Wild Crown

by Tripp Ellis

  There were shrieks and gasps from patients as we stormed in.

  "County Sheriff!" Daniels shouted. "We have a warrant for the arrest of Anthony Tornak!"

  The mortified receptionist stood up behind the desk, her eyes wide. "Who?”

  “Dr. Fantazio!” Daniels shouted.

  The receptionist stammered, “He's in surgery right now!"

  "Where?" Daniels asked.

  "I'll show you." She scurried around the counter and led us down a corridor to the surgery suite. "You can't go in there! It's a sterile environment."

  "Yeah, well according to some of the complaints, things around here aren't very sterile," JD muttered.

  We had no choice but to wait for Tornak to finish the procedure. Disrupting the operation could have caused more harm than good.

  George Gordon, the clinic owner, had learned of the commotion and approached us outside of the operating room. "This is my clinic. What's going on?"

  His advance drew the aim of two tactical officers. The angry barrels of their assault rifles pointed at the man.

  He froze in his tracks.

  "Did you know you have a doctor working on staff that isn't licensed to practice medicine in the State of Florida?" Daniels barked.

  "What?" George said in disbelief. "You can't be serious?"

  "Serious as a heart attack," Daniels said. "You need to come down to the station for questioning."

  The tactical officers detained George, slapping cuffs on his wrists.

  We waited for Anthony to finish the procedure, while other officers confiscated evidence. They found several vials of Vexatropanil on the premises.

  Anthony's eyes widened when he stepped out of the OR, greeted by the barrels of assault weapons.

  JD slammed him against the wall, twisted his arms behind his back and slapped the metal cuffs on his wrists.

  "What are you doing?" Anthony asked.

  "You're under arrest for practicing medicine without a license," Daniels growled.

  "I have a license. Everything is up to date. Check with the Department of Health."

  "Trust me, we have, Mr. Tornak," I said.

  His face drooped, he knew the gig was up.

  We hustled the two scumbags out of the facility, dragging them through the lobby to the confusion and horror of the patients. There were audible gasps and curious murmurs.

  "What about all the other patients that are on the operating schedule?" a nurse asked.

  "They aren’t on the schedule anymore,” Daniels said. “The clinic is shut down!”

  The Department of Health took over from there.

  We stuffed Anthony and George into the back of a patrol car and took them down to the station.

  I laid into the scumbag in the interrogation room. "You're in deep shit, buddy. You’re looking at a third-degree felony. Minimum. And that accidental death… I'm sure that will be revisited. That could turn into a capital case. I think you’re looking at a minimum of 30 years, if not life. That's not including the charges for the murder of Skylar Van Doorn."

  Anthony glared at me. "What are you talking about?"

  He sat at a table in the interrogation room with his hands still cuffed, wearing bloody scrubs from the OR.

  "I didn't kill Skylar Van Doorn," he protested.

  "You've got a hell of a motive. Her malpractice suit could have exposed your fraudulent practice. You paid the others off, but she wouldn't settle," I said.

  "I'm not saying anything else without a lawyer."

  I glared at him.

  He was at least smart enough to shut the hell up, but I felt relatively confident he would spend a long time in prison, even if we couldn't pin Skylar's murder on him.

  We left the interrogation room and strolled down the hall to another room that contained George Gordon. The minute we walked in, he declared, "You can't keep me here. I've done nothing wrong."

  "You hired a doctor to work in your clinic that doesn't have a license," I snarked.

  "He had all the required paperwork. I did a background check. He looked clean."

  "Sure he did," I grumbled.

  "I don't have to talk to you people."

  "You made a lot of money with Dr. Fantastic, didn't you?"

  "The business is profitable, yes. Like I said, I did everything I was supposed to. This is terrible, and it's going to negatively affect my business. You think I want this kind of bad publicity?"

  "I suppose not. You got sued by the one girl who had enough money not to settle. Probably made things a lot easier when she was dead," I said, throwing it out there casually.

