Southernmost Murder

by C. S. Poe

  Jun grunted. “I wonder if they are casual friends or if they hunt treasure together,” he said thoughtfully.

  We watched the three motion to the bartender before pulling out chairs at a tall table to the left of the room. They sank into a comfortable chatter, sipping beers like they’d done this routine a thousand times.

  “They don’t seem too broken up,” I whispered.

  “If they are Cassidy’s friends, they might not know about what happened yet.”

  “Or if they do,” I said, “a million-dollar treasure split three ways instead of four? Could be reason enough for some people, you know?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself without first knowing the facts.” Jun stood and grabbed the freebie Corona. “Ready to do a bit of acting?”

  I hopped down, took my Indiana Jones hat, and nodded. “Yup.” I slipped around Jun and headed over to the table. “Hey, everyone,” I stated.

  Josh So-And-So, I swear he was built sideways as much as Jun was tall, looked up from his drink. “Look at the tiny sprout we’ve got today. When’d you start working here, buddy? We’ll have the usual—ask Frank in the kitchen what that means.”

  Oh for—I felt my eyelid twitch. “I’m… uh, not your waiter,” I said awkwardly. “Aubrey Grant. I manage the Smith Home.”

  “Is that so?” Josh asked. “Didn’t recognize you.”

  Peg laughed and shoved him roughly. “Didn’t recognize the person signing your paycheck?”

  “Must be the angle,” Josh said jokingly. “I’m usually on a ladder, and he’s so… short.”

  Ha-ha. Guess who wasn’t being hired back to finish my restoration project?

  “I’m Curtis Leon,” the second man said, reaching out to shake my hand. “These are friends of mine. Peg Hart, and this Grade-A asshole you know already, Josh Moore. Pull up a seat.”

  Jun grabbed two chairs, and I sat first before he slid in beside me.

  “Who’s your friend?” Peg asked me, giving Jun a wink and chugging her beer.

  “Jun Tanaka,” I said, motioning to him. “He’s visiting the island.”

  “Yeah? Well, be careful,” she said to Jun. “Once you step foot here, it’s impossible to leave. That’s why I still have a husband.”

  Jun smiled politely in response while everyone laughed.

  Ohhh… I knew what he was doing. He was being the nice guy, the quiet and unassuming one, like when he worked with Matt. Matt was usually the loud, in your face, don’t fuck with me sort of Fed. The good-cop, bad-cop tactic.

  Jun didn’t expect me to be the bad guy, though, did he? Because, at best, I just do bitchy.

  He was letting me lead because I knew these folks, or at least knew of them. I lived in Old Town, I worked here, I could (in theory) speak easier with them about Cassidy. If he did the questioning, maybe they’d peg him as a cop and get spooked. That is, if they were guilty of something.

  “I don’t think we’ve seen you poke your head in Barnacles before,” Curtis stated.

  “No, I’m usually at Sea Shack.”

  “Tourist trap,” Josh grunted, crossing his huge arms, which were brown from years in the sun.

  “Ah, I suppose, but the smell of cigarette smoke makes me want to light up,” I replied, waving my hand vaguely.

  “We all gotta die sometime—might as well go out doing what you love,” Josh answered.

  I glanced at Jun and saw his eyes narrow slightly.

  “So, what brought you over this way today?” Curtis asked, clearly the most pleasant of the three.

  “Lou Cassidy, actually,” I said. “Was he close with you all?”

  “What do you mean, was?” Peg asked, setting her beer down.

  Curtis hung his head briefly before letting out a long sigh. “Lou’s dead, Peg.”

  “What?” she cried out.

  “Dead?” Josh echoed.

  Curtis looked up. “I was visiting Glen over at Key Pirates early this morning. The police showed up and were questioning him about Lou. He… he was murdered late last night. I didn’t want to say anything yet….”

  Peg’s eyes were as big as saucers, and something told me she wasn’t faking this shock. So, not suspicious, although that alone wasn’t reason enough to write her off as guiltless. “Dear God. What happened? That poor bastard!”

