"They're already there?" Semmes asked.
"Since last night."
"Damn. They had to sail straight through to make it that quick."
Pratt shrugged. "Maybe. We need to figure out how to keep an eye on them."
"Picnic boat?" Semmes asked.
Pratt shook his head. "Too damn easy to recognize. Too fancy. I want somebody ashore to watch 'em. You know anybody that lives there? Locals?"
"No, sir. But I have an idea."
"Well, speak up, boy."
Semmes felt the flush of anger rise on his face. He turned away, facing into the breeze that was created by the boat's movement. "Etienne and Monique."
"Say what?"
"The Leclercs," Semmes said.
"Who?"
"The chief steward and his wife. She's one — "
"Sumbitch barely speaks English," Pratt said. "What's this about his wife?"
"She's one of the maids, sir."
"So?"
"They're from Haiti."
"The fuck do I care where they're from, Semmes? What're you drivin' at?"
"They speak French, and they — "
"Ah hah! You thinkin' they could pass for locals?"
"Probably not locals, but they'd blend in. There're lots of Haitians in Martinique."
"Yeah! You're thinkin', boy. I like that."
"After we get anchored in Rodney Bay, I could come back in the picnic boat and drop 'em off. We'll give 'em one of the ship's credit cards, and they can hang out and watch the people on that boat."
"Good. Make it happen."
"Yes, sir. I'll get them lined up, and make a reservation at this hotel I know there. With any luck I can get them a room with a view of the anchorage, so they can keep out of sight."
"Get 'em a burner cell phone, Semmes. Tell 'em how to use it, too. I don't want anybody to be able to trace nothin' back to us."
"Yes, sir. No problem."
"That means cash, too. Don't be givin' 'em no credit card. I don't care what they spend, long as it's cash. We got euros?"
"We've got some. I'll have to check. We have plenty of dollars, though, and they'll be fine."
"I don't like it."
"But sir, dollars aren't un — "
"No dollars. I don't want nothin' that might raise the slightest suspicion: you understand me?"
"Yes, sir. I can get some cash in euros from an ATM at the marina in Rodney Bay, I'm pretty sure."
"Good. You can run 'em over there tonight after we get to Rodney Bay."
"That'll mean they're illegal, sir. The hotel may want to see their passports, and — "
"No way to clear the picnic boat in tonight with them on the paperwork?"
"Well, after-hours clearance would attract a lot of attention. Most pleasure boats just wait until the next day. I could do it first thing in the morning with no problem."
"That means no coverage tonight, though. They could slip out without us seein', or we could miss a perfect chance to grab that little bitch."
"I could drop Etienne and Monique off tonight; they'd just have to rough it and lay low until I can get their passports stamped in the morning. Shouldn't be a big problem. They could close a bar, or something, and then crash on the beach right there at the anchorage."
"That sounds good. Make it worth their trouble, okay?"
"Sure, Mr. Pratt. I can do that. Maybe even give 'em a few days off to enjoy Ste. Anne after we're done, and fly 'em back to the boat?"
"Yeah. Whatever it takes, Semmes."
"Yes, sir. If you'll excuse me, I'll go talk to them; give 'em a few hours to get ready."
"Yeah, fine."
****
"What's happening, Luke?" Paul asked, answering the satellite phone as he and Connie sat in the cockpit.
"You alone? Or is Connie there with you?"
"She's here. Should I put you on the speaker? It's just the two of us. Sadie's ashore."
"Don't go to the speaker just yet; this may be a little personal. I have — "
"Personal? About Internal Affairs?"
"I've got some unpleasant news, Paul. Maddy was killed last night. I'm sorry to tell you like this, but — "
"Maddy? Killed?" Paul's shock came through in his inflection.
"I'm sorry, Paul; I know — "
"I understand, Luke." Paul said, "Thanks, but don't … I'm okay … what happened?"
Connie stood and went below, returning with the thermal carafe. She extended it toward Paul's coffee cup, raising her eyebrows. He pushed the cup toward her and nodded.
