The Fitzgerald Ruse

by Mark de Castrique

  “Was Sam’s the only weapon discharged?” Newland asked.

  “Lucas fired at least once,” Nakayla said. “He rolled where the corner of the rock wall blocked our line of sight, but I heard four shots.”

  Calvin walked over to the pool table. “I saw wood fly off.” He bent over the corner. “There’s a slug beside the pocket. If he wanted to play eight-ball, he should have called it.”

  I wondered if the man who fixed the bullet hole in Fitzgerald’s ceiling was still alive.

  Newland frowned. “I’ll have the crime lab dig it out. We found only three brass. All from Sam’s Kimber.”

  “His gun might have ejected the casing over the edge and it’s below somewhere,” I said. “He was whipping it around pretty fast.”

  “Thank God he wasn’t fast enough,” Nathan said.

  “Do you need the Kimber?” I asked Newland.

  “I’m satisfied he pulled a gun and fired. We don’t know who else is out there gunning for you. Keep it, but drop by tomorrow and check with Efird. You and Nakayla can give your statements. I’ll bring him up to speed, and he can have you fire a round for a ballistics match—just for the record.”

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Newland looked at Calvin. “You come with them. I want Efird to get your statement and a little more background on what’s happened on your case since Sam was wounded.”

  Calvin gave him a thumbs-up. “You got it, man.”

  “Where are you going to be?” I asked.

  Newland grimaced. “Close to a bathroom.” He shifted his weight, obviously uncomfortable with further explanation. “I’ve got a colonoscopy scheduled. I’ve postponed it five times and my wife made me swear nothing short of a nuclear attack on Asheville would interfere.”

  Nathan shook his head in sympathy. “Been there, done that. But it’s not tomorrow, is it?”

  “No. Early Friday morning. Tomorrow’s prep day.”

  Calvin laughed. “Riding the porcelain bus. Man, I’d rather be in another shootout than swallow Phospho-soda.”

  Newland didn’t appreciate the ribbing. “You’re kinda young to know what you’re talking about. Wait till you’ve been through it.”

  Calvin’s jaw tightened, and I knew he resented the putdown, slight as it was.

  “Well, you’ve got my condolences,” Donaldson said. “And that’s coming from someone I know you consider one of the biggest asses in Asheville.”

  We all laughed, not so much at Donaldson’s remark but to relieve the tension of what we’d just been through. The zip of the body bag punctuated the moment, and I knew the case was far from closed.

  “How’d you get here so fast?” Newland asked Nathan.

  “I still had someone on Sam and Nakayla. He called me when he spotted Lucas. Things went down so fast he wasn’t able to help.”

  “Where is he?” Newland asked.

  “I told him to lay low in case there’s a second tail. He’s still in the Great Hall.”

  “Blond hair and beard?” I thought Nathan’s operative had to be the man Nakayla and I mistook for Lucas.

  “No. Black hair and clean-shaven. He’s very good. Half the shoplifters convicted in Asheville were nailed by Stu.”

  I glanced at Nakayla and could tell she was as upset as I was that we’d pegged the wrong suspect.

  “I’d like to talk to him,” Newland said. “We’ve got Ethel Barkley’s killer on the loose, and I’d like to know if he saw anyone who might match the Hispanic description we got from Golden Oaks.”

  “Now?” Nathan asked.

  “Sure. Might as well cram in as much as I can before I catch the porcelain bus.” He winked at Calvin.

  Calvin accepted the cue that Newland had gotten over his joke. “What can we do?”

  “You and Sam put your heads together and come up with some way we can flush these guys out. How many do you think we’re dealing with? What’s the connection between your case and the missing lockbox? You know the drill. Bring me something we can work with. Together.” He emphasized the last word and there was no doubt he was running the show, even if it might be from the john.

  As we broke up, I heard Newland yell to his nephews to check the dead man’s car keys against the vehicles in the parking lot and wire his description to the rental agencies.

  It was nearly seven and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. “Where are you parked?” I asked Calvin.