  “That’s actually why I’m here,” I stated. “He was found in the Smith Home. It looks like he had broken in, and there was some kind of scuffle that…. Well, and he died,” I simply concluded.

  “You accusing Lou of trying to rob that place?” Josh asked defensively. “Lou was a damn good guy, and you’re saying he would have risked his neck to steal what, exactly? A fucking deck of old playing cards?”

  “Hey!” I piped up. “I didn’t say that at all. And those cards are worth a few hundred bucks, thank you.”

  Curtis held his hands out, trying to silence the table. “Guys, come on. The fact is, we don’t know what happened yet. Josh, Aubrey here is right. The cops said Lou was found upstairs in the Smith Home, and how can we explain his presence there? He wasn’t an employee—he didn’t have keys.”

  “Bastard had to have been drunk,” Peg said sadly, shaking her head.

  “I only wanted to give you all my condolences,” I told Josh firmly. “I was told you were good friends of his.” Okay, so that was more of a guess on my part, but luckily for me, I’d been right.

  Curtis nodded and spoke for Josh. “Thank you. It’s nice of you to come down here.”

  Peg held up her glass and wiped under one eye. “To Lou, the best damn hunter if there ever was one.”

  Curtis and Josh obediently raised their glasses, clinked against hers, and took long chugs of beer.

  “Cassidy was a hunter?” I asked. I figured that didn’t mean he hunted Bambi, and I was hoping to get a bit more out of the group before being dismissed.

  Peg burped and patted her chest. “Treasure hunter. He was a natural.”

  “Oh.” I rubbed my sweaty palms against my thighs. “Did he ever find anything, like… famous?”

  “He was hot on the trail of One-Eyed Jack’s lost stash.”

  “Peg,” Josh said. “We don’t need folks inviting themselves into the hunt.”

  “Believe me, do I look like the sort of guy who gets his hands dirty?” I asked Josh.

  “Lou claimed a lot of things,” Curtis interrupted. “He was still researching.”

  “I guess he was pretty dedicated to Jack,” I said absently. “He was designing an exhibit for Glen.”

  Peg nodded. “Sure was. Jack was Captain Smith, you know.” She finished off her beer and waved to the bar for another.

  “I’m sure Aubrey has done his own research,” Curtis told Peg. He looked at me and smiled. “Right?” He was kind of cute. Tall, well-built, messy auburn hair.

  “Ah, right,” I said. “I didn’t exactly come to the same conclusion.”

  “Then you’re wrong,” Peg stated frankly. She combed back some dyed red hair from her eyes. “Captain Rogers identified Jack as Smith. It’s in his diary.”

  “Peg,” Curtis said, putting a hand on hers. “Aubrey probably doesn’t appreciate being told he’s wrong.”

  Rogers. Rogers… I knew that name…. I yawned and shook my head quickly, trying to fight off the desire for a nap. “Rogers was a—a merchant ship captain. European furniture, I believe. His ship was stranded on the reefs his first time out here, and Smith was the wrecker who came to his aid.”

  Peg shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about any of that, only that Lou has his diary and there’s some entry about Rogers seeing Captain Jack disembarking from the Red Lady and slipping into a shanty. The next thing he knew, out stepped Smith, looking every bit like a respectable gentleman.”

  I looked at Jun’s profile quickly. Now I was awake. “Lou owns Roger’s diary?”

  Danger, Will Robinson!

  Captain Roger’s diary was reported as stolen from a tiny museum in St. Augustine about a year ago. But maybe
Peg didn’t know that. Maybe she also didn’t know that, as the manager of a museum myself, I stayed on top of reports of theft, and with a history in pawnshops and a friend in antiques, we all kept in contact with one another and were pretty well-informed.

  And it just so happens that stealing an item of cultural significance from a museum was a federal offense. Hmm. I’d be damned. Here I was, sitting right beside a federal agent too.

  “Peg,” Curtis tried again. “You’re offending Aubrey.”

  “No, I—” I was cut off by Josh.

  “I think Aubrey best leave anyway. Our friend is dead, and he’s pegged Lou a common criminal.” He pointed at Jun. “Take this fuck with you too.”

  “Josh!” Curtis shouted.