  His eyes narrowed at me. "No. No way. You're not going to try to pin that shit on me."

  "You certainly had a motive to kill Skylar," I said, grasping at straws.

  "You people are crazy. This conversation is over. I know how you guys operate. You take whatever I say and twist it around to fit your narrative. You two can get fucked!"

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled out the device and looked at the screen. It was Scarlett. I took the call. "I'm kind of busy right now, what's going on?"

  "This is total bullshit," she cried.

  24

  "I got fired!" Scarlett grumbled.

  I pushed into the hallway, and JD followed.

  "What do you mean you got fired?" I asked.

  JD listened with curiosity.

  "I wouldn't sleep with the director, so he fired me."

  "But you've already done the—" I stopped myself before I said nude scene.

  "I know," Scarlett said. "I can't believe it."

  "Did you talk to Joel about this?"

  "He said it's in my contract. They can fire me for any reason at any time. They still have to pay me, but this wasn't about the money. I needed the exposure. No pun intended."

  "I'm sorry about that. There will be other parts."

  She sighed, and her voice deflated. "I know. I just had high hopes for this one."

  "Jack's right here. You want to talk to him?"

  "No," she said. "Not right now."

  I handed the phone to Jack.

  "Hey, what's going on?" JD asked.

  I saw Brenda in the hallway, and I left Jack to console Scarlett.

  "I've been meaning to call you," Brenda said. "Got a match on the DNA from the cigarette butt in the Samantha Baxter case."

  "Really?" I asked, my brow lifted with surprise.

  "Yup. Darrell Casey. I ran it through CODIS."

  "So, he's got a criminal record?"

  Brenda nodded. "He's up in Raiford, doing life. Guess what for?"

  "Rape and murder?"

  "We have a winner. Or a loser, depending on how you want to look at it. Same MO. Raped and murdered a girl in Miami and left her naked body on the beach."

  "How come this wasn't investigated before?" I asked, incredulous.

  Brenda shrugged. "The technology didn't exist at the time. Different County. Communication between counties wasn't so great back then. Happened three months after Samantha Baxter's death."

  "So, this is our guy," I said with confidence.

  "Could be. Do you think he'll talk to you?"

  "We'll find out. It's not like he's getting out of prison any time soon. Maybe I can get him to confess? What's one more murder to add to his rap sheet?"

  Brenda smiled. "I have faith in you."

  I thanked her for the hard work.

  Jack finished the call with Scarlett. "Can you believe that shit?"

  "It's Hollywood. What do you expect?"

  "That just chaps my ass," JD said. "I'm tempted to hop on a plane and beat that director’s ass."

  "That didn't work out too well last time I did that."

  Jack grumbled for a few more moments. I told him about the break in the Samantha Baxter case, which lifted his spirits.

  It didn't take long for George Gordon's high-priced attorney to show up and demand his release. The scumbag flashed an obnoxious smile at us as he strolled out of the station.
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  My face tensed, and I scowled at him. It made me sick that a dirt-bag like that was back on the street and legally able to take advantage of unsuspecting patients.

  We left and headed down to Oyster Avenue to grab a bite to eat.

  Breakwater was a nautical themed bar/restaurant with life preservers on the wooden plank walls. Paintings of old schooners hung in antique frames. They served dishes like lobster bisque, fried shrimp, calamari, softshell crab, and an array of grilled fish.

  I ordered the softshell crab, and JD kept it healthy with an order of grilled salmon. We sat in a booth that had a window which overlooked the avenue. A cute brunette served us.

  I watched pedestrians stroll up and down the block as we ate, contemplating the day's events. "I was thinking tomorrow we could cruise up to Raiford and talk to Darrell."

  "Sounds like a plan. I think we've got the Van Doorn thing wrapped up."

  I shrugged. "It's all circumstantial. We still can't connect Tornak or George to Skylar. We need to find her dealer."

  Jack looked at his watch. "Is it happy hour yet?"

  "It's a little early."

  "Nonsense. It's never too early." He smiled. "Let's go over to Tide Pool and see if Harper is working?"

