Luca Mystery Series Box Set

by Dan Petrosini

  “You said you had video?”

  He picked up a disk that was sitting in the center of his desk and waved it. “Every one of our stores is outfitted to document sellers and the merchandise they have. It eliminates a lot of headaches when and if they want to buy back what they brought in.”

  “I’d like to see that footage before I seize it.”

  He popped the disk in and fast-forwarded to a time stamp of 6:50 p.m. The quality of the video was much better than I expected. A tall man, who looked Hispanic, walked up to the counter and spoke with a woman salesperson.

  I said, “Freeze that. Who is the lady?”

  “Sally Kerchow.”

  “Is she here today?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, she’s off today.”

  “I’d like her contact details. She may have to testify. Let it roll.”

  The man in the video pulled a small pouch from his front pocket and laid it on the counter. He used his left hand. Sally opened the pouch and took out a cocktail ring. She held the ring between her thumb and forefinger and examined it. She said something to the man and pulled out a loupe, put it to her eye and brought the ring up to it. After inspecting the ring, she put it back in the pouch. They had a brief discussion. The man pocketed the pouch and departed.

  “What did she say to him?”

  “Sally knows her stuff. She used to work in the jewelry department at Saks. She recognized the ring right away. It wasn’t your normal cocktail ring. The stones were out-sized, and the setting was definitely custom. She told him they had too much inventory at the time and to come back next month.”

  “Did she or anyone recognize who he was? Was he here before?”

  “Though we have a lot of repeat customers, no one knew him.”

  “You showed this to everyone who works here?”

  “Of course.”

  “If we can’t ID this guy, I might be asking you to have your other stores take a look at this video.”

  ***

  It took our video guys less than half an hour to produce five clear photos of the man looking to pawn what was confirmed as Marilyn’s stolen ring. I held the photos like a hand of cards. No one down in robbery could place the face, which puzzled me. No way this was a first dance for him. I get the isolation part if you were committing a robbery for the first time, but on an island? And even though the Boggs had zero security on Keewaydin, unless you knew that, you’d have to assume a high-end home like theirs would have the best.

  So, what was it? Was it a murder by hire? Paid for in jewelry? Or an inside job of some kind? Either way, we had to move carefully. We couldn’t risk letting anyone know we had a line on the thief and possible murderer.

  As soon as Vargas got back, I’d send her out to Keewaydin since she had developed a bit of a rapport with the housekeeper. With any luck, the maid would identify the man who tried to fence the cocktail ring. If she couldn’t, we’d have to broaden the search by publishing pictures, sacrificing an element of surprise.

  Chapter 30

  Luca

  Raul Sanchez was thirty-seven years old and lived a couple of miles from the casino in Immokalee. He’d come to the States from Mexico about six years ago and had a legitimate green card. Sanchez, whose driver’s license said he was six feet, didn’t have a record in the States and had worked for the Boggs for just under two years. According to Shell, the housekeeper, he was recommended by the landscaping contractor when the pool was renovated.

  Standing outside interrogation room three, I found myself wishing we had more intelligence on Sanchez. It’d been two days since we asked the Mexican Federal Police for anything on him, but they still hadn’t responded. All we had was him trying to fence a cocktail ring. Maybe I should have waited or asked the State Department to make inquiries.

  It would be nice to have Vargas help interview Sanchez. I sent her a text, but she didn’t reply. She was probably still stuck in court.

  I found myself questioning my instincts again, something I never did before I got hit with cancer. Self-doubt, both physical and mental, had seeped into my core. It felt like I’d made a mistake again, but now I didn’t have much of a choice; Sanchez was stewing behind the door.

  Checking again, there still wasn’t a message from Vargas. I grabbed the knob and opened the door. Sanchez was sitting like a schoolboy at the steel table. He swung his head toward me, revealing a crude tattoo on his neck. The rendering of a snake screamed jailhouse and bolstered me. Maybe I wasn’t losing it after all.

  “I’m Detective Luca. I’m heading the investigation into the Marilyn Boggs murder.” I sat across from him and centered my folder.

  “It’s a shame what happened to her. She was a nice lady.”

  He had less of an accent than the lady at the pawn shop had said. “How long have you been working on Keewaydin?”

  “About two years. I got the job when I was working with Gonzalvo Landscaping. We was doing the pool for them.”

  “What are your duties there?”

  “Well, to be honest, just about anything, you know, that needs to be done: taking care of the landscaping and beach areas, keeping up with things like painting and minor repairs. There’s always stuff that needs to be done.”

  “With the size of that place, just changing the light bulbs would keep someone busy.”

  “Those are some high ceilings. I need to take a twelve-footer to reach the high hats.”

  “How many maintenance people are there?”

  “There’s me, Mr. Pena, he’s the manager, Pedro, and Emilio.”

  “So, four full-timers?”

  “Yeah, we get it all done. But sometimes we gotta bring in help when it’s a big job, like when we upgraded the dock.”

  “Has there been a need recently to bring any outside help in?”

  “Last time, I think was for the roof on the main house. A couple of panels were, like, rusting. They were defective or something.”

  “When was that?”

  “Uh, maybe five, six months ago.”

