“That sounds like the old man,” Evan said. “Any details of who he hired and how he plans to do it?”
“No, the P.I. hung up on him when it became obvious what he wanted.”
“And you don’t know if he found somebody else?”
“You know your father better than I—is he the sort of man who would stop with one attempt?”
Evan thought about that. “No, he isn’t.”
“Then, if I were you, I’d start watching my back.”
“That’s my job,” a female voice said.
Stone looked up to see Gigi Jones stepping out of the cabin, almost dressed in a tiny bikini that showed everything to great effect. “Yes, I’ve had some experience of that,” he said. “I’m glad I’m seated with my back to the water.”
Gigi giggled. “Don’t be nervous, Mr. Barrington. It appears we’re on the same side, both dedicated to keeping Evan alive.”
“I guess,” Stone said, then he turned back to Evan. “There’s more: Your grandfather likes the idea of selling the company, so he’s taking over negotiations himself. He’d like very much to hear from you. Will you call him?”
“Sure,” Evan said. “I’ve got nothing against him. Why do you think my father wants me dead?”
“You’ve seen the number on the sales contract,” Stone said. “Do you think he would kill you for your third of eight hundred million dollars?”
Evan shrugged. “I guess that’s motive enough. He’d kill my grandfather for that, too.”
“But then why would he bother to put him in a nursing home? Also, if you’re right about his poisoning your Uncle Harry, then he might hesitate to kill your grandfather, too.”
“Too many deaths by poisoning in one family, huh?”
“Yes, but if he had somebody put a bullet in you in Key West, he’s going to be far removed from the crime scene, isn’t he? You’d just be another rich boy who mingled with the wrong people, nothing to do with him.”
“I guess that would work for him,” Evan said.
“Tell me something: Do you think it’s possible your father had something to do with the killing of your friend Charley Boggs? Could a hit man have gotten the two of you mixed up?”
“I doubt that,” Evan said. “Charley had a beard, remember?”
“Maybe you’ve been in Key West for too long,” Stone said. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable in a different state.”
“Maybe,” Evan said. “How about it, babe?” he said to Gigi. “You ready to move on?”
“I like it here,” Gigi replied.
“As a matter of fact, so do I,” Evan said. “I guess I’ll take my chances.”
“Well, Evan,” Stone said, “you’re the only guy I know who, upon being told there was a contract out on him, would just sit tight and wait for a hit man to show up.”
“Stone, you had a pretty hard time finding me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, why do you think some stupid ex-con would have an easier time of it?”
“If he’s as stupid as you think, then he might not find you. Or he might get lucky. Or if he’s a real pro, he might find you faster than I did and you won’t see him coming.”
“Gigi will,” Evan said, smiling at her.
“I hope you’re right,” Stone said. “You’ve got your grandfather’s phone number?”
“I don’t expect it’s changed.”
“Then I’ll be saying goodbye, Evan; my work here is done.” Stone stood up.
“I guess it is, at that,” Evan said, offering him a hand. “Please don’t worry about me.”
Stone shook the hand. “I’ll try and put the whole business out of my mind,” he said. “But I’ll watch the business pages to see how the sale of Elijah Keating’s Sons turns out.”
“So will I,” Evan said. He went to the helm and started the engines.
“I’ll cast you off,” Stone said.
“Thanks.”
Stone walked down the dock and untied the bow line, the springs and the stern line, coiled them and tossed them to Gigi. He watched them ease out of the berth and turn toward the channel, and he noticed that there was no longer a name on the boat’s stern. He supposed Evan hadn’t thought of one yet. Stone walked back into the yacht club and to Tommy’s table.
“Your food’s getting cold,” Tommy said.
Stone tucked into his burger.
“So you all square with young Mr. Keating?” Dino asked.
“I’ve told him all the news from home,” Stone replied.
“And the news from Manny White?”
“Yep.”
“How’d he take it?”
“Like a champ,” Stone said. “Hardly batted an eye.”
“You know,” Tommy said, “if somebody told me there was a hit man coming for me, I think I’d be upset.”
“Upset enough to leave town?” Stone asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, Evan isn’t upset at all,” Stone said, “and he says he isn’t going anywhere. Maybe you’d better save him a slab at your morgue.”
“Oh, we’ve always got a vacant slab,” Tommy said. “And the rates are better than at the Gardens.”
“Cooler, too, I’ll bet,” Dino chimed in.
“Sometimes in summer,” Tommy said, “when the heat and the humidity are up and there’s no breeze, I’ve thought that a slab of marble might make a cool bed.”
“Brrrr,” Stone said, shivering. “Say, have you made any progress on the homicide of Charley Boggs?”
Tommy shook his head. “It was a clean crime scene, and the canvassing of the neighboring houseboats turned up nothing.”
“Not even the talkative lady next door?”
“Nope. Apparently, she sleeps well. One of these days we’ll bust somebody on a drug charge or something, and he’ll want to give us Charley’s killer in exchange for a walk.”
“That often happens,” Dino agreed.
“I guess,” Stone said.
