The Wind Is Rising 1

by Daniel Steele

  She took it in and just stared at him for a moment, then turned her attention to Deel. She walked up to stand beside the man. He looked to be a slender six foot. She had to be only five two or three and her stride to the edge of the yacht was a symphony. She stared at Deel with a stone face and then in lightly accented English asked, “You think we are a danger to other ships? Just by taking off the tops of our suits?”

  Deel returned her gaze, unsmiling.

  “Yes ma’am. I think you are very dangerous. Even with your top on, I think you’re dangerous to any man that sees you.”

  They stared at each other for a moment and finally a smile began to grow on her face. Even I started getting hard.

  “If we put our tops back on, could you possibly be merciful and let us go on to berth at your Riverwalk?”

  “You are breaking the law, you know?”

  “Even in the river? Between the banks of your great city?”

  “That only applies three miles off the territorial waters of the United States, ma’am.”

  She and the yacht owner exchanged glances and she looked again at Deel.

  “If I give you my word that we will not try to escape? We have plans to spend the night here. We were hoping to tour your city. Perhaps when you were not on duty, you might join us and direct us to some…nightspots?”

  Under his breath, McConnell murmured, “You son of a bitch. You are going to get laid tonight.”

  “I can trust you not to run off? I won’t be able to come by until after 8 tonight.”

  She smiled again and I think even Wilbur must have been getting an erection.

  “Life does not get interesting until after 8. We – I – will be waiting for you there.”

  I exchanged a glance with Wilbur. Deel was going to get laid. I was only a little jealous. He was a good looking young man and he was single. I was more contemplative. I had never been young in the sense that he was. I hadn’t been an unattached young lawyer when I still had hair and no gut. I had been married forever. My entire life had revolved around Debbie.

  Even now I didn’t regret it, but I couldn’t help wondering for a moment what it would have been like if I hadn’t taken the gig cleaning up after rich frat boys at a party. If I hadn’t been there for her that night. I would never regret being there for her, but there was something very male in me that missed not being single to get the looks Deel had gotten from the half-naked Italian cutie.

  The owner/skipper who obviously had help below because the yacht wasn’t simply drifting lifted his cap to Deel and smiled, saying, “Ciao” and turned and went below deck. The four young women blew Deel and McConnell kisses and then broke into an impromptu session of jumping jacks.

  I tapped Wilbur on the shoulder and when he tore his eyes away from the show, I told him, “Don’t look. I need to keep you alive for the trial.”

  He shook his head.

  “It would almost be worth it, but I do want stay here long enough to send that son of a bitch to the chair.”

  Both of us gave them a few peeks as the yacht moved further into the center of the river and then headed toward the Jacksonville Landing about a mile away.

  Deel was saying, “McConnell, what time do you get off? I might need help taking care of all four of them. I don’t even know if Viagra would be enough.”

  He looked back at me.

  “Maitland, you’re pretty old and I know you’ve got your hands full – no pun intended – but you feel like popping over with us tonight?”

  I did hope I’d have a chance to see Myra, maybe more, but even if I hadn’t been occupied I still would have passed. I was just too old. And I never felt more that way than right now. They reminded me of Kelly in their youth and beauty and energy, and that was too uncomfortable to even think about.

  “No thanks, Deel, but thank you for the offer. It takes a good man to offer to share the wealth like that.”

  “True, but I really want to save something for the near future for my friend inside there,” pointing over his shoulder to the hospital.”

  “You know her boyfriend is going to kill you, right?”

  “Who wants to live forever?”

  We had been so occupied in the vision sailing away from us and the banter that none of us had noticed the two men who came up behind us quietly. I turned to see one of them in an old-fashioned western-style duster coat and black Stetson come up and step between me and Wilbur and place his hand on Bell’s shoulder.

  “Wilbur Bell, I have a warrant for your arrest for the murders of Robert Hogshead, of Lenny Fargo and Alma Fargo. And the murder of Clifford Samms in the commission of a felony.”

  Then he turned to me and said, “Step aside. We’re taking him.”

  Deel grabbed his hand and took it off Wilbur’s shoulder.

  “The hell you are. Who are you guys?”

  “Deacon, Tommy Deacon. Deputy Sheriff with the Satsuma County Sheriff’s Office. We’re the guys who are taking Mr. Bell back for the murder of three Satsuma residents. And if you don’t let go of my hand, I’m going to rip it off.”

  Deel was a couple of inches shorter than Deacon, who appeared to be about 6-foot-2. He didn’t step back but lowered his hand to the Glock in his holster. I noticed that Deacon had a holster even though he was in civilian togs, all black pants and shirt. And under the duster he carried a .45 as big as a cannon.

  “Tough talk, redneck. That might scare folks back in the sticks, but you’re in the big city now.”

  I stepped around and between them and Deel let his hand go. I gestured to Deacon but he placed his hand back on Wilbur’s shoulder. I noticed the frightened expression on Wilbur’s face and didn’t need to read the blood pressure monitor to know his was going up.

  “Alright, no need for dramatics. Deputy Deacon, I’m Assistant State Attorney William Maitland. Maybe they do things different over in Satsuma County, but here there are steps you have to go through to make an arrest. And you’re not taking Mr. Bell anywhere. He’s a critical witness in a murder case we’re trying, and he’s in extremely poor health. Transporting him anywhere away from this hospital would be too dangerous.”

  Deacon gave me what must have been his version of a hard stare and said, “Doesn’t matter how they do it here. You have a problem, take it up with Judge Love. He’s the man who issued the warrant for this scumbag’s arrest. We were told to bring him back and we’re bringing him back. Whether he makes it back, well, that’s in the hands of a higher power. Not that it would be any great loss.”