"I got the call early this morning. We're waiting on the preliminary report from the M.E., but she's pretty sure Maddy was strangled. Probably a burglary gone bad. The place was a mess. Looks like Maddy put up a fight; there was blood and skin under her fingernails."
"So you got a DNA sample from the perp?"
"Yeah, but I still need to find somebody to match it to."
"I may be able to help, there."
"I'll take anything; what do you have?"
"Check out Louie Delgado."
"Delgado?" Luke's voice reflected his surprise.
"Yeah. I hired a P.I. to see what Maddy was up to after she started making noise about me concealing assets during the divorce. She discovered Delgado's been seeing Maddy — spending a lot of time at her place."
"I'll be damned," Luke said. "That's a lead worth following. Who's the P.I.?"
"A woman named Sandra Edwards; my lawyer recommended her."
"Don't know her. She have anything else on Maddy or Delgado?"
"Yeah. Both of 'em are living large. She's running financials on 'em. Delgado's also keeping a 19-year-old stripper on the side in a fancy apartment."
"That sounds like Delgado; that bastard's gotta be on the take," Luke said. "Which reminds me, there's an interesting rumor making the rounds about I.A. You got time for gossip?"
"Sure. What's the latest?"
"They had warrants for a bunch of bank records that they served this morning. It blew up in their faces. The accounts don't even exist. I don't know who they were after. They had copies of statements from a snitch, but word is they were bogus."
"That's Maddy," Paul said.
"Huh? What're you saying, Paul? You lost me."
"Maddy had to be their snitch." Paul gave his old partner a quick summary of what he knew, omitting the part about Connie's action with the lawyer in Nassau.
"Bizarre," Luke said. "You know what I think?"
"Tell me."
"I think Delgado was trying to frame you. That would explain the questions from I.A. about the expensive jewelry you supposedly gave Maddy years ago. You said those accounts went back to when you were married to her?"
"Yeah. Think he set me up for I.A.?"
"That sounds like a strong possibility, but I can't make any sense out of his using bogus accounts. That was stupid. He would have known I.A. was gonna check the bank records. You got copies of those statements, by any chance?"
"My lawyer should have them."
"Who's your lawyer?"
"Larry Michaels. I'll call him and ask him to give you copies. He can hook you up with the P.I., too."
"Yeah, do that. I think our old buddy Louie's moved to the top of the suspect list."
"You gonna talk to I.A. before you go after him?"
"Hell, no! First, I don't like 'em. I'm not even sure they aren't on the take, for that matter. Sounds like Delgado was leading 'em your way, and they were following right along. Second, I got a homicide, probably a murder, to investigate. He's my number one suspect, don't you think?"
"Yeah, sounds that way. Keep me posted, okay?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, I will. Give my best to Connie. Gotta run." Luke disconnected.
Paul turned to Connie. "You heard?"
"Enough. Thanks for not telling him about the money."
"I wouldn't have known where to start. It's irrelevant, anyway, from the sound of things."
"You okay?" Connie asked.<
br />
Paul frowned.
"About Maddy," she said.
"I'm sorry she's dead, but I'm not devastated, if that's what you mean. There was enough friction in that five years to erase any special feelings I had for her."
She nodded and gave him a hug.
"I'd better call Larry," Paul said. "I need to let him know it's okay to give Luke copies of those bogus bank statements."
****
"How was the shopping?" Connie asked Sadie. They were sitting on Phillip's veranda, looking out over the anchorage while Paul and Sandrine were busy preparing dinner.
"It was fun; Sandrine's got endless energy."
"Tell me about it," Phillip said. "Where did you go?"
"Downtown Fort-de-France. I'm not sure, beyond that, but there were a lot of places selling designer stuff from all over the world. Before I forget, I found this in a magazine in one of the boutiques." She reached into the shopping bag at her feet and extracted a folded page torn from a glossy magazine. Spreading it on the table in front of them, she pointed to a handsome man in evening dress standing with a group of people, obviously at a gala event of some sort. "This guy was on Morning Mist in St. Barth."
"Hector Ochoa," Connie read from the caption. "But you didn't see him in the mug shots Luke emailed the other day?"
