“Except for hiring me to reinvestigate her father’s murder.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn’t respond.
“Don’t you find it coincidental that Angela hires me and someone shoots her house?”
“I haven’t quit looking into it.”
A crack in the denial. “Thank you.”
“It’s a waste of your time and Angela’s money, but do what you want. Talk to Arley. Once you do, you’ll realize Wofford wasn’t railroaded. Maybe he was too intoxicated to remember what he did, but he shot John Trotter. Take it to the bank. He came off that boat covered in John Trotter’s blood and Arley saw him. No one else was on that boat.”
He slowed the patrol car as we entered a speed zone. Fields stretched on either side of the road, reminding me of the Delta. We closed the distance to the prison, a series of long, flat buildings with guard towers and concertina wire all around the chain-link enclosures. A dozen inmates wearing the traditional prison ring-arounds played basketball in a fenced yard.
“Did you ever look into Remy Renault?” I asked when he’d parked.
“I know who he is. He never came into the case.”
“He told me he and Trotter were partners on the Esmeralda treasure. A gentleman’s agreement. He feels cheated.”
I could tell my news surprised him. “Stay away from Renault. He’s been arrested for assault several times. He’s got a hair-trigger temper, and based on past actions, he doesn’t care if it’s aimed at a woman or a man. The night John was killed, Renault was arrested for fighting. Not the first time, either. A week before, he hit a woman. He’s trouble.”
“A woman?” He was a piece of work. “Do you remember her name?”
“Something from a TV show.” He thought for a moment. “Clampett, like the Beverly Hillbillies. The first name escapes me.”
I was careful to show no reaction. “Thanks for the warning about Renault.” I had one more question. “Why do you think the security cameras at the marina failed to work that one night?”
Chavis got out of the car. When I stood beside him, he looked down at me. “You’ve got half an hour with Wofford. That’s it. This is a waste of my time.”
9
I walked into the visitor’s room, where Larry Wofford was sitting behind a metal table bolted to the floor. I’d been told, repeatedly, that Wofford was a charmer. He was an appealing blend of Elvis Presley, Johnny Depp, and a dash of the rebel James Dean.
He nodded a greeting, waiting for me to state my business. It was clear he had no expectations of this meeting. He was neither beaten down nor tough-guy prison con. While his bad-boy grin should have been on the movie screen, he couldn’t hide the fatigue and lack of hope in his gray eyes.
“What are you? Journalist, writer, film director, curiosity seeker?”
“What do you want me to be?” I asked.
“I’d like for you to be the head of Project Innocence who’s here to tell me you’ve found new evidence to free me.”
So his hope wasn’t dead yet. Badly damaged but not dead. “Angela sent me.”
His soft-spoken reply lazed with a Southern drawl. “She should drop it. She’s wasting her time and her money. I’m in for twenty-five to life. Maybe a chance of parole for good behavior if I don’t annoy the warden and the guards. I can’t say that for certain, but it’s something to work toward.”
“What happened that night, Larry?”
“I’m not telling it again. I’ve told it to a thousand people, and the result is the same. I’ve been convicted. I have to accept this and endure the sentence. I can’t keep getting my hopes up and then crashing down. I won’t do it again. Please tell Angela to stop. She should sell her dad’s boat, take the money, and build a life for herself somewhere far away from Dauphin Island. There’s nothing there for her but reminders of all she’s lost.”
“That’s a smart attitude. I don’t know that I can do anything to make Angela adopt it. She’s a stubborn woman, and she believes you’re innocent. She believes the person who killed her father remains unpunished. That’s tough to put behind you.”
His hands flattened on top of the table, his fingertips gently gripping the metal. “She needs to let this go. Let me go. There’s no justice for her, but the bigger injustice would be to continue to spend her life chasing something she’ll never catch. Guard! Please take me back to my cell.”
I agreed with him. In principle. But not in fact. Justice wasn’t something that could be left behind. It was a basic human need. “I told Angela I’d talk to you. She believes in you enough to foot my bill. Whether you talk to me or not, she’ll pursue this. I might be able to help.”
I wasn’t trying to badger him into talking to me, but he had a right to know Angela was spending her money on his behalf.
“Tell her not to waste her savings. The only thing I did wrong was happen into the wrong place at the wrong time. And then try to help John. They framed me good and proper. I’m caught like a rabbit in a snare. I can’t keep hoping new evidence is suddenly going to appear and clear me.”
“Your case is on appeal. Your lawyer believes in you too.”
He shrugged. “That and a dollar will buy you a cup of coffee.”
He wasn’t cynical; he was trying not to snap under the weight of his circumstances. “Will you answer some questions? If not, Sergeant Chavis is waiting for me. He’s not a patient man.”
“Randy Chavis brought you here? To see me?”
His interest was piqued, as I intended. “Sheriff Benson suggested he bring me. It was the kind of suggestion I couldn’t ignore, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get it. Chavis is a righteous bastard. He set me up. The security cameras didn’t work that night. Right. I don’t know how he convinced Arley to testify against me, but he did. Arley knows me better than that. He knows I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and especially not John Trotter. Sure, we’d argue when we were both drunk and make wild threats. It was all part of the show.”
