Sunshine State

by D P Lyle

  “Good man. Worked hard, for sure. Never had no trouble with him. Not in here anyway. I’ve never heard a bad word about him.” She looked out to where Tommy Lee’s boat sat idle in its slip. “Hard to believe.”

  “You have any thoughts on it?” I asked.

  “You mean like who could’ve done it?” She shook her head. “Not a clue.”

  “He didn’t have any issues with anyone?”

  “Not that I know.”

  I smiled. “Somehow, I suspect that if he did, you’d know.”

  “Probably would.” She picked up the towel and blotted at a ketchup stain on her gray shirt. “Truth is, he was a very nice young man. I mean, he had his issues with the police. After his sister’s murder. But, I guess that’s understandable. And that was years ago. Far as I know, that all blew over.”

  “That’s more or less what he told Pancake.”

  “Where is the big guy?”

  “He and Ray are going to have a sit-down with a guy named Roy Polk.”

  “Roy? Why?”

  “He was supposed to go out with Tommy Lee this morning. It was him that called the police.”

  “You don’t think he had anything to do with this?” Betty Lou asked.

  “Do you?”

  She hesitated a beat. “No. He and Tommy Lee were tight. Worked together for years.”

  “No issues?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Mind if I ask what this has to do with your documentary?”

  Uh-oh. Not much got by Betty Lou. I searched for an answer.

  “Tommy Lee is a collateral victim,” Nicole said. “His sister was one of Billy Wayne’s victims. We were planning to film him. So, anything that happens to him, related or not, is part of the tragic story.”

  Betty Lou nodded. “Makes sense.” She looked at me. “But to answer your question, Roy more or less depended on Tommy Lee for his livelihood. Don’t see how him doing anything like this would be in his best interest.”

  “That makes sense, too,” I said. “Maybe it was a burglary that went wrong. I know Tommy Lee ran his business from his home. Maybe he had money there.”

  “Could be. I know he didn’t care too much for banks. ’Least not the one his sister worked at.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “I heard he moved to another one. Maybe he kept a pile of cash at home.”

  Betty Lou shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me none. You probably wouldn’t believe how many folks ’round here do.”

  “Not smart.”

  “No. But they do it anyway.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ROY POLK LIVED about a mile north of town in an isolated area that was mostly scrub brush and swamp. Only one way in and out. Ray held onto the roof handle as Pancake guided his truck along the uneven gravel road, the truck gyrating, pebbles pinging against the undercarriage. Polk’s home proved to be a weather-dulled and dented Airstream, resting on concrete blocks.

  Polk was sitting in a plastic lawn chair near the trailer’s entrance, a cigarette in one hand, a long-necked beer in the other. He stood when Ray and Pancake stepped from the truck.

  Polk was lanky, thin, and wore dark green cargo shorts and a black tee shirt with a faded Jack Daniels logo, both a couple of sizes too large and hanging from his bony shoulders and hips. His stringy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Roy Polk?” Ray said, walking toward him.

  “Who wants to know?”

  He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his sandal. Ray noticed there were maybe two dozen other flattened butts. Obviously, Polk’s preferred place to relax. Or today, ponder Tommy Lee’s murder. An orange plastic pail beside the chair held several empty beer bottles. PBR being Polk’s choice.

  “I’m Ray Longly. This is Pancake.”

  “You the ones making that film Tommy Lee told me about?”

  “We are.”

  Polk pulled a partially crushed box of Marlboros from his pants pocket and shook one up. “What brings you out here?”

  “Wanted to talk with you about Tommy Lee.”

  “Already talked with the police.” He lipped the cigarette from the pack, before returning it to his pocket.

  “We know. But they’re looking into his murder. We’re more interested in Tommy Lee.”

  Polk’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “He tell you what the film we’re doing is about?”

  “Some.” A Zippo appeared. He thumbed up a flame, lit the cigarette, and clacked it closed.

  “We’re interested in the aftermath of Billy Wayne Baker’s killings. How it affected the family and friends of the victims. And since his sister was one of those victims, we had him set to be part of the show.”

