by T. J. Jones
"Too fast Slater? I can slow down for you, or pick you up on the way back if you'd rather."
"I can make it." I panted. "Maybe just a little slower. It's my first time out, you can't expect me to run full bore right away."
"That wasn't full out. You can set the pace, but I want to see you sweating. The idea is to get exercise, not just go for a nature walk." She reached a hand out and pulled me to my feet. I started trudging toward the rising sun, worked out the kinks, and managed to keep up with the pretty redhead when she took over the lead. We must have reached the five-mile mark, because she stopped for a minute and started stretching. She eyed me as I sat down again. I moaned and stood up.
"You're going to get cramps if you don't keep moving around. Did you really want some exercise, or is there an ulterior motive behind this sudden interest in running."
"A little bit of both. I've got to get serious about getting in shape. You watch, in two months I'll be back to my fighting weight." We started back down the road, jogging at a comfortable pace for talking.
She glanced over at me. "Ever been in a real fight other than when the jocks used to pick on you in school?"
"Lots, unfortunately. Some of it was sanctioned boxing in the Navy, some of it was busting heads when drunken sailors didn't come along peacefully."
"Okay, so I shamed you into getting into shape. What else is going on."
"I need to know what Angie knows about Davey. There are things she's not telling us, or has she been talking to you?"
"She never talks to me, just at me. She had Davey growing up, and I was too little to ever really connect with her. She's a mess right now Slater, and Dad being home only makes it worse. Hard to say how she'll wake up. She does have stretches when she is okay, not the crazy highs and lows. My Dad will have a fit if he finds out you're pumping her for information."
"I got a letter from Davey about a month before he died. He said he was up here and that he and Angie cried on each other's shoulders. From the tone, it sounded like it might have been important to him, like he might have shared some secrets with her."
"They always had secrets, as far back as I can remember."
"Yeah, I remember that too. But maybe he told her something that would help."
"What you're saying is, can I bring her to your house?"
"That might be better." Frank wasn't the only Jeffries I was worried about eavesdropping. "She might be able to tell us things that would be helpful when we go to Miami."
"Okay, I'll try. If she crashes, she'll lock herself in her room and there'll be no getting her out of the house. She barely goes anywhere as it is."
"Your Dad made it pretty clear he doesn't want me around, so if you can get her to come over, that would be better."
"Sure you want me along?" She glanced over, just a trace of a smile framing her freckles.
I wasn't sure she was kidding, so I did. "You really need to stop crushing on me." She laughed and started running faster. She was a quarter mile ahead of me when she waved and trotted off down her driveway.
***
I went back to my house and started planning the finer points of our trip to Miami. Davey's apartment was on Collins in South Beach, so it wasn't surprising that he needed a roommate. If you wanted to be right in the middle of the action in Miami Beach, that was the place to be. Spring break, miles of white beaches, nightlife, prostitution, drugs; whatever your preference, you could find it on South Beach if you had enough cash. Like Davey said, it was all about the money.
I never did make it to the beach for spring break. My spring break was spent at the Great Lakes Recruit Training Center, compliments of the US Navy. Not a bikini in sight. Maggie talked like she had spent plenty of time in Miami, so I was hoping she could play tour guide to some degree. If what I'd heard from friends over the years was true, Frank was right, it could be a dangerous place. But that was true of any big city, Miami was no worse than most.
Finding a place to stay had been easier than I expected. It was still hot as hell in Miami, and the kids were back in school, so hotel rooms were plentiful. Still, I didn't want to blow Edith's money on a fancy hotel when the Holiday Inn in Miami proper would do. I'd decided to use the five grand she gave me first, then move on to Angie's money if it was necessary. I had no idea what I should be charging for my time, not to mention what my new sidekick would want to be paid for her time and the use of her car. Neither of us was busy anyway, and the main thing was to find out what happened to Davey. It was something we could talk about on the drive down there.
I Googled the hotel and Davey's apartment building, then took a look at the location of Davey's office. It wasn't what I expected. Kind of a seedy looking two story with a pawn shop on the main floor. Most of the clubs I had cards for were in Miami Beach. I found some videos of each on You-tube, all filled with over-indulging, scantily clad young men and women having the time of their lives. Talking to someone who might have known Davey, or what he was up to would be difficult in that setting. I was deep in thought when someone rapped on my front door. I looked at my phone, thinking I might have missed a text from Maggie, then walked to the door. Probably a Jehovah's Witness or someone getting a jump on the election.
The man standing at my front door was wearing a tan suit and a comically small straw Fedora with a black band. He swept it from his head and tucked it under an arm, revealing half a head of hair that was plastered straight back onto his scalp. He carried a small, soft-sided briefcase under his arm and looked every bit like a one of those televangelists you see on cable at three o'clock in the morning, warning about the second coming and advising you to send him money. Since he wasn't carrying a bible, I decided to risk it.
"Can I help you?" I pulled the interior door open but didn't unlatch the screen.
"Mr. Slater? I'm hoping I can help you. I'd like to sit down with you and discuss a business opportunity, a very good business opportunity."