Wofford might not want to talk about his situation, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Just tell me what happened. One more time couldn’t hurt.” I tapped my watch. “I don’t have long.”
His shoulders slumped, and he leaned forward with his forearms on the edge of the table. “I met John the first day he docked at the marina. We hit it off, and we met most afternoons for a drink or two when I wasn’t out of town on a job. He’d spin some yarns about this treasure hunting. He’d been all over the world. He had tales that would curl your toes. Adventure, brushes with celebrities and rulers of places I’d never heard of. The man was a walking encyclopedia.”
“Did he confide in you about the Couteau treasure?”
“Hell, he talked to everyone on the island about it. That was John’s big flaw. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Especially not when he thought he’d actually found the key to the treasure. He blabbed about it in the post office, the grocery store, the barbershop. I’m surprised he didn’t book himself on a radio talk show. I kept telling him to shut up, but he wouldn’t. He was that excited.”
“The last day, did he mention anything specific about the treasure?”
“You mean the key?”
I nodded.
“Oh, he was drinking and carrying on. I’d never seen him that worked up.”
“What was the key?”
“Damned if I know.” He compressed his lips as if he was done, but then added, “He was reading old journals, always digging around in the library and archives, visiting families who’d been on the island for generations. He and Terrance Snill were thick as thieves.” He was smiling when he said it, letting me know it was a phrase, not a character assassination of his friend.
“Do you believe he threw in with Remy Renault? Remy is claiming he and Trotter had an agreement.”
“I don’t know. Remy had been hanging around the boat. Arley threw him out of the marina. I can’t see John working with him. There were times John was lonely, though. To be hones
t, I didn’t believe in the treasure. It was a pipe dream. Or at least that’s what I thought. You know, John needed something to hang on to. Some magic to put his life in perspective. I thought the treasure was a fantasy, the pot of gold, the big lotto win, the dream that dreamers cling to even when reality proves otherwise.” His gaze intensified, and I felt a chill race up my arms. “Until that last day. I saw him that morning when I was leaving for work. He was on the deck of his boat with a cup of coffee, and he looked sober.”
I was curious about his line of thinking. “What did he say?”
“John said, ‘I found the key. I can find the treasure now.’ Those were his exact words, to the best of my recollection. And he wasn’t full of alcohol or bluster. He was dead serious, and calm. Before, he’d get all excited and make grandiose plans. This time, he was different.”
“But he gave no details?”
“No. John was very precise. It’s one of those crazy things. We both drank way too much. We’d get sloppy with it. But he was a real spit-and-polish guy when it came to his work. Made me think he had a military background the way he kept his boat. Everything put away, neat and all. He was like that when he talked that last day. Careful to say what he meant, but secretive.”
This was exactly the detail I needed. “So did he call you to visit him on the boat, or did you happen by for the traditional evening happy hour?”
Larry frowned. “I was drinking pretty heavily then. I’d finished a job over in the Destin area, and I’d been paid very well.” He took a deep breath. “That was my pattern. I would get a check and then drink it away. When I didn’t have another dime, I’d get another job. It was a vicious cycle. The one thing about being here in jail is that I haven’t had a drink in eighteen months. Maybe I’ve learned to control the addiction. Maybe I’ve licked it.” He chuckled. “Like getting clean will do me any real good.”
“So you don’t remember if John called?”
“I do remember. Vividly. John had hired me to do something for him.”
“Which was?” I had eight minutes left. I needed to get Wofford to the nut of the matter.
“He’d sold an old telescope to the Mobile Maritime Museum back when he was down on his luck. It was antique and a nice piece but not really valuable. John wanted it back. Said it was his good luck charm, and he didn’t want to go after the treasure without it. Sailors are superstitious, in case you haven’t been around a lot of them.”
“I’ve heard stories. Isn’t it bad luck to have a woman on board a boat?”
He cocked an eyebrow, the bad boy coming through. “Only if it’s the wrong woman.” The spark of mischief danced in his eyes before it died.
“So Trotter wanted you to get the telescope from the museum?”
“He tried to buy it, but the curator, that panty-waist Dr. Lionel Prevatt, wouldn’t sell it. Not even when John offered triple what he’d been paid.”
The little hairs on my arms quivered. “Why was John so interested in this telescope? If he was that desperate to get it back, surely he viewed it as more than just a good luck piece.”
“I don’t know. John was a curious man. He had things he loved. Old things. Mostly about sailing. He polished them and cared for them. It was almost as if he had a romance with the sea, the old ways. The spyglass was personal to him, and he wanted it bad. When he couldn’t buy it back, he hired me to steal it.”
This was an unexpected twist, and one I hadn’t heard from Angela. “And did you?”
“I tried. I went to the museum, and there it was in the case just like John told me it would be. I couldn’t get Prevatt distracted long enough to get the damn thing. I used to be a pretty good thief. It should have been simple. But Prevatt watched me like he knew my intentions were dishonorable. He followed me around pretending to tell me about the different pieces and so forth. He acted like he couldn’t trust me to even look at his precious artifacts.”