30
THAT EVENING STONE drove slowly to Annika’s house, taking in Key West as he went. He felt oddly let down, having concluded his business with Evan Keating. He had no real purpose in Key West now, and he thought he might as well head home the next day. His business with Annika Swenson, however, did not seem to be concluded, and he was beginning to wonder if her idea of moving to New York mightn’t be a good one. As long as he paced himself.
The front door was open, and the sounds of good jazz wafted from somewhere in the house. “Hello!” he called out.
“Hello! I’m in the kitchen!” she shouted back. He found her there, stirring something in a pot, wearing a wraparound apron. “Smells good,” he said. “What are you cooking?”
“A venison ragout,” she replied.
“And where would you find venison in Key West? I hope you didn’t go out and shoot one of those lovely little Key deer; they’re protected, you know.”
“Of course not; I got it on the Internet, like anything else. You want Japanese blowfish? You want Iranian caviar? It’s all on the Internet, for delivery the next day.”
“I never thought of the Internet for food.”
“Oh, you can order all your groceries on the Internet,” she said.
“The freshest foods, all delivered to your door.”
“I wonder if you could order a hit man on the Internet?” he mused.
“What?”
“A hit man, an assassin.”
“Oh, I’m sure. I’ll bet there’s a website called hit man dot com or something.”
“If there is, you can be sure it’s operated by the FBI or a police department.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you see all these news stories on TV where somebody, a husband or wife usually, tries to hire a hit man to off the spouse, and he turns out to be a cop?”
“Yes, I have seen that story, now that you mention it. How can people be so stupid?”
“What’s stupid is trying to murder someone,
” Stone said. “Even if you got lucky and found a competent pro, it would always come back to bite you on the ass.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that people in jail solve an inordinate number of homicides.”
“How do they do that?”
“Let’s say you want to have me knocked off . . .”
“Knocked off what?”
“Knocked off my perch, capped, murdered.”
“Okay, let’s say.”
“Let’s say you wander into the right bar and somebody offers to buy you a drink, and the evening passes and you learn that this guy is willing to do unusual work for a price. You hire him to kill me . . .”
“How much would that be?”
“Almost anything: five hundred, ten thousand, whatever the traffic will bear.”
“Traffi c?”
“The free market.”
“Okay, I hire him to kill you, then what?”
“Then he kills me. He hangs around outside my house until I get home, then he shoots me and runs, gets away with it. You pay him off, and he’s happy, you’re happy.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“No, I’m not happy, I’m dead. Then some time passes—a year or two or five—and your hit man gets arrested on a completely unrelated charge.”
“Unrelated to what?”
“Unrelated to making me dead. Let’s say he gets caught trying to rob a liquor store, or maybe he makes a deal to kill somebody else, but the dealmaker is a cop.”
“Okay, let’s say.”
“So they’ve got him down at the police station, and they convince him that they’ve got him dead to rights, that they have all the evidence necessary to send him to prison for many years. But suddenly he says, ‘What if I could solve a bigger crime for you? A murder, maybe? Remember a guy named Barrington who was shot outside his house a few years back? I could give you the murderer, if you’ll give me immunity from prosecution.’”
“Prosecution for what?”
“For any crime he has committed.”
“The police will do that?”
“They do it all the time. They’ll say, okay, you’ve got immunity; who killed Barrington? ‘I did,’ he’ll say, ‘but Swenson hired me to doit; I was only a tool.’ And they can’t prosecute him. They can prosecute you, though.”
“They would do that?”
“Of course. All over the world, in every society, the greatest taboo of all is murder. We place a very high value on human life—that’s why we devote so much of our police resources to solving murders. That’s why there’s no statute of limitations. Once you’ve murdered someone—or paid to have someone murdered—you’re never safe again. They can always come and get you when the evidence turns up.”
“Well, that is very sobering,” Annika said. “Perhaps I won’t have you killed after all. What if I fuck you to death? Can they get me for that?”
Stone laughed. “Only if they could prove you intended to kill me, that maybe I had a heart condition and you knew I couldn’t stand the strain.”
“But not if I were just fucking you for several hours and you finally, ah, turned up your toes, I believe the expression is?”
“Annika, I think you’ve found a way to commit the perfect murder.”
“Well,” she said, taking off her wraparound apron and revealing herself to be naked from the waist down, “let’s get started now, and I can finish killing you after dinner, for dessert.”
AND SHE NEARLY DID. Much later Stone was lying in the fetal position, trying not to whimper, when his cell phone vibrated on the bedside table. “Humpf,” he managed to say.
“It’s Dino.”
“Who else?” Stone responded weakly.
“Take a couple of breaths and see if you can generate some adrenaline,” Dino said.
Stone did not take this advice. “I’m listening,” he said.
“Tommy called. Evan Keating is in the hospital; he’s been shot.”
Stone sat up on the side of the bed. “How bad?”
“I don’t know. Pick me up at the hotel in ten minutes; we’ll go together.”
