Fallen Palm (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

  “No, just trying to conserve water, is all,” I replied as I held her close and kissed her, with the water pouring down over us.

  She broke away and said, “Get cleaned up, we have a lot to do today.” Then she stepped out of the shower. I did as I was ordered and once we were both dressed, we walked to her Jeep, with the dog following beside me.

  “First stop, the vet,” I said. “I called ahead and they’re open. They have a lot of animals that were displaced by the storm and said they’d do the check for a microchip, but they wouldn’t be able to board him. So, we’ll have to take him with us up to Fort Pierce. That okay?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better behaved dog in my life. You know, when he and I got back to the boat, he followed me aboard, but when I started to undress in the cabin, he turned and walked out. Very gallant.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real gentleman, that one,” I said. “Is there such a thing as gay dogs?” Alex jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow as we walked to the Jeep.

  We got to the vet’s office and one of the assistants checked him over top to bottom, stem to stern with an electronic gizmo that was supposed to detect any imbedded microchip and didn’t find one.

  “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one,” the assistant said. “They only have a lifespan of three or four years. But, he looks to be only about two or three years old, at the most. My guess is that he’s never been chipped.”

  “Well, thanks, anyway,” I said. “Guess we can run an ad in the local papers. Maybe his owner will respond.”

  “If you don’t find the owner,” she said, “he’d make a great boat dog, Captain McDermitt. You know he’s a Portuguese water dog, right? I’d bet he’s a pure bred, too.”

  We left the vets office and got in the Jeep for the long drive up through the Keys to the mainland and on up the coast to Fort Pierce.

  “Let’s take Card Sound Road,” Alex suggested, as we drove through Key Largo. “We can stop for lunch at Alabama Jack’s. I haven’t been in there in a while.”

  The trip up through the middle and upper Keys took a while, due to all the work on the power lines and downed trees. We made it to the Card Sound Bridge about 1100. After eating an early lunch on the deck overlooking the water, we got back on the road. I truly hate driving through Miami at any time of the day. The interstate is always crowded. People going to or from the Keys or the beach and surface streets are always packed with people going to and from work. There’s really no way to dodge it, but the Sawgrass Expressway at least thins the herd some because it’s a toll road. It starts in Florida City, where Card Sound Road joins US-1 and winds through Cutler Ridge and Kendall, before striking out due north, separating the city of Hialeah and the Everglades. It then turns east and joins interstate 95 and the Florida Turnpike. We took the Turnpike to avoid more traffic, because it too is a toll road. A couple of hours later, we got off the interstate at highway 70 and headed into Fort Pierce.

  19

  Wednesday, October 26, 2005

  The first order of business was at the Saint Lucie County Sheriff’s Office, to pick up Russ’s boat and dive gear. I looked it up online, before we left. So, I had a good idea where it was. We took the Midway Road exit, off the interstate and found it just a couple miles toward town. Alex parked the Jeep and we went inside. Deuce had called ahead to both the Sheriff and the apartment manager to clear the way for us. I introduced myself to the desk Sergeant who said he’d been expecting us and made a call. A few minutes later, a young Patrol Deputy wearing a name badge that said ‘Andrews’ arrived and took us to the impound lot, in back of the building. It was mostly full of cars and pickups, but there were a number of boats, too.

  “Should be right down this row,” the Deputy said, leading us down the second row of cars. “I have the inventory sheet and once you check out the boat, I’ll take you to where we stored everything that was aboard and you can put it back in the boat to tow home. Were you a relative?”

  “We served together,” I replied. “His son’s not able to pick his stuff up, so he asked me to.”

  “Army?” he asked.

  “Marines,” I replied.

  “Here it is,” Deputy Andrews said, pointing out a dirty, twenty-foot Grady White center console, with a bimini top, on an aluminum trailer. I walked around to the stern, looking it over. It had a two hundred-fifty horse Yamaha four stroke hanging on the back that looked to be only a year or two old. The boat itself was probably five years old or more, but would clean up nice. The smoked glass cabinet door that housed the electronics was open and empty.

