Death Match

by Emma Rose Watts

  Everything about the place had a very ostentatious feel to it. No expense had been spared in decorating it with top-of-the-line leather and wicker furniture.

  “Please. This way,” said an impeccably dressed butler, all in white. The butler led him out to the veranda where Callum was lying on a beach cabana. It looked like a huge four-poster bed, except behind the thin drapes that blew in the breeze were two lounge chairs. Callum was dressed in a pair of white shorts, a straw fedora, flip flops and a crisp white shirt. He was also sporting a pair of shades.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, detective?” he said, not even looking his way. Harvey looked out at the view that few would ever get to experience. It was astonishing what money could buy. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No,” Harvey said, not caring to hide his disgust for the man.

  “Didn’t your father own a place here?” Before Harvey could respond, he continued. “Oh, that’s right, I bought it.” He dropped his shades a little as if trying to see if he had touched a nerve with Harvey. He had, but he refused to show it. The guy was an asshole and he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him angry.

  “Why don’t we cut the small talk, Callum? You know why I’m here.”

  “The recent deaths. Yes. I heard. It’s unfortunate that people have to resort to killing. It’s so primal. Certainly not my style.”

  “That whole I’m innocent act might work with someone fresh off the boat, Callum, but not me,” Harvey said casting a glance at him and walking over and sitting down beside him. Callum was smoking a cigar and blowing out a huge plume of gray smoke. “Both women are registered as working for your modeling agency.”

  “And?”

  “What’s your involvement with Elite Matchmaking?”

  “Oh you know me, detective, I like to have my hand in anything that smells like success.”

  “You mean, pays for the lawyers that hide your illegal operations?”

  He chuckled. “Detective, you really don’t let go, do you? That was a long time ago. The ’80s are gone. Time to get with the times. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  “Did you give my sister a second chance?”

  “Detective, I did you the courtesy of allowing you to come to my home and ask your questions but if you’re going to abuse that, I’ll have one of my staff escort you out.”

  Harvey balled his fist and clenched his jaw. It was taking everything inside of him to hold back from reaching across and slamming a fist into his face. Harvey seethed. He wanted to drag him out of that chair and drown him in the ocean.

  “What is your involvement with LaSalle?”

  He scrutinized Harvey’s face as if baiting him to lash out. “We have an arrangement where I provide models for his promotional events and advertising material. It’s aboveboard, detective. Would you like to see the paperwork? I can provide your department with a copy.”

  He was sticking it in his face, playing the innocent card again knowing full well it would rile him up.

  “And the St. Catherines boat? What promotional event do you have going on there?”

  “I think that’s something you need to discuss with Lasalle. It’s not my area of business.”

  “Ah, I would beg to differ. You see, we know that your models are spending a great deal of time on that boat, and we know that it’s for VIP members only. So I gotta ask myself why would you allow your models on his boat and yet tell me that you don’t know what’s going on?”

  He took another puff of his cigar, then reached over and picked up his margarita and took a sip. “I didn’t say I didn’t know what’s going on. I said, it’s not my area of business. I provide the models, the rest is up to LaSalle. As long as I get paid, I’m happy.”

  Harvey narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah, I bet you are. But you see that doesn’t answer the question. How have two of your models ended up dead, days apart?”

  “I guess they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or perhaps they said the wrong thing.” He leered over his glasses at Harvey. He might have been talking about the two women but he had a sense that he was making reference to his sister. “If I’m not mistaken neither one was found on Elite’s property, and neither were they working at the time. Which means, detective,” he said stretching out like he didn’t have a care in the world and was untouchable, “you are going to have to try a lot harder if you were hoping to pin this on me or anyone from Elite.”

  Harvey stared into his eyes then began to chuckle. “Sure, well then, how about you go get me that paperwork and I’ll show you how hard I can work.”

  Callum hesitated for a few seconds before clicking his fingers. A cabana boy came over and leaned down. Callum spoke softly into his ear and he hurried away. As Harvey sat there waiting for him to produce the paperwork, he didn’t take his eyes off Callum for even a second.

  “You know, Callum, your day is coming. It might not be today, nor tomorrow but eventually we’ll catch up with you and when we do, I’ll be right there to slap on the cuffs and I’ll be there every day that you show up in court. And when that day comes, no amount of money is going to get you out of the situation you’ll find yourself in.”

  He chuckled. “I like you, detective. I really do. Man, if things were different, and you weren’t on that side, perhaps we’d make good business partners.”

  The guy came running back holding a folder in his hand, he went to give it to Callum and instead he gestured towards Harvey. He handed it to him.

  “Until then, everything you need is inside there. I look forward to hearing from you, or perhaps seeing you around town. Good day, detective.”

  Harvey tapped the folder against his hand, eyeing him one last time before leaving.

  Chapter 12

  The atmosphere inside the Carrabelle Junction café that afternoon was volatile. Harvey sat in silence stirring his coffee and staring at the wall ahead of him.