  "You still haven't given up on that?"

  His face twisted. "I'm telling you, she's got a thing for me. She's just taking her time to express it."

  Jack had a long-standing crush on the bartender. He tipped her well, and she was always nice to him, but nothing had ever manifested between the two.

  I paid the tab, and we strolled down the block. Tide Pool was a trendy spot, usually full of beautiful people. There were swimming pools inside and outside.

  We moseyed through the bar to the patio and took a seat at the Tiki hut where Harper slung drinks. The crowd was pretty thin this time of day, but there were still a lot of sights to be seen. Gorgeous girls in microscopic bikinis pranced around. Tanned skin glistened with droplets of water and oil. It was easy to see why it was one of Jack's favorite bars.

  Harper greeted us with a smile. "What will it be?"

  "A smile from you is all I need," JD said.

  Harper blushed. "Aw, you're so sweet."

  "Two whiskeys," Jack said.

  Harper grabbed a bottle from the well, spun it in her palm and poured the amber liquid, running the nozzle between two glasses. Like a gunslinger, she shoved the bottle back into the well and slid drinks across the counter. She smiled. "First one is on the house."

  We thanked her and toasted, "To Harper!"

  We clinked glasses, and the beautiful bartender smiled.

  I took a sip of whiskey, then set it on the counter. "Do you know of any really good bartenders that are looking for a job?"

  It was a long shot, but I thought I'd throw it out there.

  "Where at?" Harper asked.

  "Diver Down."

  "That's a cool place. Kind of chill. How are tips?"

  "It's mostly regulars, but they tip well."

  She thought about it for a moment. "Are you the owner?"

  "No. My sister is. I'm managing the place while she's gone and we're a little short-staffed."

  "I'm sure I can find somebody to help you out," Harper said. "They keep me pretty busy here, and tips are really good, otherwise I'd offer to pick up a shift here and there."

  "That's really kind of you," I said.

  "Give me your number, and I'll give you a shout if anything turns up," Harper suggested.

  "That would be great."

  We exchanged numbers, and Jack tried to hide his jealous scowl.

  My eyes glanced around the outdoor pool, soaking in the view. I couldn't believe who I saw lounging in the water on a floating chair.

  25

  The floating blue lounge chair had a cupholder on the armrest that contained a red, plastic drink cup. Vanessa Dumont reclined, soaking up the rays of the afternoon sun. Her body shimmered.

  Her blonde friend lounged next to her.

  Vanessa unscrewed the lid of a small brown vial. She dipped the nail of her pinky finger inside and scooped out a white powder, then lifted her delicate finger to her nose and snorted.

  Vanessa swallowed, then screwed on the lid and handed it to her blonde friend.

  So much for the anti-drug sentiment she had espoused earlier.

  I couldn't believe they were doing it out in the open, in public, in broad daylight. Vanessa Dumont clearly thought she was above the law.

  I set my drink down and strolled around the pool. I stood at the edge, casting a shadow over the girls.

  Vanessa's face twisted. "You're blocking my light!"

  I flashed my badge. "Remember me?"

  Both of the girls' jaws dropped, and the blonde unscrewed the lid to the vial of cocaine and dropped it into the pool.

  "Out of the pool. Now!" I growled. "We need to talk."

  The two nervous girls paddled their way to the edge of the pool and climbed out, their tight bodies dripping with water.

  "Can you hand me a towel?" Vanessa asked in a snotty tone.

  "A fresh towel is the least of your worries right about now."

  "You do know who my father is, don't you?"

  "And he's going to be really disappointed when he needs to bail your ass out of jail for possession of cocaine."

  Vanessa scowled at me. "What are you talking about? I don't see any cocaine."

  She exchanged a glance with her friend, Kassidy, who shrugged innocently.

  "Nobody's got any cocaine here." Kassidy said.

  "Cut the shit!" I growled. "I want answers, and I want them now!"

  "Or what?" Vanessa snapped. "What are you going to do?"