I was glad I hadn't let him in, guys like that are hard to get rid of once they make it past the front door. I shook my head vigorously. "Not buying anything today, but thanks." I started to push the door shut.
"But Frank Jeffries sent me!"
I opened the door halfway again. "And why is that?"
"Might I come in and talk? He called me first thing this morning, and he was very persistent. When Frank calls me with an idea, I listen."
Intrigued, I unlatched the screen door. "Alright, not sure if I want what your selling, but you can sit down and have a cup of coffee."
"Black would be fine." He dropped his hat on the kitchen table and extended a hand. "James Kennedy, in charge of building acquisitions and land consultation. Our group has done a lot of work with Frank, and he has a reputation for making good things happen."
"I'll bet. Good things, huh?" If he caught the sarcasm, he ignored it. I poured him the last of my morning coffee and sat down across from him.
He looked down at the cup and blew at it like he already knew it was too hot without ever touching it. "I took the liberty of looking at the outside of your place, very nice, very nice! New stucco?" He jumped up suddenly and walked stiff-legged over to the kitchen sink and ran his hand around the edge of it, then put his head down next to the dark granite and slid his fingertips across the surface as if he were looking for ripples.
"So smooth." He closed his eyes and smiled. It was a little creepy. "Did you install the new kitchen cabinets, and the granite? Granite really adds to the value of a home, nice touch, very nice touch." He scurried back to the table, opened his briefcase and started throwing things out on the table, spreading out some pictures and what could have been contracts. He kept rocking back and forth and talking to himself as I reached out and pulled his coffee cup out of harm's way.
"Thanks. Now what is this about?"
"Property in this area has rebounded nicely after the recession and now's the time to get into the market. This is a really great deal for you. I have several properties I know you'll find interest
ing."
"Like I said, what are you talking about? I am perfectly happy living right here and I have no intention of selling. If you're looking for a listing, I'm not your guy."
"Oh, no, that's not it. I only meant that you seem very good at what you do."
"What I do?"
"Yes, remodeling, of course. Mr. Jeffries insisted that I come here today and show you a few of the houses we want you to work on. We want you to start right away, right away. Our company, along with Mr. Jeffries, owns dozens of lower end homes in the area, all snapped up during the recession and still in need of repair. We have the option of hiring a contractor, but if you were co-owner, you could make the repairs yourself and avoid a lot of the expense of contractor fees."
"I'm sure you've heard the expression that if something sounds too good to be true it usually is, right Mr. Kennedy? This sounds like one of those times."
He bounced his head quickly, doing an impression of a balding, middle aged bobblehead. "I understand what you're saying, but the timing is really fortunate, and Frank Jeffries' optimism about the project is a huge bonus."
"His optimism? How about his money? Is that part of the deal?"
"No, not directly." Baldy struggled a little, trying to frame it right and catch his breath. "But we work with him a lot, and he is a valued client. When he suggests a project, we pay attention. He has the Midas touch, you're very lucky, it's really good deal."
"So, I'd be part owner?"
"Absolutely. Our company would sell you each house on contract, with no money down. After you complete the remodel, we would handle the sale, recoup the price of the house and split the profits with you. And of course, pay you for labor and whatever improvements you saw fit to make."
"Once again, sounds too good. What's the catch?"
"No catch what so ever. We move these older homes without any overhead, you make a nice profit on each one, plus your labor. You can't lose, really a great deal."
"Yeah, it's a great deal, I get that. What does Frank get out of this?"
"A few of the old homes are his, so he would benefit as well. That's what we do for him, property management."
"How about you leave me one of your proposals and I'll look it over, maybe have my lawyer take a look at it. I'm tied up for a while, but maybe the first of November or so, I could get going on a project."
"Oh, yikes! Yikes! That could be a problem. Yeah, that's going to be a problem." He shook his head, bobbling again. It was beginning to make sense to me, but I had to hear it. Kennedy shook his head again and looked upset, then took another breath and made a visible effort to talk slower, like I might have missed what a wonderful opportunity he was offering me.
"That's what I was saying, about the fortunate timing. Our company has given me until the end of this month to get things moving on these properties or they're going to liquidate for whatever they can get out of them. If I don't show some progress on at least a couple of these houses, a signed contract and the start of some work, I don't think I can convince them to hold onto them."
There it was, Frank Jeffries pulling strings and throwing his weight around. His way to keep me out of the way, maybe even a subtle bribe. If I was pounding nails and hanging sheetrock, I wouldn't have time to play detective and drag his daughter off to Miami.
"Sorry Mr. Kennedy, but I have other obligations. If the deal is still available in a couple months, we'll talk."
"But this could turn into a very lucrative business for you, Mr. Slater. My company has a lot of contacts around here, we could get you a lot of work."
"I'd appreciate that, but that can happen in November just as well as now."
"But all these houses, they'll probably be gone. Think about it, please. It's too good a deal to pass up."
He was entirely too desperate. His company would turn a profit either way, if in fact there was such a company, not just Frank Jeffries trying to run my life. I had tried to be cordial. "Leave me your card and I'll think about it, best I can do." I stood up and grabbed his coffee cup and emptied it in the sink.
