Saving Farley's Bog

by Don Sawyer

  “You’re a real son of a bitch, Tommy,” Didi was saying. Her words were not loud. But they were filled with hate. “You set me up. You put the money in there long enough for me to check it out. Then you pulled it.”

  “Take it easy, Di,” a man’s voice answered. “It’s not like that. We just ran a little short. Cash flow problem. We just, you know, sort of borrowed the money from your account. You’ll get it.”

  “Yeah?” Didi hissed. “You bastards. You wanted Maxwell out of town. You never mentioned killing him. Now I’m looking at an accessory charge. Or worse.”

  “Shut up!” the man on the other line snarled. “This line could be tapped.”

  “No one’s listening in on my goddamned phone, Tommy. I’m in the middle of friggin’ nowhere. And even if they were, what do they hear? That you murdered Maxwell? And then double-crossed me?”

  “Listen, bitch,” Tommy snapped dangerously. “You’re into this up to your phony tits. Don’t start getting smart with me.”

  Stitch could hear Didi take a deep breath. “Tommy, all I want is my money. You promised me a hundred thou. It was in my account. Now it’s gone.”

  There was a silence on the other end. “OK, Di. Let’s not get sore with each other. We’ve known each other for a long time. I’ll have the money in your account tomorrow morning.”

  “Early? I want to get the hell out of here.”

  “Yeah, early. I’ll have a cab waiting for you at the hotel. Eight o’clock. You’re at the Douglas Plantation?”

  “Yes.”

  The man on the other end hung up. Stitch quickly pushed Call Log. The number Didi had called was displayed: 416-211-3721. He jotted the number down on his napkin. A Toronto number. Then he pushed the speed dial for the office. Erin was waiting at the other end.

  “Picture received,” Stitch said into the phone. “It confirmed that it’s Didi down here. Check out this number for me: 416-211-3721.”

  There was a short pause as Erin wrote the number down. “Got it, boss. I’ll be back to you in a minute.”

  “20 seconds would be better.”

  Stitch put the scanner back into his case. He continued to watch Didi through the bougainvillea. She stared at her cell phone for a few seconds. Then she slipped it back into her purse. She took a deep drag from her cigarette.

  The BlackBerry vibrated. Stitch pulled it out and pushed the talk button.

  “Stitch,” Erin began. “Be careful. You’ve got a tiger by the tail.”

  “Whatcha got for me, Erin.”

  “That is Tommy Cecconi’s personal phone number. I had to use every trick in the book to ID it.”

  Stitch whistled under his breath. Tommy. Tommy Cecconi. Of course. “Didi’s ex,” Stitch said.

  “Yeah, among other things. Those would include racketeer, murderer, drug lord and all-around bad guy.”

  “Thanks for the synopsis.”

  “Do you need anything else, Stitch?”

  “How did that Warren Zevon song go? ‘Send lawyers, guns and money.’”

  “I’m serious, boss. This is getting heavy.”

  Stitch had been keeping an eye on Didi as they spoke. Now he noticed that she was getting up from her table.

  “Gotta run. Just keep that cell phone on, eh?”

  “24-7,” Erin said.

  Stitch started to get up as the waitress showed up with the beer. “Here you are, sir. One damned-near frozen Carib.”

  Didi was halfway to the gate. Stitch frantically thumbed through his wallet. All he could find was a US $20. He slapped it onto the table. “Keep the change.”

  The woman blinked at the $20 bill. “I can’t take that. You didn’t even drink your beer.”

  “Changed my mind,” Stitch muttered as he headed toward the gate. “I never drink before noon. But you are one super waitress.”

  Didi had disappeared. Stitch ran through the gate. A cab had pulled over on the side of the road. Didi had opened the back door and was climbing in. Stitch rushed to the open window.

  “Did I hear you say you were going to Douglas Plantation?”

  Didi looked up, startled. “Why, yes. I guess you did.”

  “I’m staying there too,” Stitch smiled. “Would it be OK if we shared the cab? Cheaper you know.”