  “At the edge of the main lot.”

  “You want to grab a bite?”

  “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

  I looked to Nakayla for a suggestion, but she stared straight ahead, her teeth clenched. My superior detective skills told me she was mad as hell. “Why don’t Nakayla and I get some takeout? We can meet at the apartment, say eight?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He clapped me on the back. “You did good, Chief. Ed and Charlie would be proud.” He turned to Nakayla. “Nice working with you, pretty lady.”

  “The name’s Nakayla.” The words came out as brittle as ice.

  “Well, nice working with you, Nakayla. You’ve got guts. You can cover my back anytime.”

  She shot him a glance as cold as her words. “I believe I was the one in front.” She hurried her pace, pulling away from both of us. “See you at eight,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Spirited,” Calvin said. “I like that in a woman.”

  “I like it in a partner.” I hurried down the hill after her, figuring the chill of the September night would be a heat wave compared to the temperature inside my CR-V.

  As soon as I was within range, I used my keyless remote to unlock the Honda. Nakayla got in the passenger’s seat without waiting for me.

  I slid behind the steering wheel. “What’s the problem?”

  Nakayla took a deep breath, held it a few seconds, and then spoke in a voice so tight a crowbar couldn’t loosen her words. “The first problem is that you even have to ask the question.”

  “What? Are you mad because I was giving you orders? The Grove Park turned into a combat zone.”

  “I can take orders. What I can’t take is you pushing me into the background. ‘Stay out of the line of fire, Nakayla. Watch the parking lot, Nakayla.’”

  “The parking lot needed watching.”

  “No. The suspect needed to be apprehended. I’m your partner, not your secretary or your research assistant. Either we’re in this together or I’m out.”

  “Look, you’re a terrific partner. That’s what I told Calvin. But your experience in insurance fraud isn’t preparation for confronting armed assailants. You were lucky tonight.”

  “Lucky?” Her sarcastic tone could have drenched Sunset Mountain.

  I cringed at my word choice, but I was too far down the road to turn back. “We’re partners. We’ve got to be honest with each other.”

  I took her silence for a yes. “You pegged the wrong man. If Calvin hadn’t been there, we would have missed Lucas.”

  “The guy was watching me.”

  “A lot of guys watch you. Believe me, I notice.”

  “And I saw him walk close enough to the terrace to check on you and Donaldson.”

  “There’s also a spectacular view.”

  “All right. I pegged the wrong man. But I knew the layout of the Grove Park and figured you’d chase him to that landing. If I’d been out in the parking lot, Lucas would have made it into the employee offices. No telling who could have been hurt.”

  I flashed on the image of Nakayla on the stairs, her gun level and her face set in fearless determination. No question her bravery had stopped him. But the man had been good. In a split-second, he’d seen the opportunity to roll out of her line of fire and take me out. I guess he hadn’t counted on my being armed.

  Nakayla’s voice grew angrier. “But I can tell I’m not part of your boys’ club. Newland wants you and Calvin to put your heads together. Forget me. And then Ed and Charlie, whoever they are, are going to be
proud of your kill, like you’d bagged some twelve-point buck.”

  “Ed and Charlie aren’t ever going to be proud of anything.” I turned the key in the ignition and raced the engine for a second. Then as I put the gear in reverse, I said, “They were our two buddies killed when my leg was blown off. The man I shot was one of those responsible.” I backed the car out of the parking space and started down the mountain. “Call it a boys’ club if you want, but Calvin and I feel an obligation to see justice done.”

  She turned in her seat and looked at me for the first time since we left the inn. “Seeing justice done is one thing, seeking revenge is something else. I’m one who knows the difference.”

  She spoke the truth. Her sister had been brutally murdered and Nakayla’s appeal for my help had been grounded in her desire for justice. I had to remember that revenge worked more on the innocent than the guilty. If that became my motivation, then I’d be in danger of shutting out Nakayla and anyone else who cared for me.

