Killers, Bikers & Freaks: A Walt Asher Florida Thriller (The Walt Asher Thriller Series Book 1)

by Andrew Allan

  Something slithered fast under the leaves around my feet. A rope loop cinched around my ankles and yanked me flat onto the ground then hoisted me into the air where I dangled and swung.

  DG’s voice: “Trespassers get shot!”

  A gunshot ripped right past me and splintered a nearby tree.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “HEY, IT’S ME! Walt!”

  “Who?”

  “Walt! From down the river.”

  DG appeared around the grill, a rifle in his hand. He looked ready to kill.

  The rope creaked as it swung me in a slow circle. My cheeks and jowls sagged down, my arms dangled, and my soggy shorts dripped cold water into my face. Everything was upside down.

  DG raised his gun and took aim.

  “No!”

  Gunshot. The rope shredded and I dropped hard to the ground. This night was taking its toll.

  As DG walked down the slope in my direction, I felt along the ground for my belongings and realized I didn’t have any of them – no keys, no wallet, no cell phone. They were all back at the house. Which meant the attackers could have taken them. That was bad news.

  The rifle barrel pressed against my nose. I stopped moving

  “You know I don’t like people sneaking up on my place, Walt.”

  “Hello, DG.”

  Up at the house, on the porch. DG brought me a plate of barbecued meat slathered in his legendary special sauce. He handed me a cold beer and sat down. After guzzling his beer, which was still attached to the six-pack, he belched then looked at me through eyes that were either watering from the grill smoke or copious amounts of weed. Or, both. I couldn’t tell.

  “Chew that up then let me know why I caught you sneaking up to my property,” he said.

  “I thought you said I was welcome anytime.”

  “Only through the front door. You know I don’t cotton to sneaking around.”

  I did know that. Because all signs point to what DG does for a living as being a criminal enterprise. I was never sure what specific thing or things he dealt, bought, and sold. Probably a little of everything or a lot of everything.

  His house was always guarded. The only employees were bikers, most hardened by prison. Draw your own conclusion. I did know that whatever illegal or dangerous enterprises DG dabbled in, it didn’t prevent him from living with carefree ease. That’s because his business was buttoned up. And, because he had all kinds of protection.

  I’ll tell you why. From a Governor to gutter dwellers, elite business enterprises to down and dirty dealings, the Gary family sprawled wide across Florida and deep into its history books. You’ve heard of the good ole boy network? For the most part, that was DG’s family. He had more connections than a telephone exchange. In every industry, in every county, at every level. He did whatever he wanted to do and made enough money to spend most of his time playing. Despite his lowdown appearance, I couldn’t begin to imagine how wealthy he was.

  “Look, people were chasing me. I didn't have any other option. Besides, the back door is like the front door on the river. And, you come into mine with a belch instead of a knock every time,” I said.

  He belched. Point taken.

  “Look, I wasn’t sneaking up. I came here for help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “The kind that keeps me from getting killed.”

  “What? Which customer did you piss off?”

  “Funny. Look, you know Ken Kerenz died the other day, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I discovered his body being eaten by gators, which seemed odd to me.”

  “Gators eat,” he said.

  “But, they don’t attack unless you provoke. Ken was afraid of them. He was all about protecting nature. And, too fit not to be able to get away.

  “Once they clamp on...”

  “If they catch you. It just vibed strange. Especially because I found a strange vial of liquid on his lawn, not far from where Ken was being eaten. So, I told the Sheriff, talked to a few people. Next thing I know I was attacked in my house.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight. Forty minutes ago. Two guys, one tried to slice my throat then filet me with a vicious looking blade. I got away and floated down the river to get here.”

  “And, you didn’t get chomped. I’m impressed.”

  “Me, too.”

  He sat there looking perplexed. I presumed he was cycling through his mental Rolodex of thugs, degenerates, and hit men to see who fit my description. There was no eureka moment.

  “So, how can I help?” he said.

  I finished the food and set my plate down.

  “That was good, thank you. I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. This place is guarded. I figured they wouldn’t get me here.”

  “And, you have no idea who they are.”

  “None. Could be one of Ken’s enemies. Someone he used his activism against. But, I have no clue why they’d come after me.”

  “Bet your ass it’s murder if they’re showing up trying to kill you.”

  “But, I don’t have any proof. It’s been written off as a gator attack.”

  “Bullshit. Someone didn’t like you poking around.”

  “But...who? It’s not like I’m a reporter or, you know, a detective.”

  We looked at each other thinking the same thing.

  “The Sheriff?” he said.

  “What? No.”

  “Sheriff Baker’s a dirty motherfucker. I can prove that.”

  “But, wait. Why Ken?”

  “Maybe he was up to something. That’s usually the case.”

  “He was an activist,” I said. The circumstances were moving into areas I couldn’t fathom.

  “He had enemies you said.”

  “But, the gators.”

