Bluewater Rendezvous: The Eighth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 8)

by Charles Dougherty

  "You don't sound like yourself."

  "Just woke up," she said.

  "Tough life that you yachties have."

  "Right. So, did you get the warrant?"

  "Yeah. I got the warrant. I'm sorry, but your brother wasn't there."

  "Damn," she said. "Shouldn't have trusted that little scumbag."

  "Oh, I think Willy was telling the truth. Somebody had been held there recently, anyhow. There was bedding that hadn't been there long. All kinds of fast food containers, fresh enough so they still smelled like burgers and fries. Some bloody bandages, too. Right size for the stump of a finger, so there's a good chance it was Rollie. I'm sorry we didn't find him, but at least it looks like he's still alive."

  "You haven't called my mother, have you?"

  "No. I'm still working on the basis that she didn't want anybody but you involved. That's what you told me. You want me to call her? Or are you going to?"

  "You call her, please. I don't think I can deal with her right now."

  "Yeah. Figured that. I'll have to tell her you made the report."

  "Yes, I know. She'll blow up at that, but it'll be directed at me, not you. I appreciate it, Luke."

  "Least favorite part of my job. Well, maybe not quite, but still, it's right up there."

  "What happens now?"

  "We're back to doing basic police work. I've got uniforms canvassing the neighborhood. Maybe somebody noticed unusual activity around the warehouse, but I'm not hopeful. It's a spooky area; lots of abandoned waterfront. Old buildings — most are falling down. Half-sunken tramp steamers along the bulkhead. You ever been up the Miami River?"

  "Yes. Not recently, though."

  "It hasn't changed in years. Every so often a developer manages to raze some of the dumps and tries to build high-rise condos. That's fizzled too, the last few years. Anyhow, we're doin' that, and we're digging through all the property records to see if we can tie Cappelletti to the place. Once we find your brother, there'll be DNA from the bandage to put him at the warehouse, but we gotta find him first. We're treating him as a missing person, for now. I got his picture out with all the patrols. If I can tie Cappelletti or one of his people to the warehouse, we can start rattling their cages and see what we get. Problem with that is they might decide to make him vanish. What do you think?"

  "His prospects don't look good now anyway. I, um ... I kind of spit in Cappelletti's eye, last night."

  "You saw him? At that party?"

  "No. I talked to him on the phone. I threatened him; figured maybe I could push him into doing something stupid."

  "You threatened him? With what?"

  "Well, after I heard that from Willy about my brother, I told Cappelletti that if he let my brother go, I might let him live."

  "Shit, Dani. He's probably laughing his ass off. No offense, but he wouldn't take that seriously — not from you. I'm mean this is a guy who's used to Mafia wars. That warehouse I told you about that burned? Somebody blew that up; burned up millions of dollars' worth of cocaine, according to the rumors on the street. Killed two of his people. What did he say when you threatened him?"

  "I hung up on him before he could answer."

  "Okay. I'll call your mother and tell her that you brought us in based on something you learned in the Virgin Islands. I'll leave it to you to explain that part to her. Meanwhile, call me if you hear anything, and don't poke the damn hornets' nest again, okay?"

  "Sure, Luke. Thanks." She disconnected the call.

  "What's up?" Liz asked.

  Dani jumped, surprised.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I just didn't want to disturb you while you were talking to Luke."

  "That's okay. You making coffee? Or should I?"

  "I'll do it. What did Luke say?"

  Dani sat down at the chart table and began to fill Liz in while she spooned coffee into the basket of the stove-top espresso maker. "Now I'm worried that I might have provoked Cappelletti into doing away with Rollie, Liz. Me and my temper." Dani shook her head, looking down at the chart table.

  "You don't know that; that's anxiety talking. Don't be so hard on yourself. You did what you thought was best at the time. You can't know everything, so you can't be right every time." Liz put a hand on Dani's shoulder. "Besides, like you said, Rollie's own weakness helped get him into this. The person to blame is Cappelletti; except for him, none of this would have happened."

  "You're right. The solution is to take Cappelletti off the board," Dani said, her eyes flashing as the muscles in her jaw jumped.