  “Okay. I apologize. You’re right, and you made a hell of a partner tonight. I promise I won’t close you out. That’d be crazy because you’re smarter than Calvin and me put together. I guess I’m not over my fear.”

  “Fear? Fear of Lucas?”

  “Fear that they’d taken you. Maybe killed you. After Ethel Barkley was murdered, we didn’t know who’d be next.” I risked taking my right hand off the wheel and held it out between us. “I felt so helpless.”

  She pressed my palm between both of hers. “Apology accepted. And, for the record, I’m sorry I picked the wrong man in the Great Hall.”

  We headed into a series of curves and I reluctantly pulled my hand free to grip the wheel. “To be honest, I thought you were right about the guy. I guess it proves there’s a blurry line between being suspicious and being paranoid.”

  “I understand where you and Calvin are coming from. You do have an obligation.”

  “Ed and Charlie were good men. They died serving their country. We all have an obligation to them.”

  Nakayla put her hand on my right leg, the leg that was still all me. “And justice should come from all of us. I’m not sure Calvin sees things the same way you do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He strikes me as a hotdog.”

  “That’s just Calvin. And I think he’s got survivor’s guilt. I’ve seen it in a lot of guys.”

  “Maybe,” Nakayla said. “But I don’t want his survivor’s guilt to get you killed.”

  We rode in silence for a few miles. I mulled over everything she had said, especially the difference between justice and revenge. Calvin’s obsession with the Blackwater swill could bite me. We were expected to cooperate with the Asheville police. But, as sure as I sat behind the wheel, I knew Calvin wouldn’t hesitate to pursue his own leads, regardless of what Detective Newland or I said.

  Nakayla broke into my thoughts. “Since we’re being honest, I have to confess part of me is glad you shot that guy.”

  “Really? Self-defense isn’t justice.”

  “And it’s not revenge. But in that split-second after I yelled for him to stop, I saw something that still chills me.”

  “What?”

  “He smiled at me. If that wasn’t the face of a cold-blooded killer, then I never hope to see one.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I think Chinese is what I miss the most.” Calvin scooped the last of the beef and broccoli out of the cardboard container and onto his plate. “Something about Baghdad and hot and sour soup doesn’t work for me.”

  We sat around my small dining table. Nakayla and I had eaten modest portions of the three dishes: beef, chicken, and shrimp prepared in classical Asian traditions. Calvin made sure nothing would be left to refrigerate.

  I’d done most of the talking, filling them in on the murder scene at Golden Oaks and reviewing my conversations with Ethel Barkley for Calvin’s benefit. While returning from the Grove Park Inn, Nakayla and I had discussed Hewitt Donaldson’s request for help, and she pushed me to keep that information confidential. She said sharing details of what might be Donaldson’s dirty laundry wasn’t a good way to build a reputation for Blackman and Robertson. I had to agree.

  “I have no doubt the police will match Lucas’ prints to the guy who followed Nakayla this afternoon.” Calvin jabbed his fork at me. “Your friend’s description matched him, and we suspect Hernandez was killing the old lady at that same time.”

  “What do you think, Nakayla?” I got up from the table, carrying the dishes to the counter. Calvin’s macho attitude wouldn’t get any reinforcement from me.

  “I think we’re floundering. We have suspects, one less, thank God, but we’re looking at motives that are miles and years apart.”

  “How’s that?” Calvin asked.

  “Something happened back in Iraq that brought these killers to Asheville.” She turned to Calvin. “First they tried for you in Paterson, New Jersey, but you gave them the slip. Then they came for Sam. But the murders involved a lockbox with no ties to Iraq, and Ethel Barkley was tortured. Why? Maybe to give up some facts they wanted to know, or maybe to find out what she’d told Sam. We’re floundering because the motives don’t connect. What would a theft and smuggling operation in Iraq have to do with a ninety-year-old woman and her ties to F. Scott Fitzgerald? Or a fascist movement that collapsed in the 1940s?”

  Calvin leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Honey, I can tell you the motive. Greed. That’s what I told Sam. It cuts through time and distance.”