  DG leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “Walt, you’re not putting the pieces together. Whatever Ken had going on, it pissed someone off. And, if that someone has the right connections he could have Sheriff Baker take care of a few matters. That Sheriff can be bought. I’ve done it.”

  My mind reeled with questions and possibilities. “The vial?” I said.

  “You gave it to the Sheriff?” said DG. I nodded.

  “He said it was pesticide,” I said.

  “You may have handed over the only piece of evidence he overlooked.”

  I felt like an idiot.

  DG’s face pinched with uncertainty. “Only thing I don’t know is why they’d kill you if they had all the evidence.”

  Pieces clicked together. “My house was broken into. While I was in Melbourne,” I said. “They were looking for something.”

  “They think you still have evidence. Because you were poking around.”

  “They’re not taking any chances, are they?”

  He shook his head and looked grave. “You in some trouble, boy.”

  My body tingled with new fear. If Sheriff Baker was tied in with the attackers I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t even stay in the area. Plus, I had no proof to convince anyone this was real.

  DG interrupted my accelerating thoughts. “I’d strongly suggest you let me hide you for a while. Underground. As long as necessary,” he said.

  “You can do that?”

  “I have guys I’ve kept hidden for ten years.”

  “Do they ever go outside?”

  “They live normal lives where their enemies won’t find them.”

  “I think giving me a place for the night will do,” I said.

  “Done. Starlene will set you up,” he said, referring to his newly acquired nineteen year-old wife with size humongous breasts. Don’t judge, you’d notice, too.

  “Thanks. I also need to get back to my house. They may still be there. But, I need to get my computer and phone, car, keys, and wallet.”

  “They probably took ‘em. That’s what we’d do.”

  I gave him a curious look.

  “Don’t ask,” he said.

  “Okay, I won’
t.”

  “We can go over and check the place out for you first.”

  “That’d be great. I also was wondering if, um...”

  “Yes, I’ll reach out to my connections to see if we can find out who might be doing someone’s dirty work. What the Sheriff might be up to.”

  I was somewhat relieved.

  “Let’s go get your stuff,” he said and got up. I followed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I RODE TO the house with DG in his redneck Rolls – a jacked up, mud-covered camouflage pickup truck complete with gun rack, fishing pole rack, dog cages, and coolers. He held me back as I started to climb out.

  “Let them scout it first.”

  He was referring to his pack of bikers who had come along in case of any trouble. They parked their bikes on the lawn and entered the house. No key required - the front door had been left open. A few moments later they came out, coast clear.

  I went in the house and couldn’t believe the amount of damage. A huge hole was knocked in the drywall where we had fought. Glass was broken and scattered across the tile floor. Chairs were turned over. It took me a minute to realize not all of the damage was caused by the scuffle – they had torn the place apart looking for something. They still thought I had evidence proving Ken’s death was murder. It gave me the willies.

  “I don’t want to stick around here. Give me five minutes,” I said.

  DG nodded to me, then signaled his boys. They scattered to other parts of the house while I walked into my writing office. Laptop gone. Phone gone. Wallet here, but turned out. My car keys were hanging on the wall. Two out of three ain’t bad, but one out of four ain’t good. I grabbed the keys and did a quick pass through the house, closing windows, locking doors, turning down the air.

  DG and crew were waiting for me out on the lawn. I held up my keys to show I’d found them. When I made it over to them, DG held up something small, black, and wired.

  “What’s that?”

  “A detonator. Your house was wired to explode,” he said.

  Chills.

  “Should be safe in a few. They’re dismantling some C4 now.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s a lot of damage inside. If you can cover a basic hourly wage, I can have some guys start fixing the walls tonight. They can also keep their eyes open for anyone lurking around. Some protection. You good with that or are you going to still be a cheap bastard when you have ass-saving to worry about?”

  “Yes, do it,” I said. “But, I’m not staying here.”

  “Going to Gainesville or Clearwater? By the way, how is lovely Ilsa?”

  “Gainesville. And, she’s good.”

  “My boys said she treated them right fine at her bar the other week.”

  “If anyone can handle that rowdy bunch, it’s her.”

  He flashed a smile, but grew serious again.

  “Walt, these guys aren’t messing around. I really think you should let me hide you. Least, 'til I can check my grapevine, see what’s up,” he said.

  It was hard to refuse DG.

  “I’m grateful, DG. Really. But, I’m not ready to hide yet.”

  He nodded and accepted it. “Keep me posted. I can have them killed, too.” He was serious.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said.

  I patted his back and walked over to my car. As I did, I saw a biker pull a tool belt and tools from his saddlebag. Two other bikers stood guard on the front porch. I realized that dangerous biker gangs are like lawyers. So much better to have them looking out for you than coming after you. Good to have friends like DG, too. Just in case.

  Whoever turned over my house and riffled through my wallet would now know my Clearwater address. That made Gainesville the safe destination. I hit the road and headed that way, relieved to be leaving the river.

