Ron Base - Tree Callister 02 - The Sanibel Sunset Detective Returns

by Ron Base

  “That’s because they’ve got you nicely drugged. You’ve suffered broken ribs, lacerations to your face, and a badly sprained hand which must have happened when you fell out of the car.”

  “I didn’t fall out. I made a strategic exit.”

  “The good news is that the doctors think you will live. However, they have asked me to point out something that you may not be aware of.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re too old for this.”

  “The doctors don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “Of course not,” Freddie said. “How could they?” She perched on the edge of the bed, smiling down at him. “There is one other thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “You are missing two front teeth.”

  “That’s because someone kicked them out.”

  “Yes,” Freddie said. “I thought it might be something like that.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve got a toothless husband,” he said.

  “As long as I’ve got a husband,” she said.

  He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

  47

  It took some time to unravel the details of what had happened.

  The Sarasota police found the body of Tony Dodge after they had been called to the home of the late Aksel Baldur by neighbors hearing gunshots.

  Dodge was Anthony Thomas Dodge from Detroit. He had recently been released from Coleman Prison where he had served ten years for manslaughter. The Detroit police said he had worked for the city’s Tocco and Zerrilli crime families. He had gone to prison convicted of manslaughter after an FBI informant was beaten to death.

  From what police could piece together, there had been a falling out between Dodge and two other Baldur security men, Emile Nappi and Carl Whitman. Tree knew them better as Fudd and Elmer. Nappi, aka Fudd, had a long criminal record that included extortion, aggravated assault and car theft. Whitman, bear-like Elmer, had been tried for two murders that ended with hung juries.

  Both men had been wounded in the course of the shootout that killed Dodge. Despite their wounds, and for reasons still unclear to investigators, the two gunmen had gone after their employer.

  A single gunshot to the head had killed Aksel Baldur. The shot had been fired by Nappi as he stumbled from the minivan after it crashed into Baldur’s Lincoln. Whitman was pried out of the crushed remains and declared dead on arrival at hospital.

  The police were anxious to know what Tree Callister, badly beaten with two missing front teeth, was doing in a car with Aksel Baldur.

  Tree explained that he had come to Sarasota to question Aksel Baldur after finding explicit photos showing Baldur and Kendra having sex.

  Tree said he met Baldur at the Ringling mansion after the unveiling of Aksel’s spring collection (the reviews in the fashion press had not been good). They were driving away when their Lincoln was rammed by the minivan driven by Fudd and Elmer.

  Privately, trying to rationalize what had happened, Tree speculated that since he had witnessed the shootout with Dodge, the two thugs were coming after him and not Baldur. Crashing into the Lincoln was probably a misguided attempt on their part to rescue Baldur. Tree could not think of a reason why he should tell the police any of this.

  Over the objections of lawyer Edith Goldman, Tree received a hospital visit from Sanibel Detective Owen Markfield. Before he died, Tree said, Aksel Baldur told him that Kendra Callister confessed to murdering Brand Traven after the two had fought over their high-end sex business.

  Convenient, Markfield observed, that Baldur had fingered a dead woman just before he died. However, the police had matched Kendra’s DNA with traces found at the Traven house. While there were other possible explanations for the presence of her DNA, the prosecutors no longer believed they had enough evidence to convict Elizabeth Traven, and she was released.

  There was talk of charging her with soliciting and procurement in connection with the sex trafficking ring, although Elizabeth vehemently denied any involvement.

  Left open was the question of who killed Kendra Callister.

  Markfield still favored Tree for the crime. But now there were the photos of Aksel with a belt wrapped around Kendra’s throat, and the late clothing designer became the most likely suspect. There was, Tree was relieved to note, no talk of his son Chris being charged.

  Kendra’s parents, Bill and Anita Dean, arrived on the island. After they collected their daughter’s body, they took her back to Marshall, Missouri where Kendra had grown up and attended Missouri Valley College. Bill Dean was manager of the local Walmart. Anita taught business at the college. Freddie tried to reach out to them, but they refused to even take her phone call.

  48

  Five days after he was admitted to hospital, Tree was released. Freddie helped him to her car.

  “I’m still mad at you,” she said.

  “Even though your battered knight errant is coming home?”

  “The battered knight errant who doesn’t tell me everything.”

  “That’s not true.” Not sure he was telling her the truth.

  “I don’t like it when you keep things from me, Tree. I can handle just about anything in connection with this private detective business, including you losing two front teeth, but I can’t handle us not being truthful with one another.”

  “Okay, here’s something I haven’t told you: I don’t think Baldur killed Kendra.”

  “What about those photos?”

  “I’m not saying they didn’t do kinky things. But when I spoke to him in the car just before he died, he was pretty convincing that he didn’t kill her.”

  “That leaves Chris.”

  “Baldur thought he did it.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think maybe that’s why I’m not telling you everything.”

  When they arrived back at Andy Rosse Lane, the front door opened as Freddie helped Tree out of the Mercedes. Chris, pale and grim, stepped into view.

  He said, “I drove up to see you, but you were kind of out of it.”

