Mangrove Madness: An Ernestine Ernie Pratt Mystery (Ernestine Ernie Pratt Adventures Book 1)

by J. C. Ferguson

  I look at Jeremy. Can you give me a little help here? I ask with my eyes.

  “The more information you give us, the better it will be for you.” Jeremy half-heartedly offers.

  “All I know is the captain’s name was Farrell.” Palmieri sighs. “I believe there were three others with him.”

  “If you don’t know their names, how were you going to find them at the Beach?” I ask.

  “The beach? Do you mean Fisherman’s Island? We were not searching for people.”

  No, you dope. You were looking for drugs on my little piece of paradise.

  “No, I mean Fort Myers Beach. You ransacked a house on the Beach, looking for George Stark and Bruce Mondrone.”

  “I have no idea what you are referring to.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

  I look to Jeremy again. I’m not sure if I can tell Palmieri that someone at the house identified him.

  Jeremy takes over. “We have witnesses to that break-in. An assault charge is pending that might disappear if you tell Ms. Pratt what she wants to know.”

  Palmieri leans forward, his arms still folded across his chest. “Since you put it that way, the names of the sailboat crew are Jack Farrell, George Stark, and Bruce Mondrone. Is there anything else I can assist you with?” Of course he hasn’t added any names we haven’t already mentioned.

  “I thought you said Captain Farrell and three others.” Allison speaks for the first time.

  I give her a little headshake. I don’t want her to mention Alex. Let’s see if Palmieri knows with his name.

  “Possibly the fourth man departed when drugs were introduced.” Palmieri appears bored, as though we interrupted a business meeting with trivial questions.

  “And to where might he have departed? Where were they when drugs became part of the deal?” I ask.

  “It may have been the Caymans, or Jamaica. I was not present. Drugs are not my business.”

  And the moon is made of green cheese.

  “Do you know the other man’s name?” Allison asks.

  “No, I only know the names of the people my friend wanted me to look up.” He gives Allison a flash of white teeth.

  “Did you find any of those people?” I ask.

  “No.” He stares directly into my eyes. He’s lying.

  “Did you give the police the name of the friend for whom you were doing this favor?” Damn! His uppity language is catching.

  “Most certainly not. When they drop all the charges against me, I may give them my friend’s name.”

  As I turn to leave, I can’t resist a snipe at Mr. Palmieri. “I do wish I had been able to attend your performance on the island. I would have enjoyed seeing you running from the mangroves with an alligator nipping at your buttocks.”

  #

  “Who is this guy, Palmieri?” I ask Jeremy on the way to the airport.

  “He’s a high-paid Rhode Island lawyer. Mafia connections. Could be helping to finance the import of drugs. Maybe he’s moving his share to the Northeast.”

  “I can’t picture him running around in the mangroves. Did he wear a designer suit and shiny black shoes?”

  Jeremy and Allison both laugh.

  “Couldn’t tell, he was covered with mud.” Jeremy parks in the arrival drive-thru at the airport, where we lowly plebeians are never allowed to linger or leave our cars.

  “There’s a disturbance in the baggage handling area I need to check. I’ll see the two of you later at my house.”

  I watch Jeremy walk away. “I don’t know about you, Allison, but I’m curious.”

  “Sure, let’s see what the disturbance is.” She’s always game.

  We follow Jeremy down the row of baggage carousels. People are milling about, crowding around the belts that deliver bags, pushing, and shoving. Few people play it smart and stand out of the way to wait. I hear stories about lost luggage with this airport. Sometimes it goes into a black hole, never to be found.

  Jeremy disappears through a door into the secret world behind baggage claim. Security stops Allison and me, so we head for the doors to pick-up and parking.

  A scream gets my attention, and I turn to see a scattering crowd around one of the luggage belts. People run in every direction, yelling, screaming, sobbing, falling over one another in their hurry to get away. I move against the tide, toward the carousel, to see what’s happening.

  Lying on the belt, which chugs slowly around in a circle, is a crumpled body with limbs bent at impossible angles. Allison turns and throws up. I feel like I’m watching a rerun, except this time I recognize the face on the body. It’s Che Brown, the Miami drug dealer.

  Chapter 36

  “Let’s go.” I pull Allison toward the door of the terminal. “If we hang around we’ll have to fill out another police report.” What if the dead guy shot Gorilla Bob’s Hummer? What if he was shooting at us? I don’t mention this heart-stopping thought to Allison.

  As soon as we reach the car, I call Jeremy. “If you haven’t found it yet, there’s a body on the baggage return.”

  “Oh, shit! Where are you, Pratt?”

  “In your car, leaving.”

  “Later.” He’s gone before I can tell him who it is.

  “Do you want to go straight to Jeremy’s or is there somewhere else you need to go?”

  Allison doesn’t answer. She stares out the window, off in another world, maybe in shock.

  “Are you okay?” I cut across traffic into McDonald’s.

  Some old coot honks at me as I pull into the drive-thru in front of him. He screams, “Crazy bitch driver!” No sense of humor. I wave.

  I order a large coke and hand it to Allison. “This might help. I’ll get you something stronger when we get to Jeremy’s.”