  “Let me see the warrant.”

  They weren’t going to take him, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out what was going on.

  He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. After he handed it to me I opened it and read. Judge Reynard Love had signed the warrant in the county seat of Tangerine, Florida, authoring the arrest of Wilbur Bell for the cold-blooded murder of Satsuma County Deputy Sheriff Robert Hogshead, Lenny Fargo, Alma Fargo and the death of Clifford Samms during the commission of a felony, to wit, the murder of the three other victims on the evening of Friday, September 18, 1998, a half mile from the township of Orangedale Florida.

  The warrant alleged that a gentleman by the name of Cootie Mills had sworn that on the evening of Monday September 14, 1998, while buying a quantity of prescription drugs – primarily Vicodin – from Clifford Samms, he had overheard Clifford Samms and Wilbur Bell planning to murder Hogshead because he was a friend of the Fargos and that the Fargos had threatened to report Samms for selling prescription drugs in Satsuma. He’d gotten picked up on a felony drug trafficking warrant out of South Carolina the day before the shootings occurred and spent the next six years in a South Carolina prison cell.

  When he returned to Satsuma in 2005, he’d learned of the murders and questioning of friends of the Fargoes by police revealed a picture of a friend of Samms that Cootie identified as the conspirator and eventually the investigation had led to Bell.

  Based on that testimony, Jud
ge Love issued the order for Bell’s arrest on a charge of felony murder, conspiracy to commit murder, accomplice to murder by providing Samms with the murder weapon, and assault on a law enforcement officer.

  “The warrant said this supposed plotting and the murder took place almost seven YEARS ago,” I told Deacon, who looked more and more with each passing second like a gunfighter in a spaghetti western. “You’ve got a warrant based on the memory of a stoned junkie dealer from SEVEN years ago? And nothing else?”

  “Seems so. Judge Love and State Attorney Gregory seem to think it’s enough. I don’t try to figure these things out. I just bring them in who they tell me to, or kill them, whichever. Now, give us whatever medical gear he’s going to need. We hired a private ambulance company. That’s them pulling up right now. We’ll set him up and be on our way.”

  “Wasted your money. It’s not going to happen.”

  Deacon shook his head.

  “You don’t want to do this. This is a lawful warrant. And a murder warrant outranks witness protection. Make it easy on yourself and these guys. Get out of our way.”

  I looked back at Deacon’s silent partner. He sat there glowering with his hand resting on the butt of another .45. These guys obviously thought they were operating in the 1890s.

  “You’re not taking him. We’re not releasing him. You guys can’t just walk up and kidnap somebody with a piece of paper. You’re not bounty hunters. You’re sworn law enforcement officers if you are really deputies. You have to follow the rules and that means having the court here release him to you. That is never going to happen.”

  “We do things a little more simply. We have a warrant. We’re going to take him with us and if you try to stop us you’re interfering with our serving the warrant and we’re within our rights to do whatever we need to in order to do that. If we have to hurt you, you or your judges can take it up with Judge Love and Sheriff Bludwurth. But one way or the other, he’s going with us.”

  Wilbur looked at me with panic in his eyes and I began to get pissed. This was not good – for him or our case. These assholes couldn’t be as stupid as they were acting.

  I stepped between Deacon and Wilbur Bell. I put my hand down over his and grabbed and yanked his little finger back – hard. It was a trick Carlos had shown me. No matter how tough a guy is, bending his little finger back will break his concentration.

  With a yelp, Deacon broke his grip on Wilbur’s shoulder and in the next second delivered a roundhouse right with his other hand. Fortunately, that was one of the basic moves that Carlos had instilled in me. I threw up a right arm and deflected it. It was one of the times that being shorter was an advantage. I backed away from him. There was no point in getting into a fist fight if I could help it.

  Deacon reached down with his right to the .45 in his holster. Deel’s left hand caught it and held it while he pointed his Glock at Deacon’s midsection. I looked behind him and saw the silent Satsuma deputy had his big .45 aimed squarely at McConnell's chest, facing McConnell’s cannon –whatever the hell it was - looking back at him.

  Speaking between clenched teeth, Deacon told Deel, “Get your fucking hand off me.”

  And to me, “Call your dog off. You guys don’t back away, we’re going to have to kill you.”

  “Big talk,” Deel said. “From where I stand, we’re as likely to kill you. Why don’t you listen to Maitland, get your hands away from your guns and we’ll just arrest you, book you, and let your sheriff bail you out.”

  Deacon relaxed and took his hand off his .45 and Deel let him. With a small smile, Deacon raised his right hand into the air, looking back at the ambulance. A third deputy dressed in a more routine khaki outfit came out of the ambulance. He carried a long shotgun.

  Deacon looked first at Deel, than back to me.

  “I oughta kick your asses just for the principal of the thing. But I realize you guys probably do things different up here. Put those guns up, just stand here and look pretty till we get the old man loaded in the ambulance, don’t call anybody to stir up trouble, and you’ll live through this.”

  “Don’t put your guns up,” I told Deel and McConnell, who just nodded. To Deacon: “You won’t be able to get out of here that quickly. In the first place, you’re not leaving here at all. Deel, if shooting starts make sure this guy goes down. Secondly, this is going to take time you won’t have. Pretty soon you’re going to have squad cars coming from every direction.”

  I looked over the silent deputy.

  “They find out you killed two of their own, I don’t even think they’ll let you surrender. I think you’re going to die resisting arrest. And there’s about 1100 of them against the three of you.”

  The third Satsuma deputy had arrived and looked at