"I don't know; I should take another look. But this man was definitely there. I didn't meet him or anything, but a couple of the girls, uh ... well, they had been in his stateroom one night. They said he was really important and powerful."
"I've got those mug shots here," Phillip said. "Paul forwarded them to me. Come on inside."
A few minutes later, they were in the kitchen, clustered around Phillip's laptop and studying the grainy mug shots. Sadie held the clipping from the magazine next to the screen.
"That's the same guy, all right," Paul said. "The photo Luke sent that's labeled '3'. Let's see if we can get Luke."
"Hector Ochoa, huh," Luke said a few minutes later. They had him on the speakerphone in Phillip's office.
"Who is he?" Paul asked.
"I don't know. The photos I sent are from surveillance shots the DEA had of suspected high-level traffickers. I'm not sure where they took that one, even. I don't think they had names for some of those guys. I'll have to pass this along and see what turns up next."
"Let us know, okay?" Paul asked.
"Yeah. No problem. Since you called, I got a couple of other things. I was gonna call you in the morning, anyway."
"What do you have?" Paul asked.
"The M.E. ruled Maddy's death homicide; manual strangulation. I got a warrant for a DNA sample from Delgado based on surveillance photos your P.I. had. We're trying to find him now."
"So you got in touch with Sandra, then," Paul said. "How about the bank statements? Larry give you those?"
"Yeah. They helped support an internal request for the originals that I.A. got from Maddy a while back, but I.A.'s stalling, claiming ongoing investigation into corruption, yadda yadda. You know how those bastards are."
"I do," Paul said. "But your homicide investigation should trump their objections."
"Yeah. I've run it up the chain of command. We'll see what happens. If I get a match on Delgado's DNA, nothing else is gonna matter. That's about all I know right now."
"Okay, thanks. Keep us posted," Paul said.
"Will do. Hey! I almost forgot. Can you get a deposition from Sadie putting Delgado and this guy Ochoa on Pratt's boat at the big meet in St. Barth?"
"Yes," Sadie said. "I'll do that."
"When do you need it?" Paul asked.
"Sooner rather than later," Luke said.
"I can arrange this with a magistrate tomorrow," Sandrine said. "It is a small thing. We have access to her all the time, and a court reporter, for the Douane. Or do you wish a video?"
"Both, if you can do it."
"Mais oui," Sandrine said. "And now we must eat. The dinner, it will chill out. Do you wish that we call you later, Luke?"
"No, thanks. I think we're done. Have a nice evening. We'll talk tomorrow."
Chapter 22
Pratt answered the call to his satellite phone with an abrupt, "Yeah?"
"Hey, boss?"
"Freddy?"
"Yeah, boss."
"Where the hell are you, Freddy?"
"Gettin' on a plane in Antigua. The guy that sprung me said you wanted me to come to St. Lucia. I figured I oughta check, though."
"Yeah, come on. We're here in Rodney Bay. Semmes just went to clear us in. When you gonna get here?"
"Looks like about an hour and a half. They said I'm flyin' into the commuter airport — Vigie Airport, in Castries, close to Rodney Bay. That sounds pretty good, huh?"
"Yeah. You leavin' now?"
"Yeah. They're about to board. I got maybe five minutes."
"I'll get Semmes to meet you at the marina. Take a taxi from the airport. Who sprung you?"
"Some guy that said he was from the Colombian consulate picked me up. He said the witness changed his story; said he was mistaken when he identified me." Freddy laughed. "Happens a lot, don't it, boss?"
"Uh-huh, it does. Get your ass down here. We got work to do."
"You find them people we lookin' for, then?"
"Uh-huh. They ain't far. We got eyes on 'em. With any luck we'll get this shit sorted out in the next day and get back to work."
"Sounds good, boss. I gotta go. They're boardin' now."
"Good. See ya in a bit." Pratt hung up the phone and watched the picnic boat's approach. He glanced down at his watch. It was 8:30 a.m. — still early. Semmes brought the boat alongside the swim platform and two of the deck crew took his lines. He vaulted the side of the low-slung boat and landed on the swim platform like a big cat, heading for the outside ladder to the bridge.