  “It’s all right, Chris,” Tree said.

  “I just want you to know that, Dad. I don’t want you to think I wasn’t there.”

  “Chris, it’s okay. It doesn’t make any difference.”

  “Yes, it does,” Chris said.

  They stood looking at each other and then, somehow, they were in each other’s arms. Tree held onto his son for dear life, and Chris kept repeating that he was sorry.

  They sat together on the terrace beside the pool, Freddie diplomatically fading away inside to prepare something to eat.

  Chris said, “You shouldn’t have done it, Dad. You shouldn’t have put yourself out there for me.”

  “Right now, all the evidence is pointing to Aksel Baldur, so I think we’re going to be okay.”

  “But you don’t believe he did it.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “But you know what no one else knows, don’t you, Dad? You know that when you came into the house, there I was sitting downstairs, and there she was upstairs, dead. You’re trying to protect me, I know, and you’ve done a pretty good job of it, but you keep thinking it must be Chris, it has to be my son. That’s the only logical explanation.”

  Tree didn’t say anything.

  Chris’s gaze remained steady, as steady as Tree had seen it for a long time. “I know how it probably looks, and I know I got myself into some pretty questionable things, okay? And the night you found me, I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  Tree felt his stomach drop. “What didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tied the belt around her neck.”

  “You what?”

  “It was a thing we did. For sex. She liked it. I liked it too, I suppose.”

  “You told me Kendra was dead when you found her.”

  “That wasn’t true,” Chris said. “I left for a half hour or so. After we finished making love, she said she w
as having trouble sleeping, she needed sleeping pills. Nothing too strong. Over-the-counter stuff. I drove to the drug store on the island, the one just off Periwinkle on Library Way, got something for her and then arrived back maybe three quarters of an hour later. That’s when I found her dead in the bedroom. I didn’t know what to do. I knew how it looked. I went downstairs, trying to think. That’s when you showed up.”

  Tree said, “The police are probably not going to believe you.”

  “I know that. But it’s the truth. It’s what I want to tell the police.”

  Freddie called them for dinner. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe he should talk to the police and get it over with, and put a stop to the lies.

  They went inside to Freddie and a lovely chicken dish for Chris—tomato soup for toothless Tree. How the conversation had changed, Tree reflected. Not long ago it was school and marks and how Chris’s mother was getting along; strained neutral topics to be sure, but the stuff of life. Now it was who might or might not be a killer. However, there remained one constant after a lifetime of conversations with his son: nothing was resolved.

  The telephone rang. Freddie rose to get it. She came back holding out the portable receiver. “You better take this.”

  The voice on the line said, “Hello, Mr. Callister, this is Elizabeth Traven speaking.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Traven.”

  “I’ve been released from jail.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I thought I’d phone and see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m coming along,” Tree said.

  “You’ve been through a rough time.”

  “What is it, Mrs. Traven? Why have you called?”

  “I was hoping we might get together,” she said.

  “Tonight?”

  “Depending on how you’re feeling, of course.”

  “I’m not feeling like seeing you tonight.”

  “Why don’t we say about eight o’clock.”

  The line went dead.

  49

  This time he did not linger outside the house on Captiva Drive. This time Freddie drove him straight through the open gates.

  Tree shivered, the way he would in a horror movie approaching the haunted house. A multitude of unwelcome revelations and a murder had all played out here. Tree steeled himself as Freddie came to a stop in front of the steps leading to the entrance.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Then don’t, my love.”

  “Well, I hate to say—”

  “What? A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do?”

  “I was thinking along simpler lines: I have to do this.”

  Freddie rolled her eyes. “You and Rex watch too many John Wayne movies. Do you want me to come in with you?”

  “Yes, but if it’s all right, I think you’d better wait here.”

  She kissed his mouth. “Come back in half an hour. If you don’t, I’m calling the police.”

  He got out of the car and went up the steps. As always, the stone Great Danes flanking the staircase watched him with impassive disdain. As he approached the entrance, the front door opened and T. Emmett Hawkins materialized. Tonight he wore a red bow tie with white polka-dots.

  “Good evening, Mr. Callister. Thanks for coming over at such short notice.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Inside. Waiting.”

  Tree felt as if he was floating through the interior. Nothing was real here. Everything was shadows and lies, the washing sea a sound effect in the distance. He drifted behind Hawkins into the living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows presented the final moments of the daily spectacle that was the sun dying. The sofa on which Brand Traven died had been removed. The space it occupied remained empty, a poignant reminder in case anyone tried to forget what happened in this room.

  Hawkins stepped away to reveal Elizabeth Traven in an armchair near the window. She wore a short tan skirt that showed off the legs Tree had tried so hard not to admire. The sun’s final rays set her beauty on fire.

  She looked up at him and said, “What happened to your front teeth?”

  “Everyone asks me that,” Tree said.

  “You don’t look good, Mr. Callister. You had better sit down.”

  “That’s all right,” Tree said. “I’d rather stand.”