  “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Mrs. Boggs?”

  He shook his head. “No, she was nice lady.”

  “That’s what they tell us. She wore a lot of jewelry, I hear.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he shrugged.

  “Did you ever work inside the main house?”

  He shook his head. “No, I worked mostly on the landscaping.”

  “Didn’t you say you used a big ladder to change the light bulbs?”

  His shoulders sagged. “Uh, that was long time ago. Not recently.”

  “I see. Shell, the housekeeper, she said you were clearing the shower drains in the master bedroom a week before Mrs. Boggs was murdered.”

  “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “I didn’t say you did. Were you in the master bathroom recently?”

  “I forgot. Mr. Pena told me to clear the drains, that Mrs. Boggs was complaining it wasn’t going down fast.”

  “Where else were you in the master suite?”

  Sanchez’s voice squeaked. “No place else.”

  “Were you in Mrs. Boggs’ closet?”

  “No, no. I wasn’t.”

  I opened my folder and slid a picture to Sanchez. “What were you doing at Capital Pawn?”

  He picked it up with his left hand. “Oh, yeah, my sister, she found a ring and wanted to sell it.”

  “And where did she find this ring?”

  “I think she said on the bus.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I don’t really remember.”

  “The ring you tried to fence belonged to Mrs. Boggs.”

  “That’s crazy, man. How can that be?”

  “How? Simple, you stole it after you killed her.”

  “Hey, man, don’t try to pin the murder on me.”

  “You took the ring but didn’t kill her?”

  “No, I didn’t do it.”

  “Come on, Raul. It’s a lot easier if y
ou tell the truth about all this. We got you. We have you on camera.”

  “Okay, okay, I took the ring.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Where did you take the ring from?”

  “Her closet.”

  “Is that where the necklace and other rings were?”

  Sanchez’s shoulder sagged.

  “We know about the other jewelry, Raul. Were the other rings and necklace in the closet?”

  He nodded.

  “Where in the closet were they?”

  “They were lying on top of a shelf. There was a whole mess of jewelry there. I didn’t think she’d miss them.”

  “Did Mrs. Boggs catch you stealing them?”

  “No.”

  “So, you killed her before robbing her jewelry?”

  “I didn’t touch her. I would never do something like that.”

  “You know what I think, Raul? I think you saw the jewelry when you were cleaning the drains. Then you thought it would be easy and you came back to steal a few pieces, but Mrs. Boggs confronted you and you panicked.”

  “No, no, that’s not true and you know it.”

  “What I know is you’re gonna be spending some time in jail until we figure all this out.”

  ***

  The traffic on Bonita Beach Road was heavy and I was late again. About a hundred yards from Livingston Road, a text chimed its arrival. I was dying to see who it was from, but I didn’t want to die in an accident either. I made a right and made my way to the Vasari turning lane where I took a peek; it was from Kayla.

  I crossed over into Vasari’s entrance and pulled over. It was encouraging to see the text was longer to read than the preview window allowed.

  Taking a breath, I read it. Then read it again. Kayla apologized for not responding, saying she had been busy working and taking care of her mother. Then she said she hoped I was feeling well and to take care of myself. What did that mean?

  Chapter 31

  Luca

  On the way to our office after lunch, we were intercepted by a uniformed officer who said the sheriff wanted to see us. The new sheriff was becoming a sprained ankle. Thank goodness, he was only a placeholder. We took the stairs to the second floor and were quickly waved in to see the boss.

  Frank Morgan looked up at Vargas and me but went back to thumbing through a file. A minute went by before he spoke.

  “You went to see Gerey without asking first?”

  “I don’t understand, is there a problem, sir?”

  “You should know better, Luca.”

  “We were following standard procedures.”

  “Standard? You see, Luca, that’s where your Yankee roots went wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand. It was just a routine visit.”

  “Routine? There’s nothing routine about the Boggs. You understand?”

  Vargas said, “Yes, sir. We realize how delicate the case is.”

  Morgan ran a hand over his flattop. “I want this case solved, but I want it done quietly. Last thing I need is a bunch of damn reporters out of Fort Myers crawling all over here.”

  Vargas said, “We’ll do our best, Sheriff.”

  Morgan leaned forward. “Gerey gave me the rundown on the trust. There’s a bunch of money at stake, ain’t there?”

  “All that money makes for plenty of motivation, if you ask me.”

  “I ain’t asking. Just what do you think, I can’t see a simple fact?”

  Before I could respond, Vargas said, “It would be helpful if you could speak with the DA about getting the subpoena we requested.”

  Morgan eased back in his chair and smiled. “Already did. Now, you run off to them lawyers down the hall and see if they’ve got a judge to sign off on it yet.”

  In stereo, we said, “Yes, sir.”

  We fist-bumped as soon as we left Morgan’s office, and headed to the prosecutor’s office. The subpoena wasn’t back yet, so we went down to our office to kill time before heading out to the Naples City Dock.

  Sipping a coffee, I opened my emails and scrolled through them. One sender jumped off the screen. I hit enter.

  “Hey, Vargas, guess what arrived?”

  “My Christmas presents?”