"Really good deal." He mumbled again as he stuffed his papers back in his briefcase and tried to coax the Fedora into place on his head. "I really think you should reconsider, I'm afraid you may regret this." I let him out and had shut the door before it dawned on me that what he said could have been considered a threat. Lucky for James Kennedy it hadn't occurred to me sooner.
***
Angela knocked on my door just after lunch. She was wearing dark sunglasses, a floppy white hat, and a pair of shorts the color of lemons. Her paisley shirt hung open and she had three strands of pearls hanging around her neck that had fallen down between her ample breasts. Maggie stood behind her looking considerably less like a Fifties' movie star, but every bit as beautiful as her sister. I stood aside and let them come in, giving Maggie the slightest wink.
"You two look very nice. Thanks for coming over Angie."
"I love the new counter top. I haven't been in here for years." She pulled her sunglasses off and bit her lip, looking petulant. "Sorry about that time, Slater."
"Water under an old bridge. Hey, you called me Slater. Thank you."
"Eric Slater, Private Eye!" She mocked as she framed an invisible movie screen with her hands. "I'll play the helpless damsel in distress, and Maggie can be your trusty but inept sidekick. Coming to theaters near you!"
Maggie had to get in the act. "Wrong, I'm the lead. Slater's the bumbling gumshoe that I am continually saving. The Chubby Gumshoe, now that could be a movie!"
"My whole body hurts from trying to keep up with you this morning, so be nice. But thanks Angela, I don't think your Dad would be happy if he knew you were here."
"No, so we just won't tell him." She laughed. "What do you have planned as far as the trip to South Beach?"
"I've never been there, so I'm hoping you two can help me. We're staying in Miami and I thought we could take a cab over to Davey's office first thing Friday morning. Then we can go to Miami Beach and talk to his roommate and hoof it from there. The apartment is just a block off Collins on the opposite side of Ocean Drive. Two of the clubs he had cards for are walking distance from there. I'm not sure how to play it, just wander in and start asking the bartenders if anyone knows him, or sit down with some management, maybe before they open. If he was dealing drugs, maybe they were selling for him." I stopped talking, but not soon enough.
"Why in the world would you think he was selling drugs?" Angie asked quickly.
I didn't want to give too much away, but I suspected she might already know about the money. "I guess he had a lot of cash, coming and going. Did he ever say anything to you, about having a lot of money?"
"He told me once that he liked to help people, like a charity or something. That's why he was always broke."
"Nothing else? I got a letter from him and he said the last time he was home you two had a heart to heart."
"Yeah, kind of." She said cautiously. "Mostly it was just me, being dramatic."
"Not you?" For whatever reason, Maggie had to get into it. Angela took the ribbing well, which surprised me.
"I was all wound up, like I get when I have my mood swings, and I was mad at Daddy. Davey always said we cried on each other's shoulders but mostly it was just me crying on his. He did say that things were really bad at work, some big boss had been in town with a client from overseas, and things didn't go like they were supposed to. It was kind of weird."
"Weird how?"
"It seemed like he took it really personally, he was close to crying." She pursed her lips, like she was thinking. I caught myself staring and I looked away quickly, glancing at Maggie. Angela continued. "I think maybe he liked the guy, or had a close relationship with him. He didn't say it exactly, but I just got that feeling, like the man was really important to him somehow, you know what I mean?"
"Slater knows all about being obsessed with someone." Maggie said dryly.
Angie glanced between us and I deflected. "Yeah,
I used to have this little girl that was obsessed with me, always riding past my house on her bicycle. Too Small, somebody."
Angela laughed loudly. "God, I can't believe you used to do that, Maggie. Mom actually had to take her bike away to keep her home."
Maggie turn several shades of scarlet and glared at us both. "Enough about me when I was ten. Slater, I take it you want to go down Thursday night? Maybe you should walk."
"They make bicycles for two people you know." Angela giggled, refusing to give it up.
"Alright, let's not pick on Maggie. Anything else about Davey? I thought this agency was just local at first, but it seems more like a franchise. Did he say where this big boss was from, or where the important client might have been from?"
"Dubai. I remember that because I was impressed that he had a client that far away. He said the guy was really mad and making all kinds of threats."
"Dubai, huh?" Maggie put in. "Pretty big reach for a talent agency."
"Good question to ask the people he worked with, if they'll talk to us."
They stayed for another hour, and it was nice. They were acting like sisters, sisters that cared about each other; laughing and joking and taking turns picking on me. We talked about Davey some and about Miami, then they got in Maggie's convertible and went home.
I was a little obsessed too. Sisters will do that to you.
Chapter Eight
If there is one thing that defines the quintessential American dream for me, it's driving down the Florida coast in a convertible with the top down, the sun shining, and a beautiful woman beside you. In my teenage fantasies, I was driving and the woman was Maggie Jeffries' sister, but this was pretty damn close. It was about as perfect as an aging ex-sailor turned Private Investigator could hope for.
