“No. Sorry, Matt, I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.”
She raised the pistol, pointing at my chest.
An amplified voice boomed from the stand of pines. “Agent Birmingham, drop your weapon. Longboat Key Police.”
A look of surprise and then resignation crossed her face. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Good-bye, Matt. I wish we’d met in another time and place.”
She raised the pistol, and was pointing it at my face when her head exploded. I was looking into her eyes when death shut them down. In the split second before, I saw the red dot of the laser scope painting the left side of her head. I tried to react, but only an instant had passed since she raised her weapon. Blood and brain matter and bits of skull exploded out of the right side of her head. She crumpled to the beach like a bag of rags.
Men were pouring out of the trees. Bill Lester and Jock Algren were in the lead. Five Longboat cops in battle fatigues followed, all armed with M-16s.
“You okay, Matt?” asked Jock as he ran up to me, a sniper rifle cradled in his arms.
“Yeah,” I said, and sat down on the sand.
“We got it all, Matt,” said Bill Lester. “That little device was broadcasting like a good stereo system.”
I pulled my knees up, put my arms across them and rested my head on my arms. “Let’s get her out of here, Bill. She needs to rest.”
Jock helped me to my feet, and we walked off the beach.
* * * * *
Jock drove the Explorer the mile or so to my condo. I felt like a zombie, empty inside, but yet an indescribable sadness was settling over me. I kept thinking about the moment life deserted Liz. I couldn’t get that image out of my mind.
We took the elevator to the second floor and sat on the balcony drinking bourbon. Beer did not seem somber enough to match our moods.
Jock lifted his glass. “To the end of death,” he said. “I’ve killed my last person.”
“You okay, buddy?”
“I guess. I liked her, but she wasn’t what we thought. She was going to kill you tonight.”
“I know. You saved my bacon again, Jock. Thanks.” “You took the risks, podna. All I did was stand back in the woods with a rifle. Sometimes, it seems as if that’s all I’ve done my whole life.”
“She had a tough life, growing up as a bastard in a small town. She worked hard to overcome all that, got her degree, went to work for a good agency. What made her take that wrong turn?”
“Money, probably. We’ll never know for sure.”
“She said it was the money, but I think it was more than that. She’d built up a lot of anger at the world. Life had dealt her a bad hand, but she was doing so well for so long. What in the world turns a decent kid into a killer?”
My cell phone rang. Bill Lester.
“I called Rufus Harris,” he said. “He’s not happy about Liz’s death, but he’s coming here in the morning. Can you and Jock be at the station at ten?”
“Can I bring Logan?” I said. “He needs to be brought up to date.”
“No problem.”
“We’ll be there. Bill, you covered my ass tonight, and I’m grateful. Tell your guys that for me. I wasn’t tracking too well when I left the beach.”
“Will do,” he said and hung up. Bill Lester was a tough guy.
Jock and I sat and talked and sipped good whiskey. I knew I was going to regret it the next morning, but I also knew I needed a little anesthesia for the night. I hoped Liz wouldn’t join those North Vietnamese soldiers in my nightmares.
37
Murder Key
37
Murder Key
FORTY-FOUR
Hammers were pounding my head when I awoke on Saturday morning. I hadn’t pulled the drapes shut when I went to bed, and light was streaming into the room, adding to the pain brought on by too much bourbon.
I crawled out from under the sheets, stood for a moment to make sure that I could, and then padded to the bathroom. I took four aspirins and stepped into the shower. I stood quietly, letting the hot water and the analgesics work their magic.
I dressed in a T-shirt, cargo shorts and boat shoes, and made my way to the living room. Jock was sitting on the sofa, a look of pain on his face.
“We gotta stop this crap,” he said. “I’m getting too old for it.”
I laughed. “I know what you mean. Let’s go get some pancakes.”
I called Logan to meet us for breakfast. We drove to the Blue Dolphin Café and Jock and I ate a stack of pancakes, a side of bacon and about a gallon of coffee each. Logan sipped his tomato juice. I drank enough ice water to fill a swimming pool, and suddenly, I was feeling better. I suspected I was going to survive the hangover, and that is the first hope that slips into the psyche of the man who drinks too much bourbon.
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Murder Key
Hope brings with it a resolution to never do it again. But that resolve will fade, along with the memory of how bad one can feel on a sunny fall morning in Southwest Florida. And in a few days, the bourbon will inevitably flow again.