  “He kept his boat at a marina,” I said. “Where’d the trailer come from?”

  “Fort Pierce Inlet Marina,” he replied. “When the Marine Patrol towed it in, that’s where they docked. The manager there recognized the boat and said he stored the trailer with them too, because they didn’t allow trailers at his apartment complex.”

  “Okay, everything looks alright,” I said. “Let’s get the gear.”

  Andrews took us in through a back door, down a hall to a door marked ‘Evidence Locker’, and opened it. Inside was a cage, with a door and another Deputy sitting just inside, working on a computer.

  “Halston,” the Deputy said, “these are the folks come for Russell Livingston’s property.”

  Halston got up from his desk and said, “Gimme just a minute.” He disappeared down one of the rows of metal shelves, and then returned pushing a wheeled cart. He unlocked the cage door and wheeled it out.

  Andrews handed me a clipboard and said, “Check over the inventory, then sign on the bottom.”

  I went over the list of items on the clipboard, matching everything on it to what was on the cart. “Where’s the GPS? And car keys,” I asked.

  Andrews took the clipboard and looked over the inventory list, then said, “No GPS on the list, Mister McDermitt. Only keys found were in the boats ignition”

  “I can see that Deputy,” I said. “But, there was one on the boat, I saw the wiring and mount for it and he lived a good seven miles from the marina. Doubtful he walked there.”

  “Hang on,” he said. “The Deputy that inventoried the boat is a buddy of mine. I’ll give him a call.” He went over by the door and was talking on his cell phone for a few minutes, while I finished checking everything on the inventory list.

  He walked back over to us and said, “Avery, my buddy that did the inventory, said there was no GPS on the boat, and no car keys found anywhere on the boat or body, when he inventoried it. Said it struck him as unusual, so he checked the report and pictures that were taken at the scene, when the Marine Patrol found the body. He said the pictures showed the cabinet open and no GPS inside. He checked with the marina manager who told him the victim’s car, an older model Ford pickup, was not in the lot. Might’ve been stolen, but without anyone to file a complaint he didn’t pursue it further.”

  I signed the inventory list and handed the clipboard back to Andrews. He took the bottom copy off and handed it back to me. “We can wheel this out to the boat, while your wife pulls your car around back to hook up to the boat.” Both Alex and I ignored his assumption.

  Fifteen minutes later, we had everything loaded on the boat, had it hitched to the Jeep and left the Sheriff’s Office. Alex turned to me, as we made our way east on Midway, toward US-1 and said, “Any chance your friend forgot his GPS?”

  “Not a chance,” I replied. “Besides, it wasn’t a hand held, it was mounted. He’d have had to intentionally remove it.”

  I’d been to Russ’s place a few times several years ago, but it had been a while. We finally found the apartment complex just off of US-1, and went to the manager’s office. I explained who I was and the manager said that Deuce had called ahead to tell them I would be there today. She gave me a key to the apartment and told us where it was located. She said they had a good assortment of boxes for sale, for whenever a tenant moved and she’d be happy to provide whatever we needed. I doubt
ed it’d be very much. She also gave me a list of the furnishings that were provided by the apartment complex and cautioned me to not take anything on the list.

  “We’re in a Jeep, ma’am,” I said. “If anything, there may be a piece of furniture or two we’ll leave behind. All the family wants is his personal affects. Is his pickup in the lot, by any chance?”

  “No,” she replied. “It hasn’t been since the police came, the day he drowned.”

  We left the office and went to the apartment where Russ had lived by himself for the last ten years. I unlocked and opened the door and was immediately shocked at what I saw. I cautioned Alex to back away from the door and slowly pushed it open further. The living room was trashed. Everything was knocked over and strewn all about the place.

