Troy frowned. “What’s that?”
“Guy’s name is Donald Haslip,” Juan said. “Owns Diver Down and everyone calls him Donald Duck, on account of the water thing.”
“Whatever. Guess I’m still learning. I’ll send two people with you, stand guard for gators.”
“Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Why I’m the chief.”
“On probation,” Juan said with a grin.
“On probation. Don’t get chomped. Might affect my performance rating.”
“I wouldn’t like it much, either.”
“What about decompression?” Troy said.
“That shallow? Don’t even worry about it. Just keep the snakes and gators off me.”
“Cottonmouths don’t much bother people in the water,” Troy said.
“Right. I’ll tell myself that next time one slithers up my wetsuit leg.”
Troy called in Angel Watson, who was on evenings in August, and Bubba Johns who was still doing the day shift. He sent the three officers off to search for a bicycle, Angel and Bubba with the two department rifles. He was burning the overtime at both ends, he thought, between this and the hurricane.
He asked June to call in Calvin Smith. Smith was off-duty and showed up almost an hour later in civilian clothes. Smith kept his uniforms and duty belt in his wall locker in the station locker room. Troy had already cleaned out Smith’s locker and taken possession of the gun and badge.
“Got extra work for me?” Smith asked.
“Sit down.”
Smith sat. “What’s going on?” he said. “Heard about how you blew that guy away. That must have been fun. Wish I’d been there.”
Troy decided to ignore that. “Talked to some tourists over at the Gulf View,” Troy said. “They say you forced them to write their social security numbers on their foreheads.” Troy pointed to a stack of paper on the corner of his desk. “Got written statements from a dozen of them.”
“You told us to do that.”
“Said you pulled your gun on them at one point.”
“Damn tourists don’t like to listen. I needed to get their attention. Worked. They all got numbers by the time the storm hit.” Smith laughed.
“Did you also get them all to sign the forms I gave you?” Troy asked.
“Sure did. I’m a bear for paperwork. Turned all those in to Angel.” He looked at Troy’s expression. “It there a problem?”
“I had told you to tell those people about the forms and, if they allowed it, to write their numbers on their foreheads. I didn’t say anything about pulling a gun and forcing them to do all that.”
“So what? I’m just extra careful when following orders.”
Troy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, not any more. What you are, as of this moment, is fired.”
“What? What for?”
“I’ll write it all up and see that a copy is mailed to you,” Troy said. “I’ve already opened your locker and cleaned out the equipment. As it happens all your uniforms were paid for by the department, so we’re keeping those too.” He reached down and picked up a large Ziploc baggie. “Personal items, some clean underwear, shoes, socks, and a couple of candy bars. These belong to you.” He handed the bag to Smith.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Smith said. He stood and, leaning across the desk, waved the bag in Troy’s face. Troy decided that this was not the best time to bring up the no-swearing rule. “I’ll get you for this. Nobody messes with me. Fuck with the bull, you get the horns.”
“Smith, go get another job and put this one behind you. You just didn’t have the temperament for it. Doesn’t mean you cannot be effective at something else. But, as for ‘getting me,’ I would suggest that you take a few days to think it over and read the letter I’ll be sending to you. Now, if you don’t mind, you have a life to live and so do I. Let’s both get on with it. You may leave now.”
Smith stormed out. June came back to Troy’s office a moment later. “What was Calvin so steamed about? He swore at me and didn’t leave any money in the jar.”
“June, you need to make a new schedule for August. I fired him.”
She nodded. “About time, too. He was a loose cannon.”
“Yes, literally, it seems. By the way, here’s five bucks. Cover his swearing in this room. I think. I sort of lost count.”
“Speaking of which,” June said, “we didn’t have the end-of-month party yet. On account of the hurricane.”
“Can we do that tonight?”
“I’ll tell everyone,” June said. “You take the evening patrol?”
“Yes. They drink and gobble and party and badmouth me, while I patrol the mean streets of Mangrove Bayou, a lonely, bitter man, with a crooked smile but straight teeth.”
“There are times, Chief, I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about.”
“Just letting off some steam in my own way. Not fun firing people. Even jerks like Calvin.”
“You’re a good man,” June said. “Everyone knows it. Put it behind you.”
Chapter 44
Thursday, August 1
By noon he was almost done with his letter laying out all the reasons for firing Calvin Smith. He had not mentioned Lester Groud’s orders to do so. This was on him and it had to be legally airtight. Troy was sure it was. He could still close his eyes and see, in his mind, the letter firing him from the Tampa department. It made a good template to use.
He was re-reading the letter, which ran to four pages not counting attached affidavits from some very angry tourists, when his intercom buzzed. “You have a visitor,” June said.
“So? Send him back.”
“It’s a her.”
“Better still.”
Lee Bell walked in through the open door. She wore her usual white jeans, this time with a dark blue tee-shirt that read Embry-Riddel Aeronautical University in white letters on the front. She had on large round sunglasses.
“Doing the Audrey Hepburn look?” Troy asked.
“Wouldn’t I also need the long cigarette holder and the long white gloves?”