  “You’re going to stir your way to China if you keep that up,” Skylar said as she scanned the paperwork he’d picked up from Callum Jackson. On the surface everything looked legit. He’d purchased Cameo Modeling agency two years ago when the original owners had declared bankruptcy. According to Harvey, Callum was known for swooping in and scooping up a struggling small business or one on the brink of disaster and building it up and then reselling it a few years down the line. He invested his money in partnerships and used his weight and connections in the city of Miami to breathe new life back into the operation. While his name was on the ownership, his involvement didn’t go beyond that. At least from what was known about the way he conducted business.

  “You should have heard him, Skylar. He was trying to push my buttons. I was this close,” he pinched two fingers together leaving a small gap, “to strangling him.”

  She glanced up at him and continued reading. Fine print, agreements and paperwork in general had never been her strong point. She hated it but it came with the job. They had to run a fine-tooth comb over various businesses and figure out what was going on and sometimes the only way to do that was through hours of painstaking work. Her eyes ached just looking at it. Skylar closed the folder and slid it back across the table. “It seems everything is in order.”

  “Of course it is. Like I said, that’s how he operates, always on the perimeter of the law. He stays just inside the lines and makes sure that everything is set up so that when we come knocking, his lawyers can point to a disclaimer, an agreement or some clause that allows him to walk free.”

  He smashed the table with the side of his fist, causing his coffee to splash over the edge.

  “Hey, Harvey, steady there,” Barb said. “I just got those new tables.”

  “Sorry, been a hard day.”

  “Welcome to my world,” she said walking over and leaning against the booth. “I had a customer come in here today wanting one of those fancy coffees, what do they call ’em? A frappawatchmeacallit.”

  “Frappuccino?” Skylar added.

  “That�
�ll be it. He wanted half this, half that. No fat. By the time he was done telling me his order, I was about ready to put one of my fish sandwiches on his head. Anyway. He was a real hipster. I told him we had coffee but none of that nonsense and if he didn’t like it, he could be on his way. Well you should have seen the look on his face. You would think it was the end of the world.”

  Skylark shrugged. “What can you do?”

  “Oh I know what we can do. I’ve already started a petition to have Vagabond closed. That darn place has been nothing but trouble since it opened up. He’s to blame you know.” She tapped the table with her extra-long nails. “You know, Mr. Miyagi.”

  Skylar threw up a hand and rolled her eyes. “Barb, we’ve already had this conversation.”

  “Doesn’t matter. My point is that he’s the one selling them these frappy drinks, or whatever they’re called. What’s next? Selling joints and having happy hour?”

  “Actually he already has happy hour at one o’clock,” Skylar said.

  That was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes flared. “Mark my words. Vagabond is on its way out. At least if I have anything to do with it.”

  Harvey sat there in silence. Usually by now he would have been cracking up laughing or riling her up even more but instead he looked as if the sky had fallen.

  “C’mon Barb,” Skylar said. “I thought Carrabelle was all about small-town love. Are you sure you don’t have a thing for him?”

  “What? Donnie Wu?”

  “Ah, so you do know his name.” Skylar’s lip curled.

  She lifted her nose and smoothed out her apron. “Well a woman has to know the enemy.” She narrowed her eyes and got this mischievous expression on her face. “And believe me, I plan on wiping that happy hour smile off his face.”

  “Really, Barb, you should just go in there. Say hello. You’ll find he’s actually a pretty down-to-earth guy.”

  “Oh, I’ve been in there.”

  “You have?” Skylar tossed Harvey a look and even his hardened features started to soften. “So? Tell us all the details. Did you leave a Valentine’s card in his box for him?”

  Her face went sour. “Skylar, don’t push it.”

  She started laughing and leaned into the corner of the booth so she could soak in the view of the café. It was the middle of the afternoon and wasn’t too packed. There were a few oldies sitting in the corner reading newspapers and sipping on tea, and a young guy donning a pair of oversized headphones and tapping away on his Mac with a focused expression on his face.

  “Which reminds me, did you find out who sent you the card?” she asked.

  Skylar bit down on her lower lip. “No, it’s odd. Harv here and the guys at the department aren’t saying a word. But I have my suspicions. I think it was Hanson or Reznik playing a gag.”

  “Or it could just be that someone’s into you.”

  “Into me? If they have to send me an anonymous card, they don’t know me. Trust me, Barb, if they saw the way I live or what I have to put up with on a day-to-day basis they would run for the hills.”

  “Ah, I don’t know about that. There is always someone that’s right for us.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe yours is Donnie Wu!” Skylar quipped then started laughing. Barb slapped her on the leg and chuckled.

  “I’m charging you double next time,” she said before walking off to serve a customer.

  Skylar continued laughing then sighed. “Oh man, she’s a real firecracker.” She looked back at Harvey and he was gazing out at the parking lot.

  Skylar gave him a kick under the table to snap him out of his daze. “You okay there? Do I need to admit you into the mental ward? Cause they have a real nice bed right beside mine.”

  He cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “I think you would have liked Evelyn. She had the same sense of humor as you.”

  “Ah, so that’s why we get along like a house on fire.”