  Polk sighed. “Yeah, he said he was going to be on film.”

  “He was. But, now, things have obviously changed.”

  Polk spun the Zippo with his fingers a couple of times, then slid it into his pants pocket. “Sure have.”

  “I understand you found him?” Ray asked.

  “Yep. We had an early charter this morning. He didn’t show. Ain’t like him. I called and called. Got no answer. Went over to see if he was alright. He didn’t answer my knocks. I knew something was off so I called Chief Morgan.”

  “Did you see him? Tommy Lee?” Pancake asked.

  “Sure did. Chief Morgan was in there a while so I went in. Wish I never had.” His shoulders dropped and he scuffed the ground with one sandal. “His head was all blowed off.” He looked up. “I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

  “How long did you know him?” Ray asked.

  “Forever. Since we were kids. Worked with him since he started the business.”

  “I hear business was good.”

  “Sure was. He got that new boat a couple of years ago and things moved up after that.”

  “An upgrade?” Pancake asked. “The boat?”

  He nodded. “Could take out parties of six, sometimes more. Better charters, if you know what I mean. Folks from Orlando and Tampa and places like that expect bigger and newer. And they’re willing to pay for it.”

  “So, more money?” Ray said.

  “For sure. He made more, I made more. Things were looking good.” He took a long drag from the Marlboro, exhaling the smoke upward. “Not sure what I’m going to do now.”

  “I know Tommy Lee ran his business from his home. Did he keep money there?”

  “Some. Most was banked. But I guess he had a couple of grand on hand at any given time.” He stuck the cigarette in his mouth. It bobbed as he spoke. “You ask me, that just might be what got him killed.”

  “What makes you think that?” Ray asked.

  “Everything I saw there. At his place. Not just Tommy Lee and all that blood.” He shook his head. “But to me, the place looked messed up. Not massively, like turned-over furniture and the like. But drawers, cabinets, closets were open. Stuff pulled out. Even looked like someone had dug beneath the sofa cushions.”

  “Who knew he kept money there?”

  “Far as I know, only me and Tommy Lee. He never talked much about his business.” He finished the cigarette and crushed it as he had the other one. “I guess some of the others that helped him from time to time could’ve known.” He sighed. “But I doubt it. Tommy Lee was never very close with any of them.”

  “How many are we talking about?” Rays asked. “Other crew members?”

  “Lately? Only two. But, if he didn’t go out alone, which he did a lot, I’d say I went out with him about ninety percent of the other times. He only used the other guys if he needed an extra hand and I was away or sick or something like that.”

  “Besides money, did he keep anything else valuable there?” Ray asked.

  “Not that I know.”

  “Do you know anyone who would have done this?” Pancake asked.

  He shook his head emphatically. “No. Tommy Lee was good people. Never had no trouble with anyone.”

  “Except the police, I hear,” Ray
said.

  “That was long ago. Right after Noleen was killed.” Another sigh. “I sure didn’t blame him. Fact of the matter is I agreed with him. I thought the police were dragging their feet.” He propped his hands on his hips. “’Course after Frank Clark’s wife was murdered, things sort of changed. He figured if Clark couldn’t protect his own wife, he could be forgiven for any of his failures. At least to a point.”

  “So you have no idea who could be responsible for Tommy Lee’s murder?”

  “I’ve been sitting here drinking and smoking and asking myself that same question ever since I got back here.” He scratched the back of one hand. “It just don’t make no sense.”

  “Can I ask you an odd question?” Ray said.

  “Don’t see no reason why not.”

  “What kind of phone did Tommy Lee use?”

  He smiled. Sort of. “An iPhone. Latest model. Man, he loved that thing.”

  “Ever see him with an old flip-type one?”

  He tossed Ray a quizzical look. “Not in ten years. Maybe more. No one has those anymore.”

  Ray nodded. “Like I said, an odd question.”

  “Tommy Lee liked his gadgets. His phone. The boat’s radar.” Now he did smile. “He really loved the fish finder. Thought that was about the coolest thing ever.”

