Cap's Place: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 1)

by Robert Tarrant

  Sissy changed into one of those oversized tee shirts she seemed to favor around the house and started putting together dinner from the remaining haphazard components we had assembled during our unfocused shopping trips. She turned toward me and smiled, “Hey, make yourself useful and set the table. Let’s eat on the patio. It’s very pleasant out there tonight.”

  I feigned pain and replied, “Okay, but don’t get used to this. When we get back to Cap’s I’m the boss.”

  She looked up at me with a coy smile, dropping her shoulder causing the tee shirt to slide farther down her arm nearly, but not quite, baring what was obviously a braless breast, and said, “Of course you’re the boss Jack.”

  I held my hand up pointing my finger as in a lecture and said as sternly as I could muster while on the verge of laughing, “Not fair. Just not fair.”

  Sissy took a step toward me, reached out and took my extended finger in her hand and brought it to her lips gently kissing the end. “Oh, I know it’s not fair. You’re in this game way over your head Mr. Jackson Nolan. Too bad for you, you’re only now realizing that fact.”

  After dinner, we were sitting on the patio soaking in the humid warmth punctuated by the occasional gust of evening breeze. Sissy asked, “I wonder if PJ will have any luck investigating Dockery? You do believe he’s behind this whole mess don’t you?”

  “Everything we came up with makes sense. It seems to fit. Dockery certainly had motive. We just don’t know anything about opportunity.”

  Sissy cocked her head to one side, “What do you mean by opportunity?”

  “Well, how did he do these things? It’s one thing to be motivated to do something, it’s another to have the ability to carry out your desires. I can’t believe he committed those murders himself. We know he wasn’t the one who attacked you. So he must have hired someone. How’d he do that?”

  “Don’t people do that all the time? Seems like I’ve read several articles in the paper over the years about people who hired someone to commit murder.”

  I nodded in agreement, “Yes, and the reason you read about it in the paper is because they got caught. Sometimes the person ends up talking to an undercover cop thinking he’s a killer for hire. Sometimes they hire someone who turns out to be so stupid that the whole plot is obvious. That’s my point, most people don’t know how to hire a real professional killer. I certainly wouldn’t.”

  Sissy pondered, “I wonder if Dockery does?”

  “Good question, let’s see what more we can learn about Mr. Dockery.” With that I went into the bedroom and got my laptop. After watching Justin doing all of his research, I’d thought it might be a good idea if I had my laptop and had picked it up when I stopped at Cap’s to change clothes before the Dockery meeting.

  It didn’t take long to find plenty of information about Charles Dockery on the internet. Sissy had dragged her chair up next to mine so she could look over my shoulder. Most links took us to articles written by Dockery or articles that referenced an article he had written. Most of his articles seemed to assert some type of nefarious conspiracy or another. Basic journalism overwrought with sensationalism. More flash than substance.

  Sissy had gotten bored and gone in to get us a couple of drinks when I hit pay-dirt. Three years ago Dockery had written an article about contract murder in South Florida. Much of the article was a rehash of incidents of contracted murder that had taken place over the past couple of decades but it also contained what Dockery alleged were interviews with actual killers for hire. He asserted that several notable murders in South Florida were carried out by hired killers from the New York and New Jersey area. Duh! That itself was not significant. Significant was that Dockery claimed to have met with three separate killers who gave him insight into the processes employed in “putting out a contract” on someone. Bam! Dockery had both motive and means.

  As we sipped the scotch Sissy brought out, I explained what I found. She asked, “I wonder if PJ knows this?”

  “Good question. I don’t know how much background they’ll do on Dockery before they try again to talk to him.”

  “Can we send it to her? Maybe email it to her.”