“Right.” Stone closed the phone and looked at the sleeping Annika. It was just as well he got out before she woke up.
31
DINO WAS STANDING out in front of the Marquesa when Stone drove up. Following Tommy’s directions, they drove up to Stock Island and found the hospital. A hint of dawn was in the eastern sky.
Stone asked for Evan at the admitting desk.
“Are you a relative?” she asked.
“I’m his attorney,” Stone lied. “He asked for me.”
Tommy came out of a room down the hall and waved them in.
“Oh, go ahead,” the woman said.
Stone and Dino walked down the hall and stopped outside the room. “How is he?”
“He seems to be resting comfortably,” Tommy replied, “since the painkillers kicked in.”
“How bad?”
“He took it through the left shoulder. Somehow the angle allowed the slug to miss the heart and lung. He’s stable.”
“What kind of weapon?”
“Looks like a .223.”
“Sniper?”
“He was sitting in the cockpit of his boat with the Gigi dame, anchored off Key West Bight, having a late drink. The shot probably came from the shore, near one of the big hotels.”
“Telescopic sight?”
“We found the weapon in some bushes: M16 assault rifl e, well used. The sort of thing you’d find at a gun show.”
“Sounds like a pro. Anybody get a look at him?”
“Nope. Gigi emptied a nine-millimeter magazine in the general direction, scaring the hell out of everybody. I’m sure the guy looks like every other tourist in Key West. I mean, he wasn’t dressed all in black or wearing camos.”
“You think he’s still on the island?”
“We’ve alerted the state cops and the locals along Route One North, but more than likely he flew in, rented a car or scooter, and he’ll leave tomorrow the same way, along with five hundred other visitors. If we had the manpower to interview every one of them, we might be able to narrow it to a dozen, but of course we don’t. He’ll walk.”
“Or stay around for another shot?”
“Who knows?”
“People who hire hit men don’t pay for near misses,” Dino said.
“If he feels safe, he’ll try again. He might be in this hospital right now.”
“I’ll put a uniform on the door until they discharge him in the morning,” Tommy said. “Is there anybody to call?”
“I’m sure the shooter has already called Evan’s father,” Stone said wryly. “I’ll see that his grandfather hears about it. Can I see him?”
“It’s okay with me. Gigi’s with him, so watch your back.”
“That’ll be Dino’s job.” Stone knocked on the door, got a response and walked in, with Dino following. Evan was sitting with the bed cranked up, and Gigi was holding his hand.
“Good evening,” Evan said.
“Morning,” Stone replied. “How are you feeling?”
“Just swell,” Evan replied wanly. “Never better.”
“I hope you’ve reconsidered your position on relocating,” Stone said.
“Yes, but not just yet. I have some business to conclude. When do you plan to return to New York?”
“Soon. There’s nothing to keep me here now.”
“I’d like to keep you here for a few days,” Evan said. “I want to retain you as my attorney.”
“I’m not licensed in Florida,” Stone said.
“It won’t require any courtroom appearances,” Evan said. “Or if it does, I’ll hire somebody else. I want you here for a negotiation. I’ll pay you thirty thousand dollars for three, four days of your time. If it runs beyond that, I’ll pay you another thirty.”
Stone looked at Dino. “Can you hang around? I’ll pick up the hotel bill.”
“Why not?�
�� Dino said.
“All right.”
“Gigi,” Evan said.
Gigi picked up a shoulder bag that had been lying on the fl oor beside the bed, rummaged in it and came up with a stack of notes and handed it to Stone. It was three bundles of hundreds, in South Beach Security wrappers.
“Is this money clean?” Stone asked.
“It is.”
“I’ll have to fill out the relevant federal form when I deposit it in my bank.”
“I understand.”
“What do you want me to do now?” Stone asked.
“I’ve got your cell number. I’ll call you when we need to talk.”
“Have you spoken to your grandfather?”
“Not yet.”
“If you like, I’ll have someone notify him about this.”
“No, it would just worry him. He’s better off not knowing. I’ll tell him about it when this is over.”
“And when will that be?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“All right,” Stone said, stuffing bundles of cash into his pock-ets. “I’m your lawyer. If the police ask you any more questions of any kind, refer them to me. Talk to you later.” He and Dino left the room.
Tommy was standing outside talking to a uniformed offi cer. Stone took him aside. “Tommy, Evan has just retained me as his lawyer. I’m not entirely sure why, but in the meantime, please don’t ask him any more questions unless I’m present.”
“What’s the problem?” Tommy asked. “He hasn’t done anything.”
“I know, but in his condition I can’t go into all this with him. I assume you have both Evan’s and Gigi’s statements about the shooting?”
“Yeah.”
“That’ll have to do you for the moment. I’ll know more when I’ve had a chance to sit down with him when his head is clear.”
“Okay, Stone.”
“Thanks for having a cop out here.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Stone and Dino left the hospital and went back to their car.
“There’s an IHOP on our way back; you want to get some breakfast?”
“Sure.”
“You’re buying,” Dino said.
Loitering with Intent sb-16 Page 11