  Didi paused for a moment. Her eyes were dark with irritation. But she was caught. “I suppose so,” she said unenthusiastically.

  Stitch went around the back of the cab. He opened the driver side door and slid in beside her.

  “Thanks,” Stitch grinned. “Cabs are so expensive down here. Don’t you think?”

  Didi stared out the window. “Umm,” she agreed.

  Stitch studied her face as the cab pulled from the curb. She was still beautiful. But she didn’t look as young up close. Lines furrowed her forehead. Her full, red lips pulled down at the corners. Frown lines creased each side of her chin. Her nose was cute and perfect. The best money could buy, Stitch figured.

  There were several minutes of silence as the cab headed for the high road. “Are you vacationing here?” Stitch asked.

  Didi shifted her gaze at him as if she’d forgotten he was in the car. “Business, actually,” she replied.

  Stitch lifted his eyebrows in interest. “Business. What line of work are you in?”

  Didi turned back to the window. “Banking.”

  “Banking. How fascinating. I understand there are a lot of offshore banks down here. Some that aren’t completely legitimate. Is that right?”

  Didi fixed him with a look of mixed amusement and contempt. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  Stitch noticed Didi’s spectacular green eyes. He nodded. “I’ll bet there’s a lot of money laundering going on. Drug money.”

  Didi looked at him more sharply. “I wouldn’t know.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments. “You’re a gorgeous woman.”

  Didi half turned her head. She glanced at him but said nothing.

  “I mean like really stunning.” Stitch shook his head. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but it’s like I’ve seen you before.” Stitch looked at her, an embarrassed grin on his face. “Are you an actress or something?”

  Didi turned her face back toward the window. She said nothing.

  Stitch was quiet for a moment as if he were thinking. “I know!” Stitch burst out. “You’re Didi Rose! I used to see you at the Cascade Club in Toronto. You were one of the top exotic dancers in Canada.”

  Didi kept looking out the window. “Actually in the world,” she said at last. “I performed across Europe and the US.”

  “Wow,” Stitch said. “Didi Rose. Right here in the cab with me.” He shook his head. “I’m not really into strippers. But you were something else. Man, you were the best.”

  Didi slowly turned toward Stitch. A small smile played on her lips. “Thank you, Mr. ___?”

  “Robinson. Stitch Robinson.” He held out his hand. “But please. Call me Stitch.”

  Didi took his hand softly. “Nice to meet you, Stitch.”

  The cab pulled up in front of the hotel. Stitch got out quickly and opened Didi’s door. She swung her black high-heeled shoes onto the driveway and took Stitch’s hand. “Well,” she smiled. “There are still gallant men in the world.”

  Stitch walked to the driver and gave him the fare. He turned back to Didi. “Look, I know we just met. But it really is an honour to meet you. Would you be good enough to join me for a drink in the lounge?”

  Didi frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on right now. I have to be up early in the morning.”

  Stitch waved his hand. “Just a friendly drink. You drink scotch?”

  “Johnnie Walker. Blue Label.”

  Stitch raised his eyebrows. “You’ve go
t good taste.”

  Didi smiled. She leaned toward him and smoothed the collar on his shirt. “Expensive tastes.”

  Stitch looked directly into her green eyes. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”

  Didi cocked her head. She ran her long fingers through her hair. Her nails were bright red. “I’ll meet you here in 15 minutes.”

  Stitch took her free hand and lifted it to his lips. Didi smiled. She turned and walked around the main house. He watched her as she strode down the palm-lined path. She turned into one of the cottages near the beach. Number 21, Stitch mentally noted. He walked quickly to his own room. He pulled out the Blackberry as he walked. He hit Daffy’s speed dial. Daffy came on the line as Stitch pushed his door open.

  “Cripes, Stitch,” Daffy yelled on the phone. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Oh, you know. Just relaxing on the beach. Managed to fit a little swimming in. Really like the hammocks they have here.”

  “You better be kidding,” Daffy growled. “I’m up to my ass in alligators here. I’m in court tomorrow to argue for the injunction.”