  I thought about that for a minute. I wasn’t sure I wanted PJ to know that we were investigating Dockery, even on the internet. She had been very direct in her orders to me. On the other hand this could be very useful insight before the were face to face with him. What the hell Jack, go for it. How could internet research be construed as interference? I signed into my email, pasted the relevant parts of the article and the link into a message that clearly stated that we were going no closer to Dockery than the public internet, and sent it to the email address listed on PJ’s business card.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Tuesday dawned clear and bright. I had slept better than anytime the past week. Sissy and I had coffee and breakfast on the patio. It was nearly ten and Sissy had gone in to shower and I thought I might as well give PJ a call. Feeling that the threat was less imminent, had even dissipated, I decided to use my own cell phone. PJ was not at her desk so I left her a voicemail message. Thinking she might be out and not get to her office messages for some time, I called her cell phone, but she didn’t answer so I left a second message.

  As I was ending the call to PJ, the cell phone Justin had given me started to chirp. It was Justin. I told him about the information on Dockery we found on the Internet and sent to PJ but that I hadn’t heard back from her yet. Justin sounded pleased with my detective work and told me that he expected to be back sometime in the afternoon.

  A few minutes later my cell phone buzzed. It was PJ. She told me that she had seen my email and appreciated the research we had done. She told me that she and Tim had gone to Dockery’s apartment this morning to again attempt to interview him, but had found Fort Lauderdale PD there investigating an apparent suicide. Dockery had taken a header from his 15th story balcony. Because of the height of the railing around the balcony they believed he had jumped but from the number of empty liquor bottles in the apartment and the strong odor of alcohol on his body it was always possible that somehow he had accidentally fallen.

  I was stunned. Dockery certainly didn’t seem suicidal when I had talked with him two days ago. Of course, isn’t that what people always say after a suicide. Besides, I certainly believed he could have drunk himself into a suicidal depression. He was obviously a boozer.

  The investigators had seized his computer and several flash drives. They had dug deeply into his life and found significant sums of money moving into and out of his bank account around the dates of the murders of Allison and Weston. They had not yet found his source for the money, but were investigating from the premise that, regardless of the source, it was money he had used to pay for the murders. Among the flash drives they had seized from his apartment was one that contained numerous documents written by Allison and so it was believed to be the flash drive Sissy had mentioned Allison used to back up her work.

  Once I understood the ramifications of what PJ was telling me I ask her if there was any reason Sissy needed to continue to hide. She said that she saw no reason why we couldn’t go back to our lives.

  My reservations about Justin’s story concerning the guy coming to the guest house were still nagging at me. I asked PJ if they knew any more about the guy who had been seen leaving the parking lot of Cap’s and turning in the rental car. She said that they had verified that the vehicle was captured on the license plate readers leaving Pinnacle shortly after the attack on Sissy. She had told us that on Sunday, so I pressed and asked what the bogus name was on the rental car agreement. I could tell by the pregnant pause that PJ was wondering why I was asking, so I told her that I thought I would look through the credit card records at Cap’s and see if the name turned up. After another lengthy pause, she gave me the name. I told her I would check and let her know if I found anything. What I really wanted to do was figure out a way to find out if Justin knew the same name.

  I told PJ that I wo
uld keep her posted about where Sissy was going, back to her apartment or to Cap’s, or wherever. She promised me she would keep us posted on any significant developments in the investigation. At the end of the conversation, PJ expressed her gratitude for everything I’d done for Sissy during this time. I wasn’t confident her expression of gratitude would have been as warm if she’d really known everything I’d done for Sissy.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Sissy and I didn’t have much packing to do but we wanted to clean and tidy the house up some before we left. I knew that Maria would give it a thorough cleaning after we left but didn’t want to impose any more than we already had. There weren’t many cleaning supplies, I guess the people who usually stay don’t do much cleaning, but at least we did a cursory job. We were just finishing when Justin returned. I hadn’t really expected him for a few more hours. This would be great, we could get out of here as quickly as Justin packed up his equipment. This had been a wonderful place to hide Sissy but now that we had made the decision to leave I just couldn’t get out fast enough.