  “Stay here,” I said and slowly entered the apartment, while drawing my Sig from the holster at the small of my back. I went through the living room, stepping around overturned furniture, following the sights of the Sig. I looked across the countertop into the kitchen, and then slowly made my way down the hall. There were only two doors and both were open. The one on the right was the bathroom. Everything in the medicine cabinet was knocked to the floor and the shower curtain was open. I crossed the hall and peeked into the bedroom. It too had been thoroughly tossed, but nobody was there. I went back to the door and told Alex she could come in. She came through the door, with the dog following behind her.

  “What happened here?” she asked.

  “Someone’s been here before us,” I replied. “It looks like they were looking for something. I have no idea what, though.”

  “Should we call the police?” she asked, standing in the middle of the living room.

  “No,” I said. “Not yet, anyway. Let’s look around and see if we can find out what they were looking for. Thieves usually go straight for the bedroom. That’s where most people keep their valuables. Whoever did this, it looks like they started in here.”

  All the cushions were off the couch and the small cocktail table was flipped over. In the kitchen, all the cabinets were open and what little was in them now lay on the floor.

  “What we’re looking for is where this mess ends,” I said. “Once they found whatever they were looking for, they would have stopped looking.”

  Since the living room and kitchen showed signs of every nook and cranny having been tossed, we went back to the bedroom. Both nightstands were open and everything in them lay on the floor. Same with the dresser. The closet, however, was only partially trashed.

  “Here,” I said. “This is where whoever tossed this place found what they were looking for.”

  “What do you suppose it was,” she asked.

  “Treasure, would be my guess. Russ was a treasure hunter and had found quite a bit of it over the years. Not enough to get rich, by any stretch. But enough that he didn’t have to work very often. He did some security consulting for a few companies on the side, but he spent most of his time under water. He was kind of obsessed with it. I know he kept meticulous records in a journal and probably had a few pieces that he hung onto. My guess is anything of value was stored on the closet shelf up there, along with his journal, which I don’t see anywhere. Notice how the clothes are still hanging and everything in the bottom of the closet is untouched?”

  “Okay,” she said. “So somebody came in and robbed him, after he drowned. What good would the journal be, though?”

  “It had dates and GPS locations of places he’d searched,” I replied. “I’d helped him a few times and I’m pretty sure my name was mentioned in it.”

  Lester, the muscle head, I thought. He obviously had the strength to kill with his bare hands. But, could he take out a Recon Marine, trained in hand to hand and underwater fighting? Maybe, I thought. If said Marine was older and slower and trusted him. I wanted to have a talk with this Lester. But how to find him? I’d just sent him and Baldy on a wild goose chase to Miami. I wasn’t even sure if he lived here in Fort Pierce. One thing was certain, they were looking for me. Maybe I’d just have to let them find me.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s call the cops and report this. Once they get here and take a report, we can clean up this mess and box up his belongings.”

  The cops arrived about thirty minutes later. I’d told them there was no hurry, that whoever had robbed my friend’s apartment was long gone. Fort Pierce, being a small town, did their best to look professional. A crime scene unit arrived a few minutes after the first two patrol cars and they took dozens of pictures and fingerprints. I doubted they’d be able to find who it was, though.

  The lead investigator asked, “Did either of you touch anything?”

  “Only the door knob,” I replied. “When we walked in, we had no idea there’d been a break in.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it a break in,” he said. “There’s no sign anywhere of forced entry. My guess is whoever did this had a key. A disgruntled ex-wife, maybe?”

  “No,” I replied. “His ex lives in Philly and hadn’t had any contact with him for several years. I really don’t know if he’d been involved with anyone else.”

  “Been?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Russell Livingston, they guy that lived here, drowned in West Palm a couple weeks ago. You didn’t know that?”

  “News to me,” he replied. “So, what are you two doing here, then?”

  “His son’s in the service. He contacted me, knowing that Russ and I were friends and asked me to come up and box up his belongings, to send to him.”