  “No, it’s fine,” Jun said, finally speaking. He slowly stood, taking a moment to grab one last sip of beer and rub it in Josh’s face that he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “You all have a pleasant afternoon.”

  I hopped down from the chair, watching Jun make for the door. “By the way,” I said, grabbing my hat before looking at Josh. “He’s FBI. You may want to not be such an asshole in the future.”

  Josh’s face paled and he glanced at his buddies.

  Seeing him finally at a loss for words felt really damn good. “Uh-huh. See ya.” I walked out and joined Jun on the sidewalk. “Sorry about that.”

  He looked down. “Why are you sorry?”

  I shrugged. “Well, I know Josh won’t apologize for being a cock… so….”

  Jun smiled slightly and put his arm around my shoulders, squeezing.

  I put my hat on and tilted the brim back to look at Jun. “Captain Roger’s diary,” I began. “Did you know it was reported as stolen from a museum last year?”

  He raised a perfect eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Doesn’t the FBI look into museum theft?” I asked in a playful tone.

  “That they do.”

  “And if he broke into my museum with the possible intent to take something,” I continued, “isn’t it conceivable he has more than a stolen diary in his possession?”

  Jun looked thoughtful before he moved his arm, pulled out his wallet, and chose a card. He took his phone out of his other pocket and dialed the number. “Detective Tillman?”

  I put my hands on my hips. Jun was such a sneaky bastard.

  “Agent Tanaka. I’d like to set aside some time to speak with you today about Lou Cassidy.”

  Chapter Nine

  “BUT WHY do you think he agreed to talk with you?” I asked Jun. I paid the cashier in the shop we’d ducked into so I could buy some candy before I imploded and tackled the nearest person on the street to steal their cigarettes. “Do you think he found stolen artifacts at Cassidy’s home and knows the FBI has jurisdiction?”

  “I doubt that’s the case,” Jun said, holding the door open for me as we walked out. “But local law enforcement tends to listen when we pull the agent card.”

  “But the FBI can look into Cassidy now, if they wanted?”

  “The Art Crime Team would likely want to, yes,” Jun answered. “And if it boils down to me having to make phone calls to get Tillman’s cooperation, I know an agent in Miami on the team that might be able to help.”

  I stopped walking. “Not… Matt or—”

  “No.” Jun crossed his arms. “Matt’s still with Organized Crime. He took a transfer to Boston.”

  My shoulders loosened. “Okay. Good. I had to check.” I ripped open a bag of Skittles, a few falling to the ground and bouncing across the sidewalk. “Crap.”

  “Come on, Indy.” Jun led the way back to the rental car, and we got in.

  I put the hat, which I was now likely to never live down, in the back seat before offering Jun some candy. “I took pictures of Cassidy’s displays in the museum.”

  “Did you?” he asked before popping the Skittles into his mouth.

  “I figured it might be important.”

  “Smart. With the owner’s permission?”

  “Totally.”

  Jun nodded, starting the car. “You’ll need to direct me to Tillman’s office.”

  I gave him directions to get out of Old Town, as we needed to head over to Stock Island, where the Monroe County Sheriff’s major crimes unit worked. It was less than a twenty-minute drive, not that I went there often. I got nervous just driving to New Town, because that pushed the extent of my safety with narcolepsy. But Jun driving was fine. It was just too bad nothing was ever easy when tourists ignore Do Not Cross signs and bike on the wrong side of the road. In a sense, Key West was very much a miniature New York City.

  I took out my phone and opened the photos folder. I swiped through the pictures I’d taken, ruminating on the idea that an additional galleon existed and that maybe, just maybe, Smith had lived a double life as a famous pirate. “What did you think of that band of merrymen?” I murmured.

  “I believe that Peg honestly had no idea Cassidy had been killed.”

  “I agree.”

  “I’m not a fan of that Mr. Moore,” Jun continued.

  “You better believe I’m not hiring him back to finish the rest of the house’s interior.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Jun replied. “I don’t like coincidences. Him having access to the house, as well as being the friend of the murdered intruder, doesn’t sit well with me.”

