by Lee Hanson
“That would be a hell of a deal for them, Joe. The water’s deep on this side; they could bring a ship in close. Plus they already have a sea wall and a pier for the tenders.”
“Yeah. And it’s not too wide for them to cut through to that beautiful beach on the other side.”
“Was there supposed to be a ‘caretaker’ or somebody living on this island?”
“That’s what Julie told me. But those houses we passed on the other side are abandoned…probably scared off by the drug runners.”
“Hey…there’s an airport on Treasure Cay,” said Will. “We’re passing right over it on our way back. We could land and ask around about Castle Cay. A lot of these Bahamians, particularly the fishing boats, they know everything about these islands.”
“That would be great. Let’s do it.”
They climbed aboard, Will revved up the chopper and they lifted off…leaving the shadowy ghosts of Castle Cay behind.
•
They left the chopper at the airport on Treasure Cay. While they waited for a cab, Joe picked up a brochure featuring four fishing boats and their captains:
- FISH ABACOS -
Half Day or Full Day
Excitedly, he showed it to Will on the way to the marina.
“Look at this guy, Will. ‘Captain Al Drum’. He’s got the same name as the caretaker Julie mentioned. She said his name was ‘John Drum’ and I think she said there was a son, ‘Alfred’. I bet it’s him. Here’s his boat, Wave Dancer II. Let’s see if we can find him.”
It was two in the afternoon when they located Wave Dancer’s slip.
“She’ll be back about four,” said a teenage boy washing down a catamaran moored nearby. “Al had four guys, an all day charter.”
They thanked him, and decided to go grab some lunch at the Marina Bar & Grill and return a little later.
They took a seat in the restaurant and both ordered “Fish N’ Chips” and cokes. When the waitress walked away, Will grinned at Joe.
“Well, you sure have gotten yourself a case, Joe.”
“Yeah, it’s a puzzle, all right.”
“I meant a case of the hots for Merlin,” said Will.
“Yeah,” said Joe, smiling, “that, too.”
At half past three, they were sitting on a wooden bench on the dock waiting for WaveDancer II. She pulled in neatly, right on schedule. One by one, four sunburned, happy guys shook Captain Al’s hand and left. The Captain himself was dark haired and medium height, late twenties, maybe thirty. He was deeply tanned, as was his mate, a blond fellow about the same age. They started to clean up the boat.
“Excuse me,” said Joe, “Alfred Drum?”
“Al,” he said. “Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?”
“I wonder if your father is John Drum, who used to be the caretaker out on Castle Cay?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Joe introduced himself and Will, and explained that the owner of the island, Marc Solomon, had died under suspicious circumstances. He told him that Julie O’Hara - a close friend of Mr. Solomon - had hired him to investigate the man’s death. Joe pulled out his wallet and gave him one of his business cards.
“Yes, I’m John Drum’s son,” said Al. “I used to live on Castle Cay. I’m sorry to hear about Marc Solomon. I haven’t seen him in years, but he was a nice guy. And I’ll never forget Julie O’Hara, even though she only came to Castle Cay once. What would you like to know?”
“When did your family leave Castle Cay?”
“In 1994,” said Al. “Mrs. Solomon had a heart attack while they were on vacation there in ’93. I think they kind of thought the island was cursed or something after that. Anyway, the family said they didn’t need us there anymore. They gave my father a nice severance and we moved here. I have to tell you, my mother and I didn’t mind. It was a lonely life out there.”
“So, do you ever go back?”
“No, never have. There were rumors about men with rifles on the island. I never went near Castle Cay after I heard that. There’s still pirates out here that’ll steal your equipment, or your whole boat. You got to be careful, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess you do,” said Joe. “One other thing, Al. You mentioned that Julie O’Hara came here once. When was that? Was she with Marc Solomon?”
Al Drum looked at him, surprised.
“No. She was with Dan O’Hara on her honeymoon. He died there…you don’t know about that?”
* * * * *
Chapter 38
Special Agent Sherman Dixon had gotten the call from the Executive Assistant Director’s office in Washington, D.C. Thomas Wright, EAD, wanted to meet with him. Sherm had no idea what it was about when he walked in and sat down, but he found out fast.
“Good morning, Agent Dixon. Have a seat.”
“Good morning, sir,” said Sherm.
“I’d like you to explain what you know about a man named Avram Solomon and why you inquired about him,” said the EAD.
Uh-oh…
“I went to college with a guy, Joe Garrett, who is a private investigator now. We were talking on the phone about his girlfriend, who’s originally from Boston,” said Sherm. “She was a good friend of Marcus Solomon. You recall that artist who was murdered in Key West, sir?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, she mentioned to my friend that she was suspicious of the victim’s brother, Avram Solomon. She told Joe she knew some people who worked for this Solomon guy in Boston, who thought he might be doing something illegal with his car dealership business,” said Sherm.
“Some people? Who?”
“I don’t know their names, sir. I asked about this Solomon guy out of curiosity. I thought he might be laundering money, maybe, for the Tambini family. But no one recognized the name and he wasn’t in the system. Sir? May I ask what this is about?”