  Elizabeth reached over and picked up a thick envelope from an end table. She tossed it to Tree. He fumbled the catch; the envelope dropped to the floor. Hawkins pointed a sausage-like finger.

  “There is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in there.”

  Tree addressed Elizabeth. “That’s too much.”

  “Given the cost of a good dentist these days, I don’t think so. It’s yours. Pick it up.”

  Tree did not touch the envelope. Elizabeth’s smile disappeared. “What’s the matter?”

  “You used me,” he said.

  “I hired you to watch my husband because I thought he was going to kill me. This Tony Dodge character was the evidence he was planning to do precisely that.”

  “And you didn’t kill Brand Traven?”

  “No, Mr. Callister, I didn’t. Thanks to your efforts, we now know that Kendra committed the crime.”

  “What about the sex trafficking?” Tree said.

  “You mean the business of providing attractive, willing young women for rich stupid men? If that’s a crime, it’s at the very bottom of a formidable list.”

  She waved her hand in the way she could when she wanted to be dismissive. “Besides, there is nothing to these allegations as far as I’m concerned.” She arose from her chair, majestic and beautiful in the fading light, her sensuality undiminished by a few weeks in jail.

  “Right now, I’d like nothing better than to put all this behind me, Tree. There is nothing to be gained for anyone in continuing these accusations and counter-accusations. You can help me put a stop to all this once and for all so we all can get back to our normal lives.”

  “I don’t see how I can help you, Mrs. Traven.”

  “The district attorney’s office continues to make threatening noises about this prostitution thing. It’s an irritant, really, but one that has to be addressed.”

  Tree waited. Hawkins cleared his throat. Elizabeth suddenly smiled and stepped forward and ran a soft hand across his cheek. “You look so stern and tense, Tree. It’s all right.”

  “What is it, Mrs. Traven?”

  She took her hand away. “It is Mr. Hawkins’ understanding that the police intend to charge your son with his wife’s murder. Is that correct, Mr. Hawkins?”

  Hawkins stepped forward and said, “I have it on good authority they will reduce the murder charge to manslaughter if Chris agrees to testify against Mrs. Traven in connection with these prostitution allegations.”

  “Chris didn’t kill his wife,” Tree said.

  “That’s unlikely to stop the police,” Elizabeth said.

  “What are you getting at?” Tree demanded.

  “There’s a check in that envelope for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That’s for you. There is another one hundred and fifty thousand if Chris agrees not to testify against me. Also in the envelope is the information I think you will need in order to identify the real killer.”

  Hawkins stooped and scooped the envelope off the floor. He straightened, red faced, and held it out to Tree. “Everything you need is in here,” he said.

  “What if you’re lying to me yet again?” Tree said to Elizabeth.

  “Then Chris will be arrested for murder, and I will be charged with running a prostitution ring,” Elizabeth said, “and we will both go to jail—you, too, maybe.”

  Hawkins said, “What’s it going to be, Mr. Callister? Do we have an agreement or not?”

  “Tree,” he heard Elizabeth Traven say. “What’s the matter? Why don’t you say something?”

  He stared at the envelope.

  50

  It took Freddie and Tree l
ess than an hour to reach Naples.

  A single light burned inside the house on Gulf Shore Boulevard. They got out of the Mercedes and went to the entrance. Freddie rang the doorbell. No movement came from the interior. Freddie rang again and when nothing happened, Tree turned the latch and the door swung open. They traded glances. Freddie pushed the door open further and called, “Ray? Ray are you here? It’s Freddie.”

  No answer. She entered the house, Tree following.

  They found the Ray Man sitting in an armchair facing the ocean. One of the upsides of death along the West Coast of Florida, Tree thought. You got a lot of sea views.

  Ray wasn’t looking at the sea tonight. His head was thrown back so that he stared at the ceiling, the result of having placed a silver-plated revolver in his mouth and then pulling the trigger. The gun lay on the hardwood floor, not far from the chair.

  The gunshot had blown the back of his skull over the headrest, bits and pieces flying across the room, splattering the wall. A pool of coagulated blood surrounded the chair. The Ray Man had been dead for a while.

  When she saw him, Freddie gasped and put her fist against her mouth and began to tremble. Tree held her, turning her away. “Oh, God,” Freddie said, and then repeated it several times.

  Tree led her outside. The moon was nearly full. The gentle sound of the Gulf of Mexico against the shore was in the distance. A breeze only added to the beauty of a Florida night. You should not be blowing your brains out on a night like this.

  Tree pulled out the envelope Elizabeth Traven had given him. He showed Freddie the typewritten pages. “It’s a list of the Red Rose clientele. Ray is on it. I guess that’s how he met Kendra.”

  “So he did know her.”

  “For close to a year. It looks like he went up to Chicago to visit her.”

  Freddie said, “What are you thinking?”

  “That’s why Kendra wanted to come here. Not because we were here, but because Ray was. She thought he would help her when Baldur came looking for her. And she was right, to a point.”

  “The question is, how did you find out about the two of them?”

  “By accident. I was following Brand Traven and I ended up at the Lani Kai Resort in Fort Myers Beach just as they came out together.”