“I believe so.” He stood up and came around his desk. He kissed her and picked her up off the floor in a bear hug and didn’t let go for a long minute. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hug someone, or for someone to hug him. Finally he stepped away and sat down at his desk. Lee sat in one of the visitor chairs. “Why the major hug? I know you’re not the best hugger and usually only do it to make me happy.”
“Been a long, long few days. And to top it off, had to fire an officer a few hours ago.”
“Humm. Maybe you should fire people more often. Liked the hug. I thought I might get pregnant from it.”
“And had to kill a man night before last, too.”
Lee frowned. “Want to tell me about it?”
“I will. In time. Good to see you back,” he said. “How was New Orleans?”
“Fine. It’s never been the same as before Katrina. Too bad. So how did Mangrove Bayou fare?”
“We got by. Some vacant properties available now on Snake Key, if you’re thinking of investing.”
“I was thinking more about lunch.”
“I like you; I like the way you think.”
“Love the cute uniforms,” Lee said. “If the big mean hippopotamus attacks the African Queen, will you shoot it?”
“Absolutely.”
They walked down 3rd Street to a Greek restaurant. As they ate Troy told Lee about the shooting and the Barrymore case. “I wanted to know something. Kathleen Barrymore said she would have her husband cremated and scattered over the Gulf of Mexico. Do you do that sort of thing?”
Lee grimaced. “I have. I don’t much like to. But it’s income. I have someone come along to help. The cargo door on the aircraft is the rollup type, so I can open it in mid-air. Or have someone do that. The skydivers like to use those, not that I take up skydivers. The rule is, my assistant is the only per
son to open the door and toss out the box, and he’s tethered in. Throws out the whole box. None of that dumping it out the door stuff. Tried that the first time and had to vacuum Uncle Joe off the entire aircraft interior. If the bereaved want to come along they have to stay seated and belted, in their seats, as long as that door is open.”
“Interesting,” Troy said. “I’ve done it from a sailboat. Once. Dumped two people at the same time. The daughter had saved her mother’s ashes for years and after her father died she buried them both together.”
“Nice.”
“It was. Sounds odd but it was actually rather touching. The man was a friend, another sailor, so we had a boatload of sailors along also, to see him off.”
“Speaking of sailing, when are you going to take me out in your boat?”
“You do realize it’s August and that boat has no cover, no bimini.”
“Well, take me someplace shady. And I always use SPF-70 sunscreen. We redheads have pale skin.”
“I have noticed that. Almost no tan lines either. Why don’t you take me up in the airplane? We can do that mile-high-club thing I’ve always heard about.”
“That’s a myth, big guy. Who would fly the plane? And, anyway, I need a day or two off. Spent all day yesterday getting back here. I was making a puppy run and had to stop off at a few places along the way.”
“A puppy run?”
“Dogs, puppies, some cats. Some of us, when we’re going to be flying empty anyway, load up with animals from overcrowded shelters and deliver them to other towns with space for them. There’s an organization that arranges it all, Pilots N Paws. We’re just the truck drivers. And by their standards my truck is pretty big.”
They walked back to the town hall and across the parking lot and into the police station back door. Lee sat in one of the chairs while Troy did paperwork. “Got different furniture on the way,” he said at one point. “Might even have a desk with four working legs. I’ll have better visitor chairs and a sofa so I don’t have to sleep on the floor if I’m here all night.”
At 3 p.m. the radio on the charger crackled to life. “June, tell Troy I found it,” he heard Juan say. He picked up the radio and thumbed the send button. “I’m on here, Juan. Where?”
“By the bridge over the river. We’ll bring it back to the station. Twenty minutes.”
“Who was that?” Lee asked.
“Our official police diver, Juan Valdez. Had him out looking for a bicycle.”
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Will I see you tonight, big guy?”
Troy shook his head. “I’m on patrol this evening. Might get relieved around midnight. Maybe I’ll come by your place after that.”
“Well, you have a key. I’ll be waiting up. Been a long few days for me too. But don’t you have a department full of people to do the evening patrol?”
“Tonight’s Swearing Night. Our first. They will use the money in the Bad Words Jar to buy beer and pizza and pig out in the break room. I’ll take the patrol. I’ll see if I can keep one of them sober enough to relieve me. But if I were you I wouldn’t wait up. They will get pretty rowdy. And they deserve it. Been a hard few days, with the storm and some other things. I think they’re starting to pull together as a team.”
“I think you have pulled them together,” Lee said.
“Probably so. Oh, that’s not being egotistical,” Troy said. “I know my strengths and weaknesses. One thing the Army can do for you is teach you how to motivate and lead men.”
“Or women.”
“Or women. But that’s why companies love to hire ex-officers for management slots.”
“Well, call me when you’re headed my way,” Lee said. “No matter when it is. I’ll freshen up.” She got up and left. Troy sat back and grinned and tried not to fantasize too much.
Chapter 45
Thursday, August 1
In a few minutes Juan came in, still wearing his wet suit, and went to the shower and locker room to rinse off and change. Bubba had a dripping bicycle that he put into the evidence room. Angel put away the rifles. Troy went to the evidence room to look.