“Yes, you may. You are being temporarily assigned to a Top Secret task force in Boston. It’s an ongoing drug investigation. This individual, Avram Solomon, has recently figured into it.
“You are to gather as much information as you can from your friend, the detective, and his girlfriend, too…especially the names of any people who work for, or with Solomon, and who might have pertinent information that they are willing to share with us.
“Then you are to fly immediately to Boston to meet Special Agent in Charge, Robert Branson, who is heading up this task force,” said the EAD. “And, Agent Dixon, you can’t tell anyone about this investigation. You have to get this information without divulging anything about the task force. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I don’t want any leaks from this office.”
“No, sir.”
“All right, then. Good luck to you,” he said, extending his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” said Sherm, giving his hand a final shake. “Goodbye.”
Sounds like Joe’s suspect is up to his eyeballs in illegal activities, thought Sherm, as he walked down the hall toward the elevator. But how the hell does it connect with the brother’s death in Key West?
* * * * *
Chapter 39
As exhausted as David was, it might have been kinder to just let him go to bed. But Julie knew that she had a better chance of getting the whole story out of him now…and, besides, she was angry with him.
“Why did you lie about Rolly being here when you found Marc?”
“I didn’t lie, Julie. Nobody asked me,” he said.
“What?” she said. “You told the police that Rolly left when Susan left!”
“Well, he did. They never asked me if he came back.”
“I don’t believe this! You’re charged with murder, and you’re protecting Rolly? What are you doing with him, anyway? I don’t understand how you could do that to Marc.”
“That’s why we didn’t tell the police!” said David, standing up now, pacing back and forth. “They wouldn’t understand, either. Marc knew all about Rolly and me. He didn’t mind, Julie! M
arc and I loved each other, but we haven’t had a sexual relationship for years.”
“How do you know that Rolly didn’t kill Marc?”
“I know. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.”
There was no point arguing with him. He’ll be more rational after he gets some sleep. In any case, Jake Goldman needs to know about this.
After David went to bed, Julie added to the chart, under Rolly Archer.
Had opportunity. Jealousy? Money? Any connection to Avram Solomon?
She had set the phone’s ringer on Low. It rang periodically throughout the afternoon. She answered it twice. The first time was when the Caller ID said, “Jacob Goldman”. He asked to speak to David.
“He’s sleeping, Jake. This is Julie. I’ll wake him if you want me to, but he was really wiped out and upset. He may have taken a sleeping pill.”
“Yes, I know. Unfortunately, so do the police, who found a lot of alprazolam in the deceased.”
Alprazolam…generic for Xanax?
“So, Julie, you seem to really care for David. How long have you known him?”
“I was Marc Solomon’s friend for eighteen years. I’ve been David’s friend since he met Marc, many years ago. And, of course, I believe he’s innocent.”
“I think he probably is, too. But I get the feeling he’s holding back something,” he said. “Do you have any idea what that might be?”
“Yes, I do. But I think David should tell you himself,” she said.
“Jake, I’m a body language specialist. I’ve been a jury consultant on two murder cases. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m here. And you know Joe Garrett; he’s following another lead we think is related to Marc’s murder. We hope to find evidence that will exonerate David, at least provide reasonable doubt.”
“I’m coming over there tomorrow morning to meet with David, about ten. Will you be there? And can you have Joe there, too?”
“Yes. I expect him this evening.”
“Well, I’m all ears, Julie. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
Julie hung up and thought about the sleeping pills. The damn bottle was new, not the prescription. Why else would it be significant to the DA? I’ll check it later. Still…couldn’t Marc have been prescribed the same drug? No, probably not; they have to know his medications.
She took the chart down, took it to her room and slipped it under the bed.
David kept on sleeping.
The second time she answered the phone, it was Joe.
“Hi! How did the trip to Castle Cay go?” asked Julie, suddenly aware of how much the damn place was on her mind these days.
“It went fine, Merlin. I’ve got a lot to tell you. Will’s flying me to Key West now. I was hoping you could pick me up, or should I rent a car and check in somewhere?”
“No! I mean…no, don’t rent a car. I’ll pick you up. David’s asleep, probably for the night. We could stop somewhere for dinner. I haven’t eaten, have you?”
Joe gave her the time and place, and Julie hung up.
It only makes sense for him to stay here. There is an empty bedroom, after all.
* * * * *
Chapter 40
The wind over the Caribbean was chasing its own tail southeast of Cuba, but Key West was getting a typical, late-day thunderstorm, albeit a windy one. It was almost eight and Julie and Joe were so hungry, they decided not to wait out the downpour. They jumped out of the VW and ran into the Rusty Pelican.
The restaurant was cozy, decorated in a nautical motif. Dimly lit ship’s lanterns reflected on polished wood, and matching hurricane candles sat on each table. They requested a booth and were seated right away. Julie picked up a napkin and used it to dab at her wet face and dripping hair.
“You look good wet,” said Joe.
Suddenly Julie’s face grew warm.
I’m blushing! What am I, a teenager?
Anxious to redirect his attention, she asked, “So how was the flight in this terrible weather?”