Logan found our predicament humorous. He’d spent the night watching a full evening of “Cops,” his favorite TV program. He was feeling a little superior.
I groaned as I finished my stack of batter. “Have you seen the morning paper?” I asked, looking at Logan.
“No. Anything interesting?”
“Yeah,” I said. “While you were goofing off in Atlanta yesterday, we were busy. There was a shoot-out at Beer Can, and Liz Birmingham is dead.”
“The DEA agent?” Logan asked, his face reflecting his alarm.
I said, “She was dirty, Logan, and she was going to kill me, when Jock got her with a rifle.”
“I don’t believe this. What happened?”
“We’re going to the police station. Bill Lester will fill you in while he brings Rufus Harris up to speed. It was a bad night.”
Logan said, “What about Reich at Border Patrol?”
“He’s out of it,” I said. “Once the illegal ring was busted, he moved on to other things. DEA is in charge of the drugs.”
We left the restaurant feeling better and drove the half-mile to the police station. The receptionist waived us through the gate leading back to the offices. Lester and Harris were waiting for us. Rufus didn’t look too happy.
Bill told us to take a seat and said, “I’ve been telling Rufus about what went down last night. I’ll finish up and you two can add anything you want to.”
He told the agent that I had come up with the possibility that Liz was in fact Beth Horvath and Foster’s daughter. He explained how we came to get the DNA sample, and how we matched it to Liz.
Bill apologized for not bringing Rufus into the action. “We weren’t sure who we could trust at DEA,” he said. “Yesterday, we were trying to decide how to approach you when Liz showed up at the Colony.”
Rufus interrupted. “How did you know she was on Longboat?”
“I called McClintoc down in Miami on Thursday and told him what we suspected,” Bill said. “He had one of his guys in Orlando put a satellite tracking beacon on Liz’s car. BLOC knew where she was from the time she started her car. Customs was going to get involved, because they didn’t know who to trust in DEA either.
“She left Orlando at mid-morning yesterday and drove straight to Longboat. That surprised us, but it gave us all afternoon to set up.”
I turned to Rufus. “We didn’t think you were on the wrong side,” I said, “but things were moving fast, and we didn’t have time to sort it out.”
Bill nodded his head. “After BLOC let me know that Liz had stopped at the Colony, I called the front desk, and sure enough, she’d checked in. I called Matt to bring him up to date, and he told me that he always went to the Colony on Friday nights. If Liz’s people had been tracking him, they’d know that.”
The chief continued with the story, telling Rufus the whole thing, step by step. We’d decided that I would follow my usual routin
e and see if Liz tried to contact me. We put another tracking beacon on my Explorer and wired me for sound. I had a small device stuck to my chest that would broadcast everything said to a receiver Bill and Jock were monitoring.
The Longboat Key Police Department didn’t have anybody qualified as a sniper, and Lester was going to ask to borrow someone from Sarasota County. Jock volunteered instead, and Bill only had to borrow a sniper rifle from the county. Jock went to the sheriff’s firing range to zero in the weapon.
There were four crews of Longboat Key Police officers stationed at intervals along Gulf of Mexico Drive, ready to go where the chief directed them. Bill and Jock were in an unmarked car parked in the Colony lot while Liz and I were in the Monkey Bar. They saw us come out and walk toward the beach. Bill was about to move his men into place when he heard Liz suggest that we go to Beer Can Island.
The chief radioed the crew near the north end of the key to take up position in the pine trees along the beach at Beer Can. He and Jock headed north, running at high speed. A police crew stationed near the New Pass Bridge got in position to follow my car as I left the Colony property.
Bill and Jock arrived at North Shore Road minutes before I did. They parked the unmarked in a parking lot at the Whitney Beach Condominium complex, next to the personal car driven by the team from New Pass Bridge. They were tracking my Explorer on a hand-held receiver and knew when I pulled into North Shore Road. They were able to pick up my and Liz’s conversation from the transmitter taped to my chest.
The team following me arrived and took up position with the rest of the officers. The moon provided some light, and Jock’s rifle was equipped with a night vision scope that had the laser finder built in. Bill was wearing military issue night vision goggles that painted Liz and me with an eerie green hue.
When Liz pulled the pistol from her purse, Jock raised the rifle to his shoulder.
Bill whispered, “Not yet.”