  “The Mexican police report on our boy Raul.”

  Vargas came around my desk and looked at a series of mug shots.

  “That’s him, all right. Look at the mug shot from his first arrest. He was just twenty-two, and from there you can see his descent into criminality in pictures.”

  “It’s like he picked up a tattoo for every arrest.”

  “And looks like he was using drugs more and more.”

  “You know what? Today he looks more like he did as a twenty-year-old.”

  “Maybe he’s cleaned himself up.”

  Vargas pointed and read over my shoulder. “He was also known as Raul Sandez.”

  “And a member of the Latin Kings gang. Those scumbags are into everything.”

  “Surprised it took him two years to steal anything.”

  “We don’t know if that’s true or not. Maybe nobody noticed.”

  “I don’t know, Frank, you’re the one who says greed gets small thieves to turn into bigger ones and then into inmates.”

  “That was pretty clever of me, don’t you think?”

  Vargas hit me on the top of my head. “I think we go see Sanchez or Sandez, but after we execute the search warrant on Gideon Brighthouse.”

  Chapter 32

  Gideon Brighthouse

  The sound of a boat approaching woke me up. I picked up the new biography on da Vinci off the floor and checked my watch. It was twenty after five. I slid a door to the deck open and went to the edge of the patio where the dock came into view.

  What? A police boat was tying up and three people had disembarked. What did they want? I can’t deal with all this. I darted back inside. Maybe I should make like I’m not here, or that I’m not feeling well. I needed a Valium, now.

  As I put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet I heard a rapping on the glass door and a voice call out, “Mr. Brighthouse? It’s the police.”

  Spinning my head around, I saw the master closet. It was a good place to hide, and I stepped toward it when I heard the housekeeper say that I was home. I took a couple of deep breaths and jumped into the bathroom, splashing water on my face.

  The housekeeper was calling my name as she mounted the stairs. Dabbing my face with a hand towel, I stepped into the master hallway and told her I’d be right down. Looking in the mirror, I took five slow, deep breaths.

  I paused at the top of the stairs. The detective guy who looked like George Clooney was holding my laptop, and his partner was rummaging through a drawer in my desk.

  “Excuse me, please leave my things alone.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Brighthouse, we’ve got a court order.”

  “I . . . I don’t understand. Who . . . who said you can do this?”

  The woman detective held up a document and replied, “Judge Wilson.”

  Digging into my back pocket I pulled out my cell phone.

  Detective Luca said, “What are doing?”

  “Calling my lawyer.”

  “Not with that.” He reached for my phone, and I took off for the deck. A uniformed officer stepped in front of me, snatching the phone out of my hand.

  The female detective took out a pair of handcuffs as she walked over. “Mr. Brighthouse, we need you to calm down and cooperate or we’ll have to restrain you.”

  I reached for a chair as light-headedness washed over me.

  “I . . . I need my phone.”

  “You can use the house line, but you’ll have to wait until we’re finished here.”

  My knees wobbled, and she said, “Please, take a seat and try to remain calm. I know this is difficult for you, but there’s no alternative.”

  Grabbing my chest, I said, “I . . . I need my Valium. I’m getting an attack. My chest is killing me. Hurry, it’s in my medicine
cabinet.”

  She called out to her partner to get the meds.

  Breathing choppily, I said, “You have to . . . leave. Take what you want. Just get out and . . . leave . . . leave me alone.”

  ***

  The Valium finally wore off and I woke up on the couch. It was ten fifteen. Shell, the housekeeper, was watching TV in the den and noticed me as I made my way to the bathroom.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Brighthouse?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “You sure, sir?”

  “I’m fine. Were the police here earlier?”

  She nodded. “You don’t remember? You’ve got to be careful with them pills of yours.”

  I forced a smile. “I was hoping it was a bad dream.”

  “There are turkey sandwiches and fruit on the kitchen table. Why don’t you have something to eat?”

  “Thanks, Shell.”

  “Good night, sir.”

  Before she was off the deck, I’d already eaten half a sandwich. I was feeling better. Grabbing the other half, I went to see what the police had taken besides my cell and laptop.

  ***

  No! No! I gasped and popped off my pillow. What’s going on? It was just a dream, thank God. It felt so real. I thought I was actually stabbing Marilyn. I could recall the resistance as I plunged the knife in. I rubbed my face.

  The clock said it was 2:35 a.m. I lay back down. Damn, that was frightening. I closed my eyes, but when I did, the image of Marilyn lying on the floor appeared.

  I got out of bed and did my breathing to try and relax, but my heart was still beating too fast. I sat in a chair and focused on my breath, feeling the air expand my chest before releasing it. After two cycles I was back to the image. I brought myself back to my breathing, but after another cycle a dead Marilyn flooded my head again.

  Vaulting out of the chair, I headed to the bathroom and downed two Valiums. I paced the room for ten minutes until they started to kick in.

  Chapter 33

  Luca

  Joan Hathaway met me at the door of her Port Royal home on Gin Lane. It looked about half the size of most surrounding homes. Still, it was worth around five million. I liked Hathaway right away. I was sure she had some facial work done, but she didn’t have that plastic look.