“Nice bike,” Troy said. “Not even rusted yet. And it has a serial number. That’s what I wanted most. With that we can track down the buyer. And now we can see if those tires match the cast that they have at the sheriff’s substation in Everglades City.”
“And that owner’s gotta be Kathleen Barrymore, I bet,” Bubba said. “What made you think of the bicycle?”
“I was positive that I had seen two in her garage first time I looked. Later there was only one. She told me there had never been but one but I trust my memory. Then there was the bicycle track out by Tats Michaels’ truck. Even assuming the person who left that track didn’t know about it in the dark, where did that second bicycle go? Why throw away a perfectly good bicycle?”
“I don’t know. Why would you?”
“One possibility is that it would somehow incriminate her. I don’t know—yet—if that’s actually true or not. But she apparently thought so. And if she thought the bicycle could be a clue, I wanted to see for myself. Now I can.”
“How did you know where to look?”
“I thought about it. She rode the bike at least twelve miles, late at night, probably early morning. Along the way she buried her clothes using a garden trowel that was not adequate, as it turned out, to dig a deep enough hole. She would have had a change of clothes with her. She would have known how messy shooting Tats Michaels would be. She stashed the bicycle, and probably some spare clothes, behind some bushes where she planned to dump the pickup truck. If any car came along as she was returning home she could hide off to one side long before the driver would see her. In town she simply counted on nobody being awake to see her ride by.”
“Took a risk there,” Bubba said.
“Not much of one at some late hour and taking side streets. But maybe the bike had some blood on it too, from her clothing before she changed. She probably didn’t count on that but there was water, water everywhere, so how hard could it be to get rid of the evidence? But, being lazy by nature, she rode the bike as far as she could and dropped it off the convenient 11th Street bridge over to Airfield Key. Then she walked the quarter-mile on home.”
“That was plenty smart, Chief. Doubt that I ever would have thought of it.”
Troy grinned. “If I had thought harder, I’d have had Juan start looking from the bridge first, and then on out of town, and not the other way around.”
“So are you going to arrest her now?”
“Let’s wait for the blood results for those clothes we found. While we’re waiting we can run down this serial number on the bicycle.”
Chapter 46
Friday, August 2
The psychologist to whom Troy had been referred turned out to be a bear—or so Troy fancied. Dr. Randy Groves lived in a house on Snake Key where Perimeter Road turned abruptly to follow the shoreline. Groves’ house, on that corner, was on stilts and looked out on both the Gulf of Mexico across the islands between the town and the Gulf, and also on the Collier River where it emptied into the Gulf. Troy thought it was possibly the best view in all of Mangrove Bayou.
Groves was big, six-four and about two-hundred-fifty pounds, shaggy brown hair and brown eyes and a full brown beard. Even his eyebrows were large and shaggy. He wore large denim jeans and a large denim shirt and he was barefoot. “Call me Panda,” Groves said, shaking Troy’s hand. “Everyone else does.”
“Quite a view,” Troy said. “Must have used a crane to get this table up here.” They were sitting outside on a wood deck that had a retractable fabric roof extended out over it. There was a six-by-four-foot table made of wrought iron and they had used just two of the six chairs. Groves had set a laptop on his side of the table. A dozen feet below, what would have been a lawn elsewhere was wild plants here.
“I don’t have a lawn,” Groves said in response to Troy’s look at the grounds. “I have a meadow. Why plant grass? Just ha
ve to mow it. And the storm surge like we had the other day would dump salt and kill it. I figure whatever is tough enough to grow here is right for the area.”
“Never owned a lawnmower,” Troy said. “Never lived in a single-family house.”
“I read your file,” Groves said. “A Doctor Barnes emailed it down from Tampa. You seem to have done well for yourself, considering.”
“Considering?”
“Abandoned child. Raised in a group home. Mixed race. No money, parents, prospects. Yet you managed somehow. Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“So what’s your problem?”
“Thought you were supposed to tell me that,” Troy said. “And don’t you have an office? With a couch?”
“It was a rhetorical question,” Groves said. “I don’t know what your problem is. Doctor Barnes in Tampa didn’t know. You know but you keep it well hidden. It will bubble up someday. And this is my office whenever it’s not raining bloody hell.”
“Nightmares,” Troy said.
“About that shooting,” Groves said. “Read about it. Tell me about the nightmare. Every detail. Take your time.”
“I warn you that I may vomit all over the table, here.”
“Do it anyway. I’m listening. Sit back and close your eyes and tell me what you’re seeing.”
Troy did so. He didn’t feel the urge to throw up. Maybe it was different when just describing it.
“But what I don’t get,” Troy said when he had finished, “is that I don’t seem to have nightmares about the second shooting up in Tampa, the one that got me fired. And a few days ago I had to shoot a man right here on Snake Key.”
“Read about that on the Bayou Breeze web site,” Groves said. “How common is it for a policeman to shoot someone in the course of a career?”
“Very rare. Lots of cops go decades without drawing a gun and most never shoot anyone at all.”
Groves nodded. “So you are either very lucky in having survived three shootouts, or very unlucky in having gotten into three shootouts.”
“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. So why the nightmares?”
Mangrove Bayou Page 21