  As we pull into traffic, Allison takes a swig of coke, swishes it in her mouth, and spits it violently out the window, hitting the window of the car next to us. I hit the gas and the Supra leaps forward. Quick turn at the next intersection. We don’t need another crazed road rage incident.

  “Sorry.” Allison scrunches down in her seat with a har, har, har. “I was cleaning my mouth. It tasted like puke.”

  I can’t help but laugh with her. Why is it we humans joke about horrible things? I can’t get the picture of that mangled body clear of my mind. The one last week didn’t bother me that much. I blanked him out. Maybe because I didn’t know him from Adam. This guy I’d seen before—almost met. It’s getting too close to home.

  “Do you think Alex is alive?” Must be hitting too close for Allison, too.

  “I don’t know any reason why he wouldn’t be alive. He’s probably in Jamaica or the Caymans like that Palmieri guy said. Having the time of his life.”

  “I want to look for him. Will you come with me?”

  “Let’s see if we can track him, first.”

  #

  At Jeremy’s house, we raid the kitchen. Two Coronas, some celery and cream cheese, chips, salsa, and nuts are spread on the coffee table. Feet up, television on. Too bad the football game’s not on yet. We settle for some talk show interviewing anorexics. The skinny, bony women remind me of Susan.

  “Ever been anorexic?” I ask.

  “Nope. But if we keep this up, I could become bulimic.” She waves at the food in front of us.

  “I can’t even heave when I’m sick.”

  “You turned a little pale back at the airport,” Allison says. “I thought you might join me.”

  “I’m more likely to pass out.” I haven’t told her I recognized the dead guy.

  One of the skinny girls on TV is crying.

  “Nice subject, Ernie. Can we watch something else?”

  I flick to an old John Wayne movie.

  “Okay. Tell me about your brother. What’s he like? What does he do? How was it growing up with him?”

  “Next subject.” She puts down the bowl of chips and looks like she’s going to cry.

  Don’t go all sappy on me again, Allison. That’s what got me
to take her home with me in the first place. I haven’t talked to her much since. She’s been twenty-four seven with Bert.

  “I’m serious,” I tell her. “I want to know because it might give me a clue about where to find him.”

  She’s quiet for a minute. “He’s like me. We think alike, laugh alike, talk alike.”

  “Jeez, I hope he doesn’t really laugh like you.”

  She ignores my dig. “We did everything together until I started dating Tony. We even went to our high school prom with each other, because neither of us was dating at the time. We went to Harvard together, took the same classes, studied together, everything.”

  “That’s a little sicko.” Pratt, you say the nicest things. “I mean it’s like... Can’t think of the word...” Incestuous comes to mind but I don’t say it. “Insular. Can’t get along in this world without a few friends.” I can relate to being close to your only sibling, but Bert and I had our own lives.

  “I know. We were like some old married couple.” She looks at me and giggles, her face a little pink. “But no sex.”

  “Whew! Glad you clarified that.”

  “We do have some friends. But after our parents died, we stayed together most of the time.”

  “When your parents died, did you have relatives to take care of you?”

  “Sally, a friend of our mother, looked after us, moved in with us. She kept the state from placing us in foster care. She may have been named guardian in the will. Our only relatives were some aunts and uncles and cousins in California, and a grandmother in a nursing home. No one we were close to.” Allison is holding up pretty well, no tears. But she’s shoveling food in her face between words. Stress eating.

  John Wayne rides across the screen shooting bad guys, interrupting. I turn off the sound.

  “We had enough money. College funds had been put in trust. And then there was compensation money because of 9/11.”

  A thought hits me. “Have you checked on Alex’s money? Has he withdrawn a bunch? Does he have enough to live on?”

  “Can I do that without going to court?”

  “Didn’t you have joint accounts, like an old married couple?” I grin.

  She chuckles. “No, we didn’t do that. But we have some stock and investments together.”

  She’s way out of my league money-wise. Stock and investments, phew!

  “If there’s some legal hassle looking into his accounts, maybe Jeremy can cut through it, being a cop. We’ll ask him.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Speaking of money, I noticed you paid me with a joint account. If you’re getting a divorce, you’d better withdraw your money now.”

  “You think Tony would take my money?” She can’t be that trusting, can she?

  “Tony may have already cleaned you out. There’s no such thing as a friendly divorce. People get greedy and vindictive.”

  She sits with her mouth open staring at me.

  “You have money and Tony doesn’t. Right?”

  “He’s in law school. How could he have money?”

  “You’re paying for his school?”

  “Yes, this year. He paid ’til now. Or his parents did.”

  “I’ll bet Alex thought Tony was a mooch, spending your money.”

  “He didn’t like Tony.” Wrinkles appear on her forehead, more than I thought that smooth young face was capable of. “I always thought he was jealous of Tony. Maybe he was looking out for my best interests.”

  “Maybe.” I don’t understand the guilt trip she’s on. “Did you fight with Alex before he left?” That’s the standard reason for guilt, isn’t it? You have a fight, say nasty things, and someone dies or disappears. Guilt trip forever.