  I met Justin in the driveway and told him everything PJ had told me. Initially, he was his usual stoic self but as I wrapped up the story he began to nod his head and I thought I detected the slightest of smiles. His only comment was, “Well, I guess that’s that. Let’s get packed up and get out of here.”

  I helped Justin collect the intrusion detection equipment and pack each unit away in its individual hard sided carrying case. Then we went inside where Justin collapsed the telescoping legs of the control unit and closed the lid of its case. The whole process from Justin’s arrival until we had everything stowed in the trunk of his car was about ten minutes. I gave him back the cell phone he had loaned me. Justin was all business today. Obviously, he was ready to be free of this place too.

  Justin and I went back inside and he gave Sissy a big hug goodbye and told her he’d see her around Cap’s. Sissy thanked him profusely for all of his help but he just shrugged it off with something about “that’s what friends are for.” I followed Justin out to his car, and as casually as I could asked, “Did your sources learn any more about the alias the guy who came after Sissy was using? Anything I should be passing on to the cops?”

  Justin replied, “No, really nothing the cops haven’t already told you.”

  Again attempting to maintain my casual demeanor, “What was the alias he was using?”

  Justin turned from the open door of his car to face me directly. After a lengthy pause he asked, “Why do you ask? What difference does it make?”

  Keeping my lies consistent I replied, “I thought I would look through the credit card receipts at Cap’s and see if the name shows up. Maybe figure out how much he was around and when.”

  Justin’s face remained frozen, “What difference does that make? He won’t be coming back.”

  I improvised, “Yeah, yeah, I know that, but our whole theory is based on him working alone. What if there was someone else involved? I don’t think there was anyone else, but I don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”

  “Isn’t that better left to the cops?”

  “It’s a real long shot and I hate to distract them from Dockery, so I thought I would just poke around in our records at Cap’s.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.” With that Justin got in and shut the car door. Without looking back at me, he started the car and backed around to head out the driveway. I was still standing at the end of the walk as he started down the drive. He had only gone about twenty feet when he backed up and stopped directly in front of me. He put down the power window on the passenger side of the car and leaned across the seat. I bent down looking in at him and he spoke the name PJ had given me only an hour earlier. Now I know. In many ways, I wish I didn’t.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  I was sitting in my usual spot at the end of the bar. It was mid-afternoon on a beautiful South Florida day, but I chose to stay right here. It had been more than a month since Sissy and I had returned to Cap’s and with each passing day it seemed as if the nightmare was fading for both of us. The events associated with the whole mess continued to unfold but they were distant from us and no longer consuming our lives. The investigation had gotten regular coverage in the media with the general spin negative toward Dockery. He was being portrayed as a mediocre reporter with illusions of grandeur. One enterprising reporter had even gone so far as to call into question the truth of some of Dockery’s previous investigative reports. It was rapidly becoming a media feeding frenzy. Unfortunately, each new report again aired the footage of Allison’s car being winched from the canal. That footage always cast a dark cloud over the crowd of regulars at Cap’s and left Sissy in a funk for the next few hours.

  One day, I saw a report on the news about a terrorist plot that had been broken up by federal agents and I remembered my meeting with Dockery and his “conspiracy theory.” While the issues Dockery talked about were intriguing, it was now obvious that he was one of those right wing nuts looking for a government conspiracy under every rock. Besides, anyone capable of double murder certainly can’t be considered credible.

  My rumination was interrupted by Marge and Moe coming out of the office engaged in serious conversation about an upcoming promotional event they were planning for this weekend. I had promoted Marge to manager of Cap’s. If Cap’s had a manager previously I guess it had been me so the standards for her success in the position were fairly low. It was obvious when I returned from the week away that the place was running smoother than it had ever run. Probably even smoother than the days Mickey ran it. Although I couldn’t be real certain because when Mickey was alive I didn’t pay much attention beyond the temperature of the Landshark. I decided we should institute the same structure going forward that had run the place the week I was gone. Marge is manager and Moe is her right hand man. Marge has hired a couple of additional bartenders and Sissy seems to fill some type of role as “senior bartender” setting standards and controlling operations behind the bar. She seems happy with the arrangement and she and Marge are getting along fine in this new relationship.