  Ray heard the sound of car tires crunching gravel and turned toward the road. A black sedan pulled in next to Pancake’s truck. Clark and Munson stepped out.

  “You guys get around,” Clark said.

  “We were just leaving,” Ray said.

  “Mind if I ask why you’re here?”

  “They was talking to me about Tommy Lee,” Polk said.

  “The documentary,” Ray added. “Trying to get a better handle on Tommy Lee.” He turned to Polk. “Thanks for your time. You’ve helped us better understand Tommy Lee.”

  “Glad to help.”

  Ray nodded to Clark and Munson and then he and Pancake headed toward the truck. When they got there, Ray saw that Clark had followed them. He turned to face him.

  “You stepping on my investigation?” Clark said.

  “Wouldn’t do that.”

  Clark stared at him.

  “Look,” Ray said. “You have a job to do. I respect that. So do we. We aren’t really interested in your case. And definitely not trying to interfere. But Tommy Lee is a part of our story. The more we know about him, the better we can make the final product.”

  “You sure that’s all it is?” Clark asked.

  “What else could it be?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I just did.”

  Clark gave a quick nod. “Guess I’ll have to take you at your word. For now.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  IT WAS WELL past Pancake’s feeding time when he and Ray joined Nicole and me on the deck at Woody’s. Nicole was into her second Bloody Mary. I, wisely, stopped at one. We had had a long talk with Betty Lou before she had to get back to work.

  “About time to clear out the lunch crowd and prep for the happy hour chaos,” she had said. “Got a feeling it’ll start early and run late today. What with Tommy Lee’s murder on everyone’s mind. Stress and alcohol go together.” She looked at me. “Maybe I can get Pancake to hang around. To keep order.” She laughed.

  “He can do that, all right,” I said. “When he’s not creating the chaos. But if you feed him, he’ll never leave.”

  “Sort of like a stray cat,” Nicole said.

  That got an even deeper laugh from Betty Lou.

  “Thanks for chatting with us,” Nicole said

  “Chattin’s my favorite pastime,” Betty Lou said. Then she was gone.

  Betty Lou returned when she saw Ray and Pancake arrive. “’Bout time you showed up.” She nodded toward Nicole and me. “Been babysitting these two all day.”

  “I’ve had that duty with Jake his whole life,” Ray said.

  “Me, too,” Pancake added.

  “You guys are funny,” I said, then to Pancake, “I think Betty Lou has a job offer for you.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Sort of a bouncer,” Betty Lou said. “I’m thinking with the Tommy Lee situation; this evening could be a mite rowdy.”

  “What’s the pay?” Pancake asked.

  “Everything on the menu.”

  “Sure beats what Ray pays.” His eyebrows gave a bounce. “I’m in. I’ll start with page one and work my way through.”

  Betty Lou laughed. It crossed my mind that she thought he was kidding. I knew better.

  She took our order, only Pancake ordering food, and was off again.

  We shared notes. I told of our talk with Angus, and how we left him drinking his way through the day over at McGee’s. Ray and Pancake covered their visit to Roy Polk, including Clark and Munson showing up.

  Then, Pancake, having devoured calamari, tacos, French fries, and key lime pie, summed everything up.

  “What we have here is a murder-swap conspiracy. Don’t see it any other way. Clark couldn’t have killed his wife, or Tommy Lee his sister. But Tommy Lee was available the night Sara Clark was murdered, and Clark the night Noleen Kovac was killed. According to Munson, Clark had the duty the night Noleen was murdered. Means all the other cops were home, tucked in. He’d have the run of the town. And the next morning, he’s the one that answered Tommy Lee’s call.” He looked at Nicole. “Just like you predicted.”

  She raised her glass to him and nodded.

  Pancake continued. “If you look at everything we have, all the facts we know to be true, it comes down to that.”

  “So, in the end, Billy Wayne was telling the truth?” I said.