  One of the forensics guys interrupted, saying, “Judging from the mold on the leftovers that were tossed out of the fridge, I’d guess this happened at least ten to twelve days ago, Sergeant.”

  “Where were you ten to twelve days ago, Mister McDermitt?” the Sergeant asked.

  “At home probably,” I replied angrily. “On an island about 270 miles south of here.”

  “You live in Cuba?” he asked.

  “The Content Keys,” I replied. “North of Big Pine Key. That’s in Florida. And before you ask, she was in Oregon. You’re the lead investigator?”

  The Sergeant looked around and said, “Okay, wrap it up, guys. Looks like this is just a random breakin. Probably left the door unlocked.”

  “Are you for real?” I said.

  “Mister McDermitt,” the Sergeant said, “we have pictures and prints. It happened more than a week ago, not much chance of the perp being anywhere close by. We’re done here.”

  The forensic team packed up their gear and followed the Sergeant out the door. They loaded their gear in their vehicles and left.

  “You do have a way with people,” Alex said, watching them drive away.

  “Guys were imbeciles,” I said. “That Sergeant couldn’t pour water out of a boot, with the directions written on the sole. Let’s go get a few boxes from that manager and get this mess cleaned up.”

  It took us the whole afternoon and evening to get everything boxed up and the furniture set back to right. We decided to get a room and drive back to Marathon in the morning. After we ate at a nearby restaurant, we checked in at a pet-friendly Holiday Inn near the interstate, just a half mile from Russ’s apartment. Sitting at the table in the room, I was wondering how I could find Lester and Baldy. More to the point, I was wondering how I could let them find me and at the same time, keep Alex at a safe distance. I still had the channel to dig this weekend and I’d called Deuce while we were waiting for the cops, to let him know what had happened. He told me there were only two things of value that he knew about. One was a Spanish doubloon on a gold chain that Russ usually wore. The other was a gold cross, with three imbedded rubies, and a spot where a fourth had been. He said he’d be able to come back down this weekend and asked if I’d be available to go out to Conrad Reef.

  “We need to find out who did this,” Alex said. “And I’m going with you.” I thought, how does she keep reading my mind like that? I knew it was futile to argue with her, but I wanted her to know
everything. So, I told her about Russ having told Deuce about his new muscle bound dive partner Lester, then my meeting him at Dockside, looking for me of all people and how I’d sent them on a wild goose chase down to Miami.

  “So, you think this guy Lester killed Deuce’s father?” she asked. Her intuitive powers had always scared me. Maybe that’s why she’s such a great fishing guide, I thought. She knows what the fish are going to do, before they do it.

  “Yeah, I do,” I replied. “Just don’t know why.”

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me. “You’re going to set yourself up as bait, aren’t you?”

  “Dammit, Alex, stop doing that,” I laughed.

  Playing innocent, she said, “Stop doing what?”

  “Reading my damn mind. How do you do that?”

  “Men are easy to read, that’s all. Not much different than fish really.”

  “You’re doing it again,” I said, as I walked over and lifted her to her feet. “You really scare me sometimes, lady. Let’s get a shower. Pescador, watch the car.” The dog actually walked over to the window and nosed the curtain open, so he could look outside.

  “Unbelievable,” Alex said.

  20

  Thursday, October 27, 2005

  We got up early and started back. A thought had come to me when I got up before sunrise and started the coffee maker in the room. It seemed that Lester and Baldy were very intent on finding me and had mentioned going to Miami in order to do so. Since I’d pointed them toward the Rickenbacker docks, they’d probably be holed up near there, waiting for my return. Would they stay until I did return, was the question.

  The docks on the Rickenbacker were only a couple of miles out of the way if we took Interstate 95, instead of the Sawgrass, but since they’d seen me, I’d have to be careful looking around for them. Odds are they wouldn’t be sitting in a car, too hard to see the end of the docks. My guess, they’d be on a boat at one of the docks, so they could spot the Revenge coming in.