  I plucked absently at the pink rubber case of my phone. “I don’t like it either. Gives me indigestion.” I looked at Jun’s profile. “What are you thinking?”

  “Was he ever left alone in the home?”

  “Sure. I didn’t babysit the painters. They finished the first floor about two weeks ago. I didn’t want to schedule the paint job during the busy season, but the board took so goddamn long to approve the project, that was the only slot of time they had to offer me.”

  “By all accounts Josh could have discovered the broken window latch during their work in the parlor. Or even broken it himself.”

  Fuck. “I found remnants of paint on the latch yesterday,” I answered. “Plus, he’s a big guy. And he has a beard, like Ghost Smith.” I looked at Jun again. “Is that probable cause?”

  He shook his head. “Speculation.”

  “But you think he’s guilty?”

  “Of something,” Jun said. “I’d be interested in knowing about any alibis he might have for last night.”

  “I’m making you get involved.”

  Jun glanced sideways.

  “We should stop.”

  “It’s just an unofficial meeting with Tillman,” Jun said calmly.

  “But this is your vacation. We’re spending it being snoops.”

  “Technically I’m a concerned boyfriend with connections. You’re Indiana, who’s all excited about changing history.”

  I laughed and punched his arm lightly.

  Jun chuckled. “Don’t worry, Aubrey. I want to talk with Tillman. Let me do that so it puts my mind at ease. Then we’ll get back to beach-lounging and sightseeing.”

  I started to reluctantly agree, but then the phone in my hand went off and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  Jun put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s just the phone.”

  I shook myself firmly and started to swipe to accept the call. “Oh my God, it’s that blocked caller again!” I quickly answered. “Hello?”

  Static.

  “Hello?” I tried again.

  Jun took the phone from my hand and put it to his ear, driving one-handed. “Who is this?” he demanded.

  I yanked the seat belt and leaned close, listening beside Jun.

  And then the same deep, gravelly, creepy-as-fuck voice answered Jun. “Smith.”

  Jun pulled the phone back and looked at the screen. “Hung up.”

  I swallowed and took the cell. “I’m too smart to believe that the disembodied spirit of Captain Smith is haunting my phone. Right?”

  “Yes.” Jun kept his eyes firmly on the road.

  “Except, what if the skeleton
is Smith and I disturbed his final resting place. Like, a curse or something?”

  “Aubrey.”

  “I know it’s nuts, but there’s a real mystery behind Smith’s death. Now the skeleton in his house, the person I saw last night, and this? I don’t believe ghosts, but—” I whined and waved my hands. “At the same time… I don’t have an answer for any of it!”

  “That’s why we went to Key Pirates. And why we spoke with Cassidy’s friends and now Tillman. Because someone living is behind this and they’ve upset you, so now they answer to me.”

  I snorted loudly. “Weird stuff always happens to me, but this? What the hell, right? I used to think the strangest thing I’d been a part of was a naked crackhead who came into Gold Guys back in New York, asking for fifty bucks in exchange for his testicles. But murder and ghosts?”

  “And pirates,” Jun added dryly.

  “How could I forget,” I grumbled.

  “I’ll make sure Tillman’s on the right path,” Jun promised. “I’m not leaving in a week and a half if I’m at all concerned for your well-being.”

  I looked down at my phone. I was gripping it hard between my hands. “Matt never said anything like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just… defending me.”

  “Aubrey.”

  I looked at him.

  Jun glanced away from the road and said, “I’m not Matt.”

  And thank God for that.

  I smiled and nodded. “I know. I’m glad.” I leaned my head against the passenger window. Not that I was as loopy as my pal Sebastian to enjoy crime solving and dead people or whatever it was that he’d been doing up in New York, but a part of me was sort of enthralled by this. Not the breaking-in and murdering part, but the historical part. I don’t like being wrong, but I’m a big enough man (ha-ha) to admit when I am. And if there was a whole other life Smith led that I hadn’t authenticated?

  Exciting.

  Much more so than spending the day shopping on Duval.

  “Do you think there really is a long-lost pirate treasure?” Jun asked after a few moments.

  “I’d be lying if I said I hope not.”