  ****

  Rollie lay in the trunk of the black Lincoln Town Car, sure that Franco was going to kill him. He remembered everything he'd been taught about surviving abductions. These guys had made no effort to conceal their faces. They'd treated him like a guest at the big place on Star Island until Franco cut his finger off. He would recognize them with no trouble. That was a bad sign.

  He had been on a serious high when Franco took his finger. He had not been sure what was going on, then. Now, he had not had a hit of coke for 18 hours. He was as straight as he was going to get, though he was in a deep slump. When Franco had unlocked the door to the room they'd dumped him in last night, Rollie had expected to lose another finger. They had told him that unless Dani followed their instructions, he was going to be dismembered. They were going to send the pieces to his mother until Dani complied with their demands.

  Instead, Jimmy, the burly driver, had jerked him to his feet and frog-marched him out into the warehouse. Franco had shoved him into the open trunk of the big car and slammed the lid. That was when he decided that his time was up. He wracked his brain to remember everything he had ever heard about people surviving this kind of situation.

  He had a recollection about a captive in the trunk of a car disconnecting the taillight wiring and sending an SOS in Morse code. That was beyond his capability, but it did make him think that he might be able to disconnect the taillights.

  That might do no good; he wasn't even sure if it was night or day. The warehouse was dark inside, so he had no clue. He had at least a chance that somebody might notice the lights weren't working. He had nothing to lose by trying, and then he would look for the tire iron to use for a weapon. He knew he was no match for Franco and Jimmy, but again, he had nothing to lose by trying.

  ****

  The motorcycle cop had his eye on the black Lincoln Town Car. The driver had changed lanes several times without signaling. The car swerved across two lanes of traffic and accelerated down the ramp for the Dolphin Expressway. He followed and pulled up close behind it, calling in the license plate as he turned on his blue lights. He saw the driver's eyes flick to the rear view mirror. At that point, he gave a burst on the siren and motioned the man to the side of the road. There was another man in the back seat, looking over his shoulder out the back window and frowning.

  The car slowed abruptly and pulled to the shoulder, the brake lights never coming on. The cop relaxed a little; the driver probably didn't realize that his rear lights were all out. He put the kickstand down and took his ticket book from the zippered pocket on his right thigh. He swung his leg over the bike and dismounted. He was just passing the left rear fender when he heard a muffled yell from the trunk of the car. He looked over just in time to see the smooth surface of the trunk lid erupt into a small dimple as if something had struck it from the underside. Then there was another loud sound, and a second inverted dent appeared. Worried now, he unsnapped his holster and rested his hand on the grip of his pistol. Not taking his eyes from the two men in the car, he backed up to the motorcycle and picked up the p.a. microphone.

  "Please turn off your engine. Do not get out of the car," he said. He keyed the microphone in his helmet and called for backup. He noticed that the man in the back seat was talking on a cellphone. Two minutes ticked by, and then a patrol car passed and pulled off in front of the Lincoln. Two patrolmen got out, pistols in hand, and approached the Lincoln, motioning for the driv
er and passenger to get out.

  In less than two minutes, Franco and his driver were in the back seat of the patrol car, their hands cuffed behind them. Rollie Stanwicke was leaning against the back of the Lincoln. His relief was obvious as he told the officers what had happened.

  Chapter 27

  Liz had put the last course of their brunch on the table when the satellite phone rang. Seeing on the display that the call was from Luke, Dani answered and put him on the speaker.

  "We have your brother, Dani. Except for the finger, he's in good shape. Strange guy, though. I asked if he wanted to talk to you before we put him to work looking at mug shots, and he declined."

  "I'm not surprised. Did he say why?"

  "I hesitate to — "

  "It's okay, Luke. I can imagine that he blames me. What did he say?"

  "He said, 'Tell the bitch to go fuck herself; I hope somebody cuts off her finger.' I'm sorry, Dani, but you asked."

  "Thanks, Luke. Like I said, I'm not surprised. I'm glad the shithead's okay. I suppose it's too much to hope that he might learn anything from this."