  Marge consults me on major issues but I have learned to listen closely to her recommendations as they usually are very well thought out and provide a sound course of action. Day-to-day operations are solely Marge’s jurisdiction. I love the fact that I no longer need to arbitrate scheduling conflicts between high strung emotional waitresses or try to communicate with non-english-speaking produce suppliers. I do remain “gopher in chief” running errands at the behest of both Moe and Marge. I also refused to give up my reserved parking in the “no parking” space in front of the dumpster. Ownership does have some privileges.

  The edge seems to be gone from Moe’s attitude, at least most of the time. The other night he and I sat on the seawall at the back of the parking lot smoking cigars and reminiscing about Detroit. Some of his stories made me laugh out loud and a couple nearly brought tears to my eyes. He has certainly experienced the highs and lows of life. His attitude has changed enough that I came in the back door the other afternoon and found him talking football with Tim. Sissy was talking with PJ and Moe was engaged in a lively conversation with Tim comparing the Lions and the Dolphins.

  In the days immediately following our return to Cap’s, PJ had stopped in several times to check on Sissy and provide what information she could on the investigation into Dockery. While PJ said they didn’t see any reason Sissy and I couldn’t come out of hiding, I had the feeling that they we keeping a fairly close eye on us.

  During one of her updates PJ told us that Mrs. Feldman had tentatively identified the picture of the guy on the security footage at Pinnacle as the one who was at Sissy’s apartment looking for her. PJ felt that the identification was as firm as you could expect from someone Mrs. Feldman’s age. Nothing had turned up on the guy seen at Cap’s talking to Allison the night she was killed. PJ theorized that he may not have been involved but may have met up with Allison sometime between her leavin
g Cap’s and the time she was killed so they would continue to look for him in case he could provide any information pointing toward the killer.

  A couple of times PJ and Tim even stopped in to grab a sandwich. Then lo-and-behold one evening, the two of them and a couple of other Hollywood cops stopped in for a beer after work. PJ introduced the other two as Randy and Vic and told me they’re uniform sergeants. Randy and Vic have been in a couple of times since. Who knows, maybe Cap’s will again become a “cop bar.”

  I haven’t seen Justin since he left the guest house. He, nor Captain Bob, have been in since. At least not while I’ve been here. I asked Sissy the other day if she had seen Justin and she said she hadn’t but that one of the other fishermen had mentioned that Captain Bob had taken some long term fishing charter job out of Key West. In some ways it was easier not seeing Justin. At least it gave me the chance to attempt to trick my conscience into believing that I wasn’t withholding from the cops material information regarding a murder. To date, I’ve been less than successful but I’m making progress. After all, what’s the real harm in removing a killer for hire from this world?

  I felt as if my life had finally stabilized. If only I’d known what was ahead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Justin sauntered out of the Hollywood Beach Party Store, shouldering the door open, with his can of beer in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other. He poured the beer into the cup and dropped the empty can in the trash bin as he made his way to the last row of seats facing the Hollywood Bandshell. The crowd was sparse tonight and the row was empty so Justin sat down near the aisle. He settled against the back of the aluminum bench and took a drink of his beer. The group performing in the bandshell was a Beatles cover band so the crowd, sparse though it was, was really into the music. Justin looked around and took note of the fact that, with few exceptions, he was probably thirty years younger than everyone else. Made no difference, the evening sky over the ocean was a peaceful pale blue in the fading light, the sea breeze was warm and the beer was cold. In his cargo shorts, tee shirt and deep tan he was just another beach bum enjoying the end of the day.