  "Your best friend died from snorting cocaine that was laced with a toxic substance. And here you are, snorting coke in broad daylight?"

  "I didn't snort anything," she said.

  "How do you know the drugs you just took weren’t tainted as well?"

  "Because, nobody wants to kill me. I'm fabulous."

  "Where did you get the drugs?" I asked.

  "What drugs?" she said, maintaining her innocence.

  My jaw tightened. "Alright. Turn around. Put your hands behind your head. You're under arrest."

  Her face twisted. "For what? You can't arrest me?"

  "How about I take you down to the station right now and give you a drug test?"

  "You can't do that? Can you?"

  "Do you want to find out?"

  Vanessa hesitated for a moment, and her nervous eyes flicked to Kassidy. Her friend didn't have any answers, and neither one of them knew what was within the bounds of the law.

  "Start talking," I said. "If I like what I hear, I'll forget this happened."

  Vanessa exchanged a glance with Kassidy again.

  The blonde shrugged, hesitantly.

  Vanessa's gaze fell back to me. She huffed in defeat. "What do you want to know?"

  "Who sold you the cocaine?" I asked.

  Vanessa squirmed. "I'm going to get into a lot of trouble if I tell you that."

  "Newsflash. You already are in a lot of trouble."

  Her face tensed and she shifted again. "I'm not admitting to the possession of anything, okay? But, let's just say, hypothetically, if I did have an illegal substance, I wouldn't have purchased it from Skylar's dealer. Nobody will buy from him anymore. Nobody who's anybody."

  "Who is Skylar's dealer?"

  "I don't know his real name, but he goes by Pure."

  I arched a curious eyebrow at the brunette.

  "He used to get the best shit," Vanessa said, her voice full of longing. "Probably still does. Everyone started calling him Pure, and it stuck. But after what happened to Skylar, nobody will go near his product."

  "Sounds like he made a bad business decision," I said. "Where can I find Pure?"

  "He's at Bumper a lot," Vanessa said. "That's where I always see him."

  Bumper was a loud EDM bar with pumping music and throngs of pretty people. />
  "I've got his number, if you want it? But, he probably won't return a call from a number he's not familiar with."

  "That's why you are going to text him and tell him to meet you."

  Her eyes widened. "No. No way! Snitches get stitches. If he finds out I set him up, he'll probably kill me."

  "He won't find out," I assured.

  A distraught look twisted on her face. She exchanged a wary glance with her blonde friend. Kassidy didn't look too keen on the idea either.

  "Text him right now and arrange a buy," I commanded.

  "He's going to think something is up. I haven't bought from him since Skylar died."

  "Give me your phone," I demanded.

  "No!" Vanessa's face twisted.

  I held out the palm of my hand. "Give it!"

  She huffed, and her upper lip curled with disgust, then she finally handed over the device.

  "What's your passcode?"

  Her brow knitted together. "I'm not telling you!"

  I turned the display to face her. It was a newer phone with facial recognition, and the phone unlocked once it scanned her face.

  I launched her text messaging app and scrolled through the recent contacts. "I'm assuming he's listed under Pure?"

  Vanessa huffed. "Yes."

  I read the last few messages she had exchanged with the drug dealer to get a sense of their banter and Vanessa's texting style. The messages were dated just before Skylar's death.

  I composed a new message: [Is your shit safe? Because the shit everybody else is selling is mostly baby laxative.]

  I sent the text and waited for a response.

  26

  It didn't take long for Pure to respond. He wasn't going to leave money on the table.

  [My shit is totally safe. I don't know where everyone is getting this nonsense from.]

  I responded: [Maybe because Skylar's dead?]

  [She didn't die from my shit. I don't cut my product. It's as pure as you can get.]

  [Promise?]

  [Money-back guarantee.]

  [Won't do me a lot of good if I'm dead.]

  [Do you want my services or not?]

  [You need me. I know nobody is buying from you anymore. That has to suck. Give me something good, and I'll spread the word.]