"We're all cleared in, Mr. Pratt," Semmes said, a minute later. "Should I head on over to Ste. Anne and make Etienne and Monique legal?"
"You gotta do it right away? Freddy's comin'."
"You want me to pick him up or something?"
"Yeah, maybe. I was thinkin' if he went over there with you, you could leave him with the Leclerc people, in case somethin' happened quick, you know?"
"How long's he going to be?"
"Coupla hours, max."
Semmes looked at his watch. "I could do that. Check-in time's not until two o'clock at that hotel where I booked them. Should I get a room for Freddy?"
"Nah. He can bunk in with them; they can take turns watchin' Diamantista II. They spotted it, you said?"
"Yes, sir. They called at first light. Diamantista II is anchored a couple of hundred yards off the beach."
"Good. Then go on back in and wait for Freddy," Pratt said.
"Okay, then. If it's okay, I'll have a late breakfast before I head in; sounds like I'm likely to miss lunch, anyway."
"Sure. Suit yourself. You gave 'em a burner phone, right?"
"Yes, sir. With your sat phone programmed on the second speed dial in case they can't get me. You haven't heard from them, have you?"
"No. I been on the phone most of the mornin', though."
"I was, too, while I was waiting for customs. Thought they might have called. They would have left a voice mail, though. They're only going to call if they see the people leave the boat. Or if the boat moves."
"How long to get there from here?"
"Seas are pretty flat. Forty minutes, max."
"Hmm," Pratt said, frowning.
"A lot faster in the chopper," Semmes said.
"Yeah, but I'm thinkin' of a snatch. That won't work too good with the chopper."
"All three people?" Semmes asked.
"Maybe. It would be better if we could figure a way to get Sadie alone, but I ain't come up with it yet. If we can't, we'll have to take 'em all."
"We could waste the two people that run the boat, make it look like some kind of robbery," Semmes said.
"Yeah. We might have to do that. I don't like it,
though. That guy's a retired cop. Wastin' him might cause problems."
"I thought Louie was setting him up to look dirty, so you could waste him if you needed to."
"Yeah. Well, Louie fucked that up. I ain't quite sure what he did, but he's done lost half a mil, and made himself look stupid in the bargain. He may not be with us much longer, if you get what I'm sayin'."
Semmes swallowed hard, but didn't respond for a few seconds. "But we need somebody inside the MPD don't we?"
"Yeah. No worries. There's plenty of crooked cops. I got somebody in mind, be in an even better place to help than old Louie."
Semmes waited a few seconds and said, "Well, I'd better get that breakfast. I ought to be headed back into the marina pretty shortly. Did you tell Freddy to take a taxi there?"
"Yeah. Go eat, Semmes."
****
"I don't know how long we'll be," Paul said. "Sandrine's going to have to drive us into Fort-de-France to the magistrate's office."
"I thought she said the magistrate had an office in Marin," Connie said. "Is that what Sandrine called about a few minutes ago?"
"Yes. Change of plans. The magistrate's working downtown today. Sandrine said the video equipment would be better there, anyway. Sure you don't want to come? We're likely to be several hours."
"I'll stay here; I'd just be in the way. Besides, it's time to touch up the varnish, and it's a nice, still morning — no breeze to blow dust into my work."
"Why do you have to touch it up?" Sadie asked, staring down at the top of the cockpit table. "I can see my reflection in it now."
"It takes constant attention to keep it looking this way," Connie said. "All it takes is one tiny ding to break the surface, and before you know it, you're into a major refinishing project."
"I guess that's kind of like my grandma's old saying, 'a stitch in time saves nine,'" Sadie said.
"You haven't mentioned her before," Connie said. "Where does she live?"
"Oh, she's in a home. Senile dementia — she hasn't been right since long before my parents died."
"That's sad," Connie said.
"Yeah, I miss her a lot. She was the one that encouraged me to stick with my music, in spite of my parents."
"Sorry to interrupt, but we'd better get going," Paul said. "Do you want to run us in to the town dock so you can keep the dinghy?"
"I can't think why I'd need it," Connie said. "I'm not going anywhere."
Running Under Sail Page 16