  On the drive, I realized Gainesville might not be as safe as I thought. With my phone missing, that meant whoever was out to get me also had a list of all my contacts. They could check my text messages and see that Ilsa was the person I text the most, then find her number and address in the ‘contacts’ app. They could be waiting for me there. They could be going after Ilsa at that moment.

  I drove faster.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I FOUND ILSA serving up drinks at Betty’s Bomb Shelter, her fifties-themed joint named after her mom and built in one of those arch top sheet metal buildings. It had been an electrical supply business for forty-five years before Ilsa took over. I grabbed a stool at the end of the bar and waited for her to walk my way. She was surprised but pleased to see me.

  “I didn’t expect to see you,” she said leaning in for a kiss. “Explain yourself.”

  “Can we talk in your office?” I said. The concern on my face appeared on hers. She nodded and we walked to the back of the bar.

  We sat on the couch in her office. She looked at me, anxious for me to elaborate.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Two things. One, when I got back to my place after Melbourne I found signs that someone had been there. I think they were looking for something,” I said.

  She sat up and demanded an answer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want you to worry. But, I’m sure now.”

  She looked very worried. “That’s the first thing?”

  I nodded. “The second is this...” I lifted my neck and showed her where the garrote had cut the skin on my neck.

  She gasped and covered her mouth in shock.

  “I was attacked. At home. Earlier tonight. I barely escaped. I had to float down river to DG’s.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She leaned in to hug me; grateful I was in one piece. I hugged back. When we released a moment later, she looked me over like a mother caring for her child.

  “I don’t want you going back there,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not. And, DG has a couple of his guys guarding the place.”

  Her expression grew stern. “You don’t think this was because you were...”

  “I think that’s exactly why.”

  “Oh, Walt! This is why you should mind your own business!”

  She wringed her hands. But, not in a helpless way. More like she wanted payback.

  “Well, they’ve made it my business,” I said. “So now, I have to figure out what’s going on. Who’s after me and why.”

  She grabbed my wrists. “No, you don’t! We are going to Europe. We will stay with my parents until this goes away. I do not want you getting hurt.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. But, the problem won’t go away. DG’s asking around, so we’ll see what comes out of that. In the meantime, I’d like to stay up here with you.” I smiled trying to make like it was all for the better.

  “Of course, you can stay. But, I don’t think you are up for such a fight.”

  Despite the previous evening’s exhaustive events, I woke by nine, ready to tighten up my backstroke. I needed a new phone, new computer, and access to money. I called the bank first to cancel my old cards and have a new one sent to Ilsa’s. In the meantime, I’d have to borrow some cash from her. She always kept an emergency stash around the house. I took half. Should last me for a while. I also borrowed her phone. I texted DG her number and let him know that was the best way to reach me.

  I wasn’t in the mood to cook so I stepped out to get breakfast at a nearby greasy spoon, The Sugarcreek, known for consistently good grits. While waiting for my food, I read a newspaper another diner had left behind. It made me wonder how Florida must appear to the out of state observer.

  Only the most sensational Florida headlines captivate the nation (and parts beyond) with a new type of freakishness -Alligator humpers, triple-breasted wannabe starlets, and crazy preachers threatening to burn a Koran and bring about the only thing that Florida was missing, a jihad. But, the everyday, non-viral Florida newspaper stories read more like a catalog of cr
imes - government corruption, corporate malfeasance, white-collar embezzlement, drug mayhem, and murder. The recent turn of events made me feel like I was being sucked into that perilous world. I was determined not to end up as a morbid headline.

  Like Nadine Evers, the woman I had run into after the funeral. She was convinced Ken had been killed. And now, her morbid headline was splashed across the pages of the Gainesville Sun. Found dead, late yesterday. Cardiac arrest. Only 42 years old. I wasn’t buying that.

  My order came up. I tossed the newspaper in a wastebasket as I walked out to the car. I stopped. Paranoia washed through me. I looked around. Nothing suspicious stood out. But, knowing they were after me – whoever they were - I couldn’t lower my guard. And, I knew I couldn’t stop this madness by running away. I was only going to stop it by fighting. The trick would be convincing Ilsa of that.

  The stoplight turned red before I could turn onto Ilsa’s street. I waited patiently for it to change green.

  That’s when I saw them -

  Three out of place cars parked near her house. One was facing my direction closer to the intersection. One was a hundred yards past and facing away from Ilsa’s place. The third car sat across the street from the first, but facing Ilsa’s. Each car had a Union County license plate. Union is the smallest county in Florida. So, even though it’s the next county over, you still rarely see Union plates in Gainesville. To see three at once was weird. A man sat in each car. The sun glare on the windshields obscured their details. They were watching.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE LIGHT TURNED green. Instead of driving into Ilsa’s neighborhood, as planned, I flipped off my signal and drove through the light. I checked my mirrors to see if any of the cars followed mine. They didn’t.