  "Probably. He seems pretty self-centered."

  "Did he have any useful information?"

  "Not yet. He told us Franco Andretti cut off his finger. Andretti and his driver had him in the trunk of a car, headed west out of Miami. Your brother can i.d. them, but that's not too useful. They were caught red-handed, as the saying goes. My guess is they were going to kill him and dump the body out in the Everglades. Your brother had the presence of mind to rip out the wiring to the taillights. A motorcycle patrolman pulled them over because the turn signals weren't working. He heard your brother yelling and beating on the trunk lid with a tire iron before he got as far as checking the license and registration."

  "I never said he was stupid — just a spoiled asshole."

  "Yeah, okay. Andretti called one of the mob lawyers before they got him out of the car. Piece of shit was waiting at the lockup when the uniforms brought Andretti and his driver in. Obviously, they're not talking, but they'll still go away for a long time. Rollie recognized Cappelletti's name, but he didn't meet him face to face. He wasn't able to pick him out of a mug shot composite. We think they probably had him at Star Island, from the bits and pieces he remembered. We need to prove he was at Cappelletti's place or get Andretti to roll over. Otherwise, we'll have a tough time tying Cappelletti in to the kidnapping. By his own admission, Rollie was wasted on coke at that point. They moved him to the warehouse that same day, after they cut off his finger. He's going through some mug shots that vice had right now."

  "Vice?" Dani asked.

  "Yeah. There was a woman who claimed to be a nurse that lured him away from rehab."

  "I can guess, but tell me anyway. What did she offer him?"

  "Coke and sex. Andretti's got a string of high-priced call girls. This one was named Suzie. That narrows it to a couple, if she was using her real name, but we've gotta go through the motions, having him pick through all of them. Still, it's not that many. Should be quick, then we'll bring her in and see if she'll talk."

  "Thanks, Luke. Anything else?"

  "No, not right now."

  "Any news on John?" Angela asked.

  "My next stop. I gotta grab a burger, and then I'm gonna call and see how he's doing. I'll call you back, but it's gonna be a busy afternoon, so I can't say when. I got two uniforms scheduled to pick up your father and bring him in for questioning, just to rattle him."

  "Thanks," Angela said, nodding at Dani, who had a finger poised over the disconnect button.

  ****

  "What do they want," Guido asked the man who had come to his study to tell him two cops were at the front door.

  "They wouldn't say, Don Guido. They said tell you can talk to them now, or they can come back with a warrant. Your choice, they said."

  Guido grimaced and pushed his swivel chair back from the desk. He walked to the front door with a scowl on his face. "Here I am. What do you want?"

  "Lieutenant Pantene wants to talk to you," said the older one, a husky man in his early 40s with a sergeant's stripes on his sleeve.

  "So, where the fuck is he?"

  "Downtown," the sergeant said.

  "Tell him to make an appointment."

  "Don't work like that, Mr. Cappelletti. You need to come with us."

  "Am I under arrest?"

  "Not yet, but it can happen pretty quick if that's what it takes."

  "That a threat, officer? Because I — "

  "Not a threat, sir. You're a material witness in a kidnapping case. It would be better if you came in voluntarily."

  "I need to make a call first."

  "Sorry, sir. You can make your calls downtown."

  ****

  Guido sat in a small, stuffy interview room, flanked by his lawyer. Luke Pantene passed him a five-by-seven color photograph. Guido studied it for a moment and looked up, a bored expression on his face.

  "You recognize the man in the photograph, Mr. Cappelletti?"

  Guido shook his head.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but you need to answer my questions aloud, for the recording," Luke said.

  "No. Never seen him before."

  "Do you recognize the name Roland, or Rollie, Stanwicke?"

  "No."

  "How about Marie Stanwicke?"

  "No."

  "Danielle, or Dani — "

  "I think that's enough, Lieutenant. You're obviously fishing, and my client is a busy man."

  Luke shrugged. "If that's the way you want to play it, counselor." He stood up and turned to the door, opening it and addressing the uniformed officer who stood outside. "Arrest Mr. Cappelletti, please. Book him for obstructing an investigation, aiding and abetting in the commission of a felony, and — "

  "That's bullshit," bellowed the lawyer, jumping to his feet.