  He chuckled.

  “Ooh, don’t do that,” Skylar said. “First rule of crazy is never smile. It confuses the sane.”

  Harvey leaned back in his chair and squinted. “I want him behind bars, Skylar. I want him to pay for what he did to her. I want him to think about how he screwed up. I want him to spend the rest of his days in squalor.”

  “I know you do, Harv,” she said, getting serious. “And while I can’t guarantee that will ever happen, you know I have your back, right?”

  He nodded and tapped the table with his knuckles. “Yeah. Anyway, enough moping around. What now?”

  “Well we have two dead women on our hands, a modeling agency linking them to Elite Matchmaking, another model who is bearing eerily similar whip marks on her back to our victims but refuses to tell us the truth about what’s really going on inside that boat and,” she took a deep breath, “the words of a bitter competitor who was friends with one of the victims, and an old pervert with a birthmark on his face going by the name Phoenix, who if Taylor was telling the truth runs an importing and exporting business out of Miami. All of which adds up to a bunch of… I have not got a clue!” She sucked air between her teeth and chuckled. “However!” She stabbed the air with her finger. “While you were having a margarita with Callum, I had our computer whiz friend Axl do a little digging around.” She pulled out her phone and swiped the screen a few times then placed it front of him.

  On the screen was the website for an importing and exporting business based out of Miami going by the name Sunshine Supply. Their logo was of a phoenix. It was the only company in Miami with a logo like that. Skylar tapped the about page and brought up a photo of an older man going by the name Tom Reynolds. On the side of his face was a small red birthmark covering the lower portion of his right jaw.

  “Now does that look like an old pervert who likes massages from young women?”

  Harvey pulled a face. “I guess the only way to know is to ask him.”

  “My thoughts exactly!” Skylar said sliding out of the booth and scooping up her keys.

  “Are you guys off?” Barb asked.

  “That we are.” Skylar pumped the air with a finger. “Thanks again, Barb, I’ll be sure to let Donnie know you are up for a hot date on the weekend.”

  “Skylar!”

  She cracked a smile while Barb’s voice nearly shattered windows as they exited the café.

  “You know, Reid, I think you’re going to fit in just perfect,” Harvey added.

  Skylar was just about to jump into Harvey’s cruiser when someone wolf whistled really loud across the street. She turned to see Scot darting between two vehicles to get across. He came jogging over holding a few bags.

  “Scot.”

  “Skylar, I thought that was you. And this must be Harvey. Heard a lot about you,” he said, extending his hand. Harvey shook it, glancing at Skylar.

  “Good things, I hope?” Harvey asked.

  “Oh yeah, she was just saying what an asshole you were last night.”

  Skylar scowled at him and he burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. Yeah, she thinks you’re okay, a little tense but okay.”

  “Noted.”

  Scot sniffed and lifted the six-pack of beer. “So, when are we going to get together and have a drink?”

  “We’re actually heading off to interview a suspect.”

  “Perfect. I’ll join you.”

  Skylar went to say something then exhaled. She lifted a finger. “Can I have a word?” she said to Scot.

  “Sure.”

  “In private.”

  She stepped away and Harvey gestured to the cruiser to let her know he’d be waiting inside.

  “Look Scot, it’s real nice to see you and all but I have a job to do.”

  “C’mon, this is small-town policing. You know, drink coffee, eat donuts, take cats out of the tree. What happened to the old Skylar that would have a beer in the middle of the day?”

  “She’s trying to dial it back.”

  He got this confused expression. “Dial it back?”


  She stuck her hands in her pockets and looked around.

  Scot nodded. “Okay. I see. Well, I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled, trying to not make it any more awkward than it was. “Gotta go.”

  Chapter 13

  A flight to Miami would have taken just under two hours; fortunately they didn’t have to go. Before they embarked on the trip, Harvey had phoned Sunshine Supply and was informed that Tom Reynolds was still in Apalachicola, staying at the Gibson Inn. It was a short journey, taking them less than thirty minutes. On the way over they were discussing the possibility of Tyron having killed Teresa being that he was the last known person to have seen her, and he’d been romantically linked to her prior to her relationship with LaSalle.

  “It could have been his way of getting back at him,” Skylar said.

  “Do you buy that LaSalle would pay someone to hack into his website server?”

  “Seems like a risky move but who knows. Anyway, how did Hanson get on with interviewing Alvaro?”

  “Haven’t heard back. Give him a ring.”

  She nodded and fished out her phone and placed a call to the department. While she waited for them to connect her, Skylar looked out at the cypress trees and pines as they shot by in her peripheral vision. In between she could see the water glistening.

  “Reid, what can I do for yah?” Hanson asked.

  “What’s the update on the Hispanic fella we brought in?”

  She shifted the phone from one ear to the other.

  “Alvaro Dias is a tattoo artist based out of Tampa. He runs his own shop. Some crappy joint in the downtown. Has quite a rap sheet, mind you. Mostly violence and selling drugs.”

  “So he pressed charges against Tyron for battery?”