tree?” Vail asked.
“Inspectors are supposed to disinfect themselves and their tools before moving on to the next property or even the next tree.”
“But they don’t always do it. I read in the newspaper that workers were videotaped walking from yard to yard, and they failed to spray disinfectant on their shoes.”
Igor shrugged. “An isolated case.”
Marla glanced at Vail, searching for a way to bring their conversation back to Cutter. The detective shot her a narrowed glance in return. Igor was more than willing to talk, just not on the subject they wanted. Time was a-wasting, and they needed answers.
“How did the disease get started?” she asked, unable to think of any direct questions regarding the murder.
“Canker has been around since Nineteen ten,” Igor said, signaling for them to follow him back inside. “It’s gone through several eradication programs, but it keeps popping up. Nearly two million trees statewide have been destroyed so far. We have to stop it now, but your average homeowner won’t cooperate.”
“If you’re the homeowner, your fruit trees mean a lot to you,” Vail stated.
<
br /> “That’s a selfish attitude. You’re risking the livelihood of Florida for a few backyard trees. You’re not seeing the whole picture.”
“All I see is my property being destroyed without regard to my rights as a citizen,” Vail retorted, squaring his shoulders. “I can see why Cutter would oppose your nephew.”
Marla gave a sigh of relief when they entered the air-conditioned shop. Feeling hot and sweaty, she propped herself directly under a vent to get a cool blast. Vail needed to keep his cool, too, she realized. Or was he being purposefully contentious to provoke Igor?
“Yani understood the need to protect our industry,” Igor said, standing rigidly behind the counter as though it were a barrier separating opposing sides of the issue. “What’s a few orange trees compared to a business that provides nearly ninety thousand jobs? People like you just don’t understand the stakes involved.”
“Maybe your nephew was merely trying to protect his interest in this grove,” Vail suggested, a sly gleam in his eye. “No wonder he didn’t want canker to progress north. It might wipe out his extra source of income if you lost your trees.”
“He had bigger concerns at heart. That’s why I can’t fathom how Yani and that hairdresser ever got together in a personal way. Cutter led the homeowners’ lawsuits against the state. His actions blocked the work crews from doing their job. He didn’t realize the damage he caused to the industry. To Florida’s welfare. Yani was only trying to preserve our state’s valuable citrus groves.”
“How far did Cutter go in his efforts?”
Igor leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “My nephew was murdered, Lieutenant. You figure it out.”
Chapter Thirteen
“So Igor believes Cutter killed his nephew,” Marla said to Vail during the drive home.
The detective raised his bushy eyebrows. “The first time I interviewed him, Igor said things hadn’t been going well between Cutter and Yani. He didn’t supply details, because Yani hadn’t said much about it.”
“It could’ve had nothing to do with the citrus canker issue.” She shifted restlessly in her seat. Her leg was cramping from sitting too long.
“It could have had everything to do with Goat interfering in their relationship,” Vail offered.
“You always come back to Goat. Did you ever find the murder weapon?”
“Not yet.”
“Maybe you should broaden your search. I still think my classmates are involved. Things might not be as simple as they seem.”
“We’ll see.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “Do me a favor, and refrain from doing anything stupid on your own to get information. This is my case, and when I need your help, I’ll ask for it. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk again.”
Like I’m going to listen, pal. You should know me by now. She wouldn’t be dumb enough to return to the ranch alone, but another interview with Cutter was in order. He couldn’t do anything bad to her if she showed up at his salon.
Her efforts to carry on the investigation during the rest of the week were frustrated by an overloaded work schedule and personal business. Tally wanted to meet her for dinner; Nicole invited her to a barbecue at her boyfriend’s house; and Anita reminded her of family obligations.
“Don’t forget the Passover seder is next Thursday at Cynthia’s house,” Ma said during a telephone conversation. “What are you bringing? I think we’re having about thirty people.”
“I’m making the Haroset and hard-boiled eggs. What about you?” Marla said, sitting at home in her kitchen.
“I’m cooking brisket and farfel. Have you gone shopping yet? I could give you a box of matzos.”
“I’ve been too busy to do anything.” She’d barely had time to catch her breath since returning from the trip with Vail on Monday.
Anita clucked her tongue. “You never told me the results of your excursion with the detective.”
“We found the murdered man’s car. Goat had driven it to his sister’s house in Mount Dora. Jenny told us about Goat’s argument with Hector, one of our other neighbors, but it doesn’t seem important. The next morning, we drove to Siesta Key. We were eating lunch in a restaurant, and I noticed Goat waving from the entrance. He appeared to be trying to catch my attention. All of a sudden, he looked scared, and then he took off. Vail chased him. Another guy was on Goat’s tail, presumably whoever had spooked him. Poor man. All he wants is a farm up north, but he keeps following the wrong path to get money.”