  “Well, yeah.” Deep sigh from Allison. “We fought from the time I got engaged ’til the time I got married. Then he said he was going to leave me alone so I could get on with my life with Tony. And he disappeared.”

  “What exactly did you fight about?”

  “Alex accused Tony of being connected. You know, Mafia. But Tony’s family is nice. His mom and dad are sweet hard working people. The problem is, Tony would feed Alex’s fantasy, talk about his ‘family’ connections. None of it was real.” She munches more chips and stares at the silent TV. “And yes, he thought Tony was after my money.”

  She abruptly stands and heads for the kitchen. “Gotta make some calls.”

  Every woman who gets a divorce thinks it’s her fault and feels guilty in the beginning. They get past it when things get nasty. At least every divorce I know about. With Allison, it’s as if she divorced her brother and now her husband. Two for the price of one. Never get married, Pratt. Too much trouble.

  I decide to see if her check bounced. I use Jeremy’s computer in his office and check my bank account. It’s there, but it hasn’t cleared. Hasn’t bounced yet, either.

  “Ernie, where are you?”

  “In here. Jeremy’s office.”

  “He emptied our account. You were right.” Now the tears start.

  “How bad is it?”

  “About a hundred grand.”

  “More than I’ve ever had in any account, running total even.”

  She manages a smile. “He doesn’t have access to my stocks and investments. I’ll be fine. It just hurts to know he would do that to me.”

  “Did you do a pre-nup?”

  “What? A prenuptial agreement? That’s cold. If you love someone why would you think about money?”

  “I guess to protect yourself.”

  She frowns and shrugs. “Sally controls the investments. She’s the friend of our mother who took care of us. She’s a financial advisor. She said something about protecting them for me, but I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Could Sally tell us about Alex’s finances?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Call Sally. See if she protected you from Tony and if she knows about Alex’s money. I’m going to watch TV.” I head for the living room and she follows like a puppy dog. I’m starting to get annoyed with her ostrich ways. And I might be a wee bit envious of her money.

  “Oh, and see if you can replace my check when it bounces.” I don’t like the idea of working for nothing. I’m aggravated with myself. When I heard she was getting a divorce, I knew in my heart it would bounce. I start stuffing my face with chips. Stress eating. I break out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “We were watching these skinny chicks, talking about eating disorders. And I’m eating myself to death, getting fatter by the minute.” I put the bowl of chips on the table. “I need to laugh things off.”

  “Yeah, I do that eating thing, too. And you’re right about humor. Gets rid of the stress. At least sometimes.” She tries to smile but it doesn’t exactly come off. “At least you can’t stuff your face while you’re laughing.”

  “Call Sally and get stressed some more.”

  She runs off to the kitchen for privacy, popping back in a few minutes later.

  “Bring more chips.” I hold up the bowl, which I’ve managed to empty.

  She returns with two more Coronas and a monster bag of chips.

  “What’s the verdict?” I ask.

  “Sally’s my lifesaver. Everything except cash is protected. I didn’t know it, but Tony even signed agreements.” She starts to get teary again. “If he’d asked me for the money in the bank, I would have given it to him. He didn’t need to steal it.”

  She starts flipping channels, landing on the news.

  “I’m embarrassed. I have a degree in Business and Finance. I should at least be able to keep track of my bank account.” She grins about this. Good sign.

  The news guy is talking about the latest “husband-killing-wife” trial.

  “Well at least Tony didn’t shoot you. Seems to be a lot of that going on these days.”

  “It’s not over.” She turns up the sound and dives into the food.

  “How about Alex’s accounts? Can Sally help?” I change the subje
ct.

  “She’s trustee for all our money until we’re twenty-five. She’ll check on Alex’s bank account tomorrow, but she said he hasn’t touched his securities and investments.”

  “So, Sally takes care of your money. Does she do all your investing?”

  “Oh, no. Alex and I had a contest while we were in college to see who could make the most money. I won, but not by much. We both had more when we graduated than when we started, even paying our way.”

  “Is that what you do for entertainment, play with money?”

  “Nah, that’s business. But we do compete with most everything. School, skiing, sailing, tennis, soccer, you name it.”

  “Business? Is that what you planned to do after college? Just invest your money?”

  “Alex and I were going start a business together. We were going to be Angels.”

  “Hey, you may be a sweet kid, but you’re no angel.”

  That gets a har, har from her. “Business Angels are investors. Like venture capitalists. We invest in startups in return for equity. It’s a gamble like anything else, but if you’re good at picking companies it can be very profitable. You need due diligence.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know, checking on every tiny little thing about a company before you invest.”

  “Sounds like what I do every day but without tons of profit. Tell me more about the skiing, sailing stuff.” I settle into the couch, dive into the bowl of nuts, and flip through channels for something worth watching.

  By the time Jeremy gets home, I’ve heard all the growing up stories of Alex and Allison. Little rich kids playing their way through life. I have a creeping suspicion that Alex is missing because of his money. I’m surprised someone hasn’t asked for a ransom.

  Chapter 37

  Jeremy strolls in around nine. Allison and I have a football game on the television without sound, trying to decide which player has the best ass. Empty beer bottles and food containers litter the coffee table.

  “You gals want dinner?” Jeremy asks.