  “I think we can safely say that that’s the case,” Pancake said. “Billy Wayne moved around. Never hit the same place twice. Which is actually pretty smart.” He nodded to me. “And from what Jake here said about his second visit up to Raiford, Billy Wayne more or less confirmed that this is where the problem was. Where murders that weren’t his took place.”

  “That was my impression,” I said.

  “So, old Billy Wayne comes in here to this nice little town, kills Loretta Swift, and goes on his way. Then, Frank Clark gets to thinking. Maybe he can use this to knock off his cheating wife.”

  “But we don’t know that he knew she was cheating,” Nicole said.

  Pancake shrugged. “Couples know a lot they don’t let on. Clark’s a cop. Means he’s suspicious by nature. Can dig up facts, do surveillance, all kinds of stuff. So, he could’ve known even if no one knew he was aware of Sara’s infidelity. He lets it ride. Lets it fester. Until he sees a chance to fix it.” He shrugged. “Maybe things were comfortable in the Clarks’ home. Other than her stepping out. Maybe he thought why rock the boat until you can completely capsize it?”

  “Makes sense,” she said.

  “So, he has this all balled up inside him. Until an opportunity presents itself. If his wife is killed and the evidence is planted to drop it in Billy Wayne’s lap, that might solve his problem. But, then, thinking like a cop, it might just look too convenient.”

  “You mean, like he had access to the evidence?” I said. “And he’d be the one doing the investigation?”

  “Exactly. He might’ve pulled it off. Particularly here, where he’s a big dog. But the possibility of it all blowing up was real.” Pancake looked out toward the Gulf. “And don’t forget, this is the Billy Wayne Baker case. The FBI was involved.”

  “Which could really get tricky,” Nicole said.

  “Enter Tommy Lee Kovac,” Pancake continued. “He and Clark go back. Maybe Clark knew Tommy Lee was having money issues with his sister. Maybe they sat down and hatched a plan. A murder exchange. Each creates an alibi, each does the deed for the other, and Clark is free and clear. No one would question his wife’s murder if there was another one. And if his alibi was ironclad. Like working an accident on the bridge. With his partner. Not to mention a newspaper reporter documenting it. Toss in Billy Wayne’s DNA at bo
th scenes and the conspiracy is perfect.”

  “Three murders would stir the mud,” Ray said. “Make everything all murky. So much so that Clark wouldn’t stand out as a suspect.”

  Everyone sat quietly for a few minutes, absorbing everything.

  “And now, with Billy Wayne bringing us in, and you guys finding the phone, everything is suddenly very shaky,” I said.

  “And that makes folks with something to hide nervous,” Ray said.

  “Do you think Clark killed Tommy Lee?” I asked.

  “I do,” Ray said. “The phone call spooked him. Maybe thinking Tommy Lee was getting all sideways. I mean, why would he call and say nothing? Answer Clark’s return call and again say nothing. Was Tommy Lee becoming a liability? Or worse, someone else had the phone. That would kick his anxiety into the stratosphere. Either way, Clark saw everything falling apart. The conspiracy unraveling. So, he needed to find the phone and eliminate the only person who could put him in the middle of this.”

  “Which is the way all conspiracies end,” Pancake said.

  “So, we need to find the other phone in Clark’s possession to prove all this?” Nicole asked.

  “Which won’t be easy,” Ray said.

  “I have a question,” I said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Could the other half of the conspiracy, the guy who answered the phone, be the guy Sara was seeing and not Frank Clark?”

  Ray shook his head. “Not likely. Clark’s the one who had access to the DNA evidence. And the guy at the scenes where he could plant it. The way I see it, he’s ground zero in this entire opera.”

  That made sense.

  “Speak of the devil,” Pancake said. He nodded toward the entrance.

  I looked that way. Clark and Munson. They saw us and headed our way.

  “How’d your talk with Polk go?” Ray asked.

  “Fine,” Clark said. He offered nothing else. Just stood there. The late afternoon sun highlighted the scowls on each of their faces.

  “What can we do for you?” Ray asked.

  “Maybe do your job,” Clark said. “Work on your documentary but stay out of our business.”

  “Like I said before, that’s not our intention.”