“Those wrong means could get him killed, and you too. If you ask me, you should focus your mind on something else, such as a good man. Did you sleep with the detective?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is if you’re going to lead Barry on. Roger will be upset if you ditch his son. Choose one or the other, but make up your mind.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll see you next week. Bye.” Clenching her teeth, she hung up.
The prospect of seeing her relatives on Passover did little to lighten her mood. When Friday evening arrived, she hadn’t heard from either of her two beaux. She’d declined her mother’s offer to attend services, unable to tolerate Roger’s obnoxious presence. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of phoning Vail to see if he were free, but decided it was better to cool things off between them for a while. She missed Brianna, though. It was odd how they’d started off with such a stormy liaison, and now she felt more warmth from the daughter than from the father. The sturdiest relationships often start on rocky ground and build onto a solid foundation, Anita had once told her.
So you ‘re right about one thing, Ma.
Brie was busy this weekend anyway. She’d been invited to two bat mitzvahs and had called Marla to discuss appropriate gifts. Their conversation had gone on to include clothing options, makeup, and advice on dealing with school pressures.
Drifting into her office, Marla settled in for a night of paperwork. She should be glad to be alone for a change but felt strangely bereft. Focusing on her correspondence, she picked up a form for her favorite charity when an idea flashed through her mind. Here was the perfect excuse to visit Cutter Corrigan.
Cutter was cleaning his electric shaver when she walked into his salon late Saturday afternoon. Fortunately, she’d finished with her last client in enough time to dash to his place before it closed. Even luckier, she’d caught him between customers. Marla winked at Jax, busy with a blow-out, on her way to Cutter’s chair.
Noticing her, Cutter scowled. “What are you doing here?”
She plastered a sweet smile on her face. “Hey, I thought you’d be happy to see me again. Don’t look so sour. I’m here for good reason.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I work for the Child Drowning Prevention Coalition. We’re collecting items for a silent auction at our spring luncheon. Would you like to donate a gift certificate? It’ll get your name in our program book as a contributor. Free publicity,” she added as an incentive.
Putting down the razor, he gestured to her, an evil grin on his face. “Come into the back with me. I’ll write you a check for your organization.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe to be alone with you.” She spoke in a teasing tone for the sake of his staff but noticed an answering gleam in Cutter’s eyes. Jimbo must have told Evan and Cutter about the intruder on the ranch. Shortly after that incident came her car accident. Was one of them responsible?
“I heard you were in an auto accident,” Cutter said as though reading her mind. “That’s what happens to people who ask questions in the wrong places.”
“A white car cut me off. You wouldn’t happen to know who owns one, would you?”
He smirked. “A lot of people own white cars in Florida, but you didn’t come here to ask me about that.” Signaling to another stylist doing a layered cut, he shouted, “Bring it up another inch in the back, Heather. You’ll give her more lift.” His scornful glance snagged Marla. “These peo
ple know nothing when they come out of school. They must look to a masterful designer such as myself for guidance.”
“But not for modesty,” Marla murmured, half under her breath. Loudly, she said, “I hoped you could help me on another issue. I’ve had plant inspectors come out to my yard. They put a white mark on my orange trees. My neighbor Hector said he met you at a Department of Agriculture workshop where you represented homeowners’ rights.”
“That mark doesn’t mean your trees will be cut down. A plant pathologist has to examine them first.”
Marla sank into the unoccupied chair at the next station, amid pungent aromas from sprays and chemical solutions. Farther down the room, a manicurist clipped her own fingernails with audible snaps. Whirring blow-dryers competed for noise with radio music and background chatter. The sounds and scents of home, she thought, intending to throw Cutter off guard before asking him more pointed questions.
“I thought they’d stopped cutting down healthy trees,” she said, relieved when Cutter didn’t insist on getting her alone. “Aren’t things tied up in the court system?”
“It’s an on-again, off-again situation,” Cutter explained, giving her an assessing look.
“Tell me about it.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t want my trees cut down if I have any say in it.”
A play of emotions crossed his face, as though he were debating how much to reveal about his involvement. “The problem is the nineteen-hundred-foot rule. The State Department of Agriculture can’t justify destroying healthy trees just because they’re within a certain radius of an infected one. They’ve never proven the science behind the ruling, nor have they done cost studies. Now they’re repressing our rights further by issuing countywide search warrants.”
“How did that become an issue?”
“We filed suit in Broward Circuit Court challenging the right of workers to enter our properties without a search warrant. There’s no justification; citrus canker doesn’t threaten public health or welfare. Unfortunately, along with a bill that passed the legislature regarding the nineteen-hundred-foot rule, judges were authorized to issue blanket search warrants for an entire county. Now law officers and other authorities may be able to search places without getting a warrant for a specific address.”
Highlights to Heaven Page 14