  “I thought you already had it. On the basis of the taped evidence from Maxwell.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not that simple. I got the interim from Judge Shirley. But Venam has got all of its high-paid lawyers on the job. They’re going ape shit. They’ve managed to get a hearing to challenge it. And we drew Judge Cox, the old bastard. He’s never seen a development he didn’t like. He’s summoned me and Venam to court.”

  “Will what we have hold up?”

  “Not sure, partner. Guess we’ll see. But it would sure help if you could pull yourself away from the swim-up bar. If it’s not too much trouble. You know, get me something with a little more meat on it?”

  “Daffy, I don’t want to say too much. But what sort of confession would be what you need?”

  “Confession? Like to the murder? The bribe?”

  “Whole thing.”

  Daffy was quiet for a moment. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.” Stitch could hear Daf thinking on the other end. “Obviously, best would be live testimony in court.”

  “That’s what I’m aiming for. Short of that, how about a recording?”

  “Better than nothing, but not great. You always run the risk of it not being accepted. Especially in a court case.”

  “How about a video of the confession?”

  “Way better. They’re being accepted more and more. But not if they seem to be made under pressure.”

  “No pressure.”

  “You got a witness willing to spill it all on tape?”

  “Dunno. Guess we’ll see.” Stitch could imagine Daffy smiling at the other end. “OK, Daf. That’s what I wanted to know. Good luck with the injunction, eh?”

  “Thanks, partner. Hey, have they really got nice hammocks down there?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Johnnie Walker Blues

  Stitch sat in a corner of the broad porch that served as the hotel’s lounge. There were no windows to block the breezes from the mountains. Large shutters hinged at the top were propped open to shade the porch. Fans swished overhead. Stitch leaned back in a deep rattan chair. A bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue with two glasses sat on the table in front of him. A set of car keys was next to the bottle.

  The hostess opened the old wood door. Didi walked into the room.Didi had changed into a long white dress. The front plunged between her magnificent breasts showing impressive cleavage. The dress was cinched with a broad sash. A slit all the way from her ankles to her narrow waist revealed perfect legs as she walked. Heads turned as she made her way toward Stitch. Especially the men’s, Stitch thought.

  Stitch stood up as she approached. He pulled out a chair and they sat down. She leaned toward him and unbuttoned the top button on his dark blue silk shirt. “I like to see your hairy chest,” she joked. “You’re a very good looking man.”

  Stitch tried not to look down her front. But he did notice that a simple gold chain dangled invitingly. “Ah,” he said. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

  Didi sat back and smiled wryly. “Maybe I do,” she said softly. “But usually I don’t mean it.”

  Stitch poured a shot of Johnnie Walker into a glass. “Please,” Didi purred. “Make it a double.”

  Stitch looked up at her. “Yes, ma’am.” He filled the glass half way and slid it to Didi. He then poured himself a shot.

  “You want ice with this?” he asked.

  Didi screwed up her pretty face. “Put ice in Johnnie Walker Blue? You must think I’m a complete cretin. That’s like putting caviar on a peanut butter sandwich.”

  Stitch raised his whisky. They touched glasses and took a sip.

  Didi nodded at the car keys. “I didn’t know you had a car. I thought you were taxiing it.”

  “Basically, I am,” Stitch nodded. “But tomorrow I’m heading up to Nevis Peak.”

  Didi raised her chin toward the hills outside. “Is that the big mountain?”

  “Yeah. Over 3,000 feet high. I’m driving up some tough roads. Then they say it’s a hard slog by foot.” Stitch shrugged. “But I’m determined to make it to the top.”

  Didi smiled, her eyes half closed. “Then I’m sure you will,” she whispered.

  The evening slipped by quickly. Stitch had to keep reminding himself he was at work. He kept falling into those big green eyes. But he did make sure that he kept Didi’s glass full. He tried to drink one shot for two of hers.

  “So you’re in banking?” Stitch asked.

  Didi’s face clouded. “I’d really rather not talk about it.” She pulled a gold cigarette case out of her purse. She took out a cigarette and held it toward her mouth. “Got a light?”