And with good reason, but I kept my lip zipped. “What was it about the spyglass?”
“John never said. It was special to him and he wanted it back and now he could afford to buy it. He said once he found the treasure, the value of everything connected to him would go up and he’d never be able to get his hands on it. He was right. Prevatt would never part with it, no matter how much John offered. That’s why he decided to steal it instead.”
“How’d it go down?”
“I put on my best suit and went in pretending to be a collector, but Prevatt wouldn’t even take it out of the case so I could hold it. Said it was too valuable. Lying cheat. He only gave John a hundred dollars for it when John was desperate for cash. Anyway, nothing I did could pry Prevatt away from the telescope. So that’s why I stopped by to see John. To tell him I’d failed in my mission. Unfortunately, I’d stopped by a few clubs on my way home. Like five or six. Had I gone back right away, I could have saved him from his killer.”
He stared at the table until he composed himself. “And that’s when I found him dying. I tried to help him. I put pressure on the wound in his chest and tried to stem the blood, but it was useless. I’d lost my cell phone, and John’s was nowhere to be found. I had to make a choice. Try to help him or run for help. He died only minutes after I arrived. You know the rest.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops and report it?”
“He died so quickly. Then I panicked. I knew how it would look, so I ran out, intending to go to my boat. That’s when Arley must have seen me. I got to my boat and drank everything I could put my hands on. I passed out. John was dead, and I wasn’t thinking rationally.”
“Did you ever tell anyone about the telescope?”
“Why paint John to be a thief? Didn’t seem to be a point in hurting Angela.”
The way he said her name told me a lot. He cared for her. In the romantic way. And I had no doubt she returned the emotion. My heart went out to Angela Trotter. She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. She was in love with the man convicted of killing her father. “Were you dating Angela?” I posed the question as gently as I could.
“Absolutely not. She doesn’t need someone like me in her life. She’s a good person. She deserves more than a man who drinks his life away.”
I wasn’t sure that was the proper characterization of Larry Wofford. While he was certainly handsome and obviously had a problem with alcohol, there was more to him than I’d expected.
A tap on the door told me my time was up. “One more thing about Remy. Did you know he’d assaulted a woman?”
He couldn’t follow where I was headed. “He was always a jackass. Beating up on a woman sounds just like him.”
“The woman was Lydia Clampett.”
His reaction was shock. “Lydia? She said her husband hit her. Was she hurt?”
“Not enough to press charges. It just occurred to me, Larry, that the two of them may have played you. Remy kills John and Lydia delivers you into the trap. Think about it.”
“Shit!” The color had drained from his face. “I just met Lydia. She drove me from the bar because I was so drunk. She said she was married and made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t involved with her or anything, but she made it clear her husband would hurt her.” He looked like he wanted to cry. “Shit.”
I took pity on him. “Don’t get your hopes up, but I’m doing what I can.”
“I’m going to take a risk and trust you, Ms. Delaney. So far, my judgment hasn’t been too good.” He signaled me to lean closer to him, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “John found something at Fort Gaines. I have no idea what, but it pertained to the treasure. I’m sure of it.”
“Did he hint at anything?” This might be helpful.
“Believe me, I’d tell Angela if I knew anything. He never gave specifics, but it was the way he acted. The fort plays a role in this.”
Staring into Wofford’s gray eyes, I believed him. “Thanks. You’ll be hearing from me.”
“Don’t waste your time, Ms. Delaney. I won’t be
out until I’m in my sixties. That’s a bitter pill, but best to swallow it and move on. In here, one thing is for certain. I won’t fall off the wagon anytime soon.” His grin, while devil-may-care, couldn’t hide the pain.
When I got outside the room where Wofford was still held, I couldn’t find Chavis. The corridor was empty. Only a moment before, he’d been knocking at the door, urging me to finish.
Footsteps alerted me to someone coming and I turned, expecting the deputy. Instead, a large man in an orange jumpsuit barreled toward me. He clipped me hard with an elbow as he passed. “Watch yourself,” he said.
I couldn’t be certain if it was meant to be a warning or a random accident. But a good PI knows there is no such thing as a coincidence.
10
The ride from the prison back to Mobile was one long silence. Chavis seemed lost in his own thoughts, and I had plenty to chew on. If Chavis had sent the inmate to intimidate me, I wasn’t going to let him know I’d been affected, so that topic was off limits. I did have a few questions about the murder scene.
“Did you find any evidence of a burglary on Trotter’s boat the night he was killed?” I broke the silence.
Chavis chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “No. We looked, but nothing obvious was missing. Of course, no one really knew what John had on the boat, other than the essentials. There wasn’t an inventory of possessions, and John did have a few valuable nautical antiques. Those were untouched.”
The killer could have stolen from the boat and it wouldn’t have been obvious. “Angela wouldn’t have known?” I asked.
“Relations between Angela and John were strained. He loved her, but guilt kept him from acting on it. I know she loved him, but she was angry and hurt. Still, she moved to Mobile and took the job at the Chronicle to be closer to him. Given more time, they would have come to an understanding and put the past aside.”
Booty Bones: A Sarah Booth Delaney Mystery Page 9