  "We'll have to see what the judge thinks, I guess," Luke said.

  Guido put a hand on the lawyer's arm. "Sit down. I got no problem answering the Lieutenant's questions."

  The lawyer shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. He took his seat.

  "Sorry, Lieutenant," Guido said. "Danielle, you were saying?"

  "Yes, or Dani. Last name is Berger."

  "No. Sorry. Never heard of her."

  "That's okay. How about Franco Andretti?"

  The expression on Guido's face never changed. "There's a man by that name that I've done some business with over the years."

  "Does he work for you?"

  "No. We have some common interests; I may have invested in some of his clubs; I'd have to check with my accountant to be more specific. You want me to call?"

  "Not right now. How about Angela Cappelletti?"

  "Are you making a joke of some kind, Lieutenant?"

  "No, sir. Could you answer, please?"

  "Yes, of course. She's my daughter."

  "And can you tell us where she is?"

  "Where she is? You mean, right this minute?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "She's 25 years old, Lieutenant. She doesn't check in and out with me. You got kids?"

  "No, sir, I don't. Do you own a villa in East End, St. Thomas?"

  "I did."

  "You did? Does that mean you sold it?"

  "No. It burned to the ground in the last couple of days. Tragic. Three of my associates died."

  Luke allowed himself a look of surprise. "How strange. A warehouse that you lease out by the Interstate burned down in the last few days, too. That one looks like arson, and two men died there. Do you think the fires are related in any way?"

  "Possibly. The police in St. Thomas say the fire at the villa was arson, too. You believe in coincidence, Lieutenant?"

  "No, sir."

  "Lieutenant," the lawyer said, "it's clear that my client is being cooperative, and that in fact, he's a victim here. Arson is a serious crime. We demand to know what you're — " He stopped as Guido put a hand on his arm.

  "How else can I help, Lieut
enant?" Guido asked.

  "There's one more area I'd like to ask you about. Do you recognize the name John Welsh?"

  "Yes. There's a young lawyer from Atlanta by that name who's a friend of my daughter's. Why?"

  "He's been missing for almost two weeks."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. He was a nice youngster."

  "He was on his way to meet your daughter for a holiday on a yacht in the Caribbean when he was last seen."

  "I see. I haven't heard from her for a while. Maybe that's why. You think maybe they're together?"

  "When was the last time you heard from your daughter, Mr. Cappelletti?"

  "I can't say, exactly. You know, no particular reason to remember."

  "A month?"

  "No, not that long."

  "A day? Two days? A week?"

  "Maybe two or three weeks, I don't know."

  "Thank you for coming in, Mr. Cappelletti. I appreciate your time and your cooperation."

  Luke stood and opened the door, holding it and gesturing for Cappelletti and his lawyer to exit.

  ****

  "This is the one," Rollie said, tapping the photograph on the screen.

  "You sure?" Detective Sergeant Marian Santos asked.

  "Yeah. No question. She reminds me a little of Dani. Same kind of pixie look when she grins."

  "Who's Dani?"

  "Oh, nobody important. Just a girl I used to know. But the gap between her front teeth, that makes Suzie look kind of ... um ... I don't know. Cute, I guess. Anyhow, it's right here in the picture. See?" Rollie put his finger on the screen again pointing out the gap.

  "Yep. She is kind of cute," Santos said, wincing at the word. She reached past Rollie and clicked a couple of keys, bringing up the girl's arrest record. "Suzie Conner," she read, scanning the screen and paging down. "Looks like she really was a nurse. Got a degree, and everything. Was she a user?"

  "User?" Rollie asked. "Oh, you mean, like, coke?"

  "Yeah, or anything else?"

  "She had a stash of coke. She snorted when I did, but I don't know if that would make her a user. I do a few lines now and then, but I'm not really a user."

  "Uh-huh," Santos said, looking at him from the corner of her eye. She picked up the phone and called Luke Pantene, speaking in a soft voice for a couple of minutes.