  Stitch picked up the matchbook from the ashtray on the table. He lit a match as Didi raised the cigarette to her lips. She inhaled deeply.

  Stitch put the match out in the ashtray. “Do you only smoke when you get tense?”

  Stitch could feel Didi stiffen. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you at the coffee place this afternoon. You seemed upset. And you were smoking. I haven’t seen you smoke since.”

  Didi sat back in the cushions. “What would I have to be upset about?”

  Stitch filled her glass. “I don’t know.” He looked up at her. “Maybe being stiffed by Tommy Cecconi?”

  Didi’s eyes widened. The hand with the cigarette froze in mid-air. A quiet tension filled the space between them. “Who are you?” Didi asked.

  “My name is Stitch Robinson. I’m a private investigator.”

  Didi looked stunned. She swiftly ground her cigarette into the ashtray. She rose to leave. Stitch grabbed her by the wrist.

  “Sit down,” he said. His voice was low but steely.

  Didi slowly sank back into the chair. She yanked her arm out of Stitch’s grip. “You lied to me.”

  Stitch shook his head. “I never lied. I just didn’t tell you everything. Sort of like you.”

  Didi stared at him. Her green eyes seemed to be on fire.

  “But let me tell you a few other things I haven’t shared. I am working for Bob Maxwell’s widow.”

  Didi seemed to flinch. “You’re the guy who tracked us down in Michigan. Bob told me we’d been found. That he was going back. He didn’t give me the details.”

  Stitch shook his head in frustration. “Idiot. I told him not to tell you.” He glared at Didi. “So then you snuck away and called your friend Tommy Cecconi.”

  “Look!” Didi cried. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t get paid if he went back. I didn’t know they were going to kill him. I swear.”

  “Maybe you thought they’d organize a welcome home party for him?”

  Didi leaned forward. “You must believe me. I di
dn’t know they would kill him. I was as surprised as Bob when those thugs kicked the door down.”

  Stitch looked up into her face. Tears rose in her eyes.

  “I believe you.”

  Didi’s face relaxed a little. “Really?”

  “Really. But Mrs. Anderson, you are in one pile of trouble.”

  Didi took another slug from her glass.

  “You will almost certainly be charged with accessory to murder. You are involved in an international money laundering scheme. You bribed a city councillor. International flight to avoid prosecution. Did I miss anything?”

  Didi stared stonily ahead. “I didn’t kill him. It was just a business deal. Tommy set it up. I was to get a hundred thou when I got Maxwell out of the country. They were going to take it from there.”

  “Which they did,” Stitch commented.

  Didi looked back at him, stricken. “But they said they wouldn’t kill him. They were going to set him up in Mexico.”

  “With the money they put in his account?”

  Didi smiled wanly. She reached over and pinched his cheek. “For such a big bad detective, you aren’t all that bright.”

  Stitch cocked his head enquiringly.

  “There was never an account set up for Bob.”

  Stitch poured more whisky into Didi’s glass. “Ah. I think I’m beginning to get it. You see, Maxwell left a Nevis bank account number.”

  Didi sat up in surprise.

  “I figured it was his. But actually it was…”

  “Mine,” Didi finished.

  Stitch nodded. He took a sip from his glass. “I may not be all that bright. But I’m not as dumb as you.”

  Didi looked at him questioningly.

  “You seem to have thought they would actually leave money here for you to come down and scoop up.”

  Didi shook her head slowly. “I’m not a fool,” she said. “I know how they work. I figured they would string me along. Try to pay me as little as possible. But they didn’t expect me to show up on Nevis. After Maxwell was killed, I just wanted out. I thought I could get the money and run.”

  Stitch sipped his whisky. “So tell me. How did it go down?”

  Didi settled back in her chair. “Pretty simple, really. Venam was in trouble. They’d bought the property for $12 million. They were tapped out. Couldn’t get legit financing. So they approached Tommy. He and the president of Venam have a history. Don’t know that part.”