  “That’s what Sam told me. And he said we should turn their motive against them.” She looked at me, and I could tell she was hesitant to go on.

  “I doubt if Ethel told them anything they could use,” I said. “She didn’t know about my Cayman account, if that’s what they were after.”

  Calvin rose and started pacing. “I think you’re right, Chief. The old lady and the lockbox were a side opportunity. They bug your office, they hear about her money, and something in the lockbox arouses their curiosity. I don’t have a clue as to what. Money or negotiable securities wouldn’t mean they’d whack the old lady. But what if it was something they didn’t understand.”

  “You mean like a code,” Nakayla said.

  “Yeah. Could be something like that.”

  “The Great Gatsby,” I muttered.

  “What?” Calvin broke into a grin. A green speck of broccoli clung to one of his white teeth. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

  “No. But you could be onto something. Ethel Barkley might have been a little loony, but she was also cagey. The password The Great Gatsby showed how she thought. I’m sure the Silver Shirts had their share of codes, secret handshakes, and mystic symbols.” I remembered the poem: “The Silver Shirts Are Marching!” “They fancied themselves at war with the U.S. government, an agent of God and doing his will.”

  Calvin snorted. “Sounds damn familiar, doesn’t it? So much for time and distance.”

  “Yeah. And if Ali Baba had a political agenda, then I’d say we might be oversimplifying the greed motive. But that doesn’t matter, because what we need to do to end this is the same whatever the motive.”

  I had their attention: Calvin looked eager and Nakayla worried, sensing what I was about to propose.

  “They murdered two innocent women,” I said.

  Calvin slapped the table with his broad palm. “Hell, we’re all innocent.”

  “Right. Which means any of us, or anyone close to us could be targeted.”

  The phone rang in the bedroom, the fourth call in twenty minutes. I suspected the press was scrambling to cover the Grove Park shooting. Detective Newland would keep them off me as best he could, but they’d be anxious to interview the man who pulled the trigger. The ringing ceased and a voice spoke on the answering machine. The closed bedroom door muffled the words to unintelligible sounds.

  I continued. “I don’t want to wait to find out who or when they strike next.”

&n
bsp; “Hernandez might be the only one left,” Calvin said. “He knows he’s going against both of us. And now he’s got the police and your friend Nathan’s surveillance people to deal with.”

  Nakayla sat stiffly in the chair. “And me.”

  Calvin pointed his index finger at her and moved his thumb like the hammer of a revolver. “Right, sister. Like you. That goes without saying.”

  Nakayla glared at him. “No, we’re going to say it because I don’t want you to forget it, like you’ve forgotten something else.”

  Calvin’s dark face grew darker. “What’s that?”

  “Odds are that Hernandez is not the only one left. I’ve been thinking how they put a tail on me. If the fingerprints from Lucas match those on the glass, then he was following me. Someone, probably Hernandez, killed Ethel Barkley. But Sam is the bigger fish. Why wouldn’t Lucas have dropped me, either to take care of Ethel or to tail Sam? I can’t believe they would let Sam go unobserved. There has to be a third man.”

  Calvin pursed his lips. Then he slowly nodded in agreement. “And this guy you saw, the one with the blond hair and beard, he might be our third man?”

  “We have to work that possibility. Sam saw him and got the same feeling I did. He was watching us.”

  “I trust Nakayla’s instincts,” I said. “That’s why we’ve got to draw them out.”

  “How?” Calvin asked.

  “Make them think we’ve got what Ethel Barkley wouldn’t give them. We have to assemble the pieces we have into a story they’ll believe. We have to set a trap, and I’m the only one who can do it.”

  “I don’t know, Chief. I agree with Nakayla that we’re dealing with more than Hernandez. You don’t want to be bait for these jokers.”

  For the first time, Nakayla smiled at Calvin. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.”

  I pressed ahead. “But we want them to think they still have the upper hand. And there’s a difference between setting a trap and being the bait.”