“Nice segue,” said Joe, laughing. “Truth? It was tough. The nearer we got to Key West, the wind and rain played havoc with the chopper. Will was as miserable as a cat in a tub...and he took off just about as fast.”
They were seated in the bar side of the restaurant, and the young bartender came over and took their food and drink order. Julie ordered a chardonnay, and Joe an iced tea. She noticed that there were a few men seated at the bar who were watching ESPN. Fortunately, the sound was turned down.
It didn’t take long for the young man to serve their drinks.
“I found out something important from David,” Julie said, taking a sip.
“What?”
“The night of the murder, Marc and David had two dinner guests, Rolly Archer, a friend of theirs, and Susan Dwyer, Marc’s agent. They left together at ten-thirty. In a weak moment this afternoon, David told me that Rolly came back later and they spent the whole night together. He said they found Marc’s body together.”
“Holy shit! He hasn’t told the police that?”
“No. I think he’s in love with Rolly.”
“That guy could have done it!” said Joe.
“That’s what I said. David refuses to consider the possibility. He said he ‘knows Rolly never left his side’.”
“He’s got to tell the cops, Julie.”
She nodded. “He’s going to tell Jake Goldman in the morning.”
“It’s going to make him look guilty as hell, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, sighing in resignation.
“Tell me about your trip to Castle Cay.”
“Well, I think there’s been some changes since you were there…”
Joe proceeded to tell her everything; everything except for Al Drum’s recounting of her honeymoon ordeal, which had pierced Joe’s heart and explained a lot. He hoped that Julie, herself, would decide to share that with him. In any case, this certainly wasn’t the time to bring it up.
“Anyhow, Merlin, the airstrip and the cement block buildings…there’s no doubt they were built by drug traffickers. And the caretaker, John Drum, was fired in 1994 by the Solomon family.”
“The Solomon family? That had to mean Avram,” said Julie. “Marc’s mother died on Castle Cay in 1993. According to her brother, none of the family went there after that. I know Marc never did…plus, it was in the trust, which was managed by Avram! Do you think he knew about the drugs?”
“Maybe. Maybe that ties into your suspicions about his business, too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised! I think Avram is a pathological liar, Joe. Matt Castle thinks so, too, and he’s known him all his life. I’m also sure that Avram hated Marc. But he has an airtight alibi; he was definitely in Boston. And damn it, I just can’t see what he would gain from selling the island, since the proceeds don’t even go to him.”
“So the sale is done?” asked Joe.
“No. Pending, I think. I met with the agent at Island World Realty in Miami who’s handling the sale. His name is Frank Martino. He stands to make a serious commission. He’s the listing and selling agent,” she added.
“Miami isn’t far from here, Julie.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that, too,” she said. “Also, I suspect that Marc never signed the sales agreement. Martino thought I was a real estate agent and he made a point of telling me that Avram, as trustee, could sign the deal.”
“So you think that Marc didn’t want to sell?”
“That’s the weird part, Joe. From all accounts, he did want to sell.”
The two of them, stymied, suspended conversation for a while and dug into their broiled grouper.
Julie put down her fork and looked up.
“I was thinking, Joe…Jake Goldman is coming tomorrow morning to see David. I told him that you were working with me on this, and he asked to see the two of us, as well. Why don’t you stay at the house?” She hastened to add, “There’s an extra bedroom…”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Julie smiled along with him…for the first time.
They looked outside and decided to wait a little longer to see if the rain might let up. Over coffee, their conversation turned to other subjects…life in Orlando…the weather.
The bartender had raised the volume, and they turned toward the television. On screen, a weather channel reporter was talking about tropical storm Carlo and the deluge it was dumping in Haiti.
•
It was ten-thirty by the time they arrived at David’s house. Julie had left very few lights on and she surmised that David was still asleep because it was still dark inside. As she closed the front door behind them, she flipped on the gallery-light switch illuminating the paintings all around the walls.
“Wow!” said Joe, transfixed.
“I know. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“They’re the essence of Key West…the way it feels.”
Julie was surprised at Joe’s succinct appreciation of Marc’s art. There’s more to him than meets the eye.
“I’ll show you his studio in the morning, Joe. You really can’t appreciate it at night. You must be tired; I know I am.”
She turned right into the hallway, leading the way to the bedroom at the end, which she had made up for him earlier. But she didn’t walk into it. Instead, she stood awkwardly in the narrow hallway, sort of ushering him in. “The bathroom is over there,” she said, “and my room is over here.”
I can’t believe I said that!
Joe looked at her with his eyebrows raised and a slight smile, his eyes dropping to her mouth and then rising back up to her eyes. He squeezed past her.
“Well, then…goodnight,” he said, as he closed his door.
“Yes, goodnight.”
Julie bit her lip softly, unconsciously.
Definitely more to him…
* * * * *
Chapter 41
Guy Tambini was at his father’s house in Newton, Massachusetts, just west of Boston. He was very uncomfortable; he didn’t like being reprimanded by his father, Silvio, especially in front of one of his men. It was humiliating, and it was all because of that prick, Avram Solomon.