Jock held his position, watching us through the scope. When Liz pointed the pistol at my chest, Bill put the bullhorn to his mouth and ordered Liz to drop her weapon.
She didn’t. When she raised it to point at my head, Jock flipped on the laser sight and pulled the trigger. Liz was dead.
* * * * *
Bill was quiet then, letting the story sink in. Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Rufus turned to Jock, “You had no choice, Jock,” he said. “You did what you had to do.”
Jock made a face of resignation. “Yes, I did, Rufus,” he said, “and I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”
The chief said, “There’s something else. One of Customs’ pilots killed the senator. A guy named Graham Rutan.”
“Did you notify McClintoc?”
“Yes,” said Bill. “He was going to personally arrest the bastard.”
Logan spoke up. “What about Marie Phillips and the deputy we saw her with?”
Bill said, “Turns out Marie is what she said she was, an Administrative Assistant. She has an MBA from the University of Florida and has worked for Foster for about three years. Her job was on the legitimate side of his business, and she didn’t know anything about the illegals or the drugs.”
“Logan asked, “Was she his squeeze?”
“No,” the chief said. “She inherited that condo on the south end when her husband was killed in a car wreck a few years back. She also got a bundle in a settlement with the owner of the truck that hit him. The deputy is her brother.”
I shook my head. “Man, I sure jumped to the wrong conclusion about her,” I said. “Have they released Pepe Zaragoza?”
“That’s being handled as we speak,” said Bill.
Rufus turned to the chief. “I’d like to hear that tape now.”
I didn’t want to re-live any of that night. I told them I’d wait outside, and Jock and I left the office. Logan stayed.
We were standing in the police parking lot talking quietly when my cell phone rang. It was Anne.
“Matt, I just read the morning paper, and there’s a story about the death of that woman at Beer Can last night. It said you were there. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Anne. I think the troubles on the key are finished. I found out who was trying to kill me and why. Now, it’s over. How’re you?”
“I’m doing good. I miss you.”
“How’s the stock broker?”
“I don’t know. Turns out he’s kind of a jerk.”
My heart beat a little faster, but I’m nothing, if not cool.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said.
“If I come out tomorrow, will you take me to Egmont? It’s supposed to be a nice day.”
“Sure,” I said. I wasn’t exactly playing hard-to-get.
I closed the phone and related the conversation to Jock. He said one word. “Sucker.”
I agreed, and smiled for the rest of the day.
37
Murder Key
FORTY-FIVE
On the first Sunday in December, the temperature slid into the high seventies. A slight breeze blew out of the south, bathing our paradise in currents of warm air. Light clouds moved slowly across a cerulean sky, and Anne wore her red bikini. Life was good.
I took the Grady-White out Longboat Pass, cutting in close to the jetty at the south end of Anna Maria Island. The sea had a light chop, but not enough to make the ride uncomfortable. We headed north to the mouth of Tampa Bay.
Jock had left on an early-morning flight to Houston. He and Logan and I had spent the evening at Moore’s, eating crabs and drinking beer. We finished up the night at the Haye Loft, drinking more beer and talking with Eric and Teresa, the bartenders. Several people stopped by to ask about the Beer Can Event, as it was becoming known on the key. I told them that the police had asked us not to talk about it. I just wasn’t ready to discuss it.
Anne brought sandwiches and beer for lunch. We found a spot on the beach at Egmont, anchored and waded ashore. The sun was warm, the company magnificent. I didn’t know if this meant that Anne and I were together again, or if this was just her way of letting me down easy. I decided I’d eat my lunch and wait for the other shoe to drop.
She put her hand on my arm and looked closely at me. “You look like hell,” she said. “Friday night was awful, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Liz was a girl with no hope who turned herself into a hell of a woman. Something happened along the way, though, and she went bad. I think she had a lot of demons chasing around in her head, and she just couldn’t control them.”
“It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
“I know, but still... .”
“You couldn’t have saved her, Matt. By the time you met her, she’d already turned the corner. The goodness in her was gone. She was a killer and a drug-runner. She was going to kill you, for heaven’s sake.”
She leaned into me, took my face in her hands, and kissed me long and hard. The other shoe had dropped, and we were going to be okay. At least for a while.
I didn’t tell Anne that in the instant before Liz died, as she pointed her little pistol at my face, she removed her finger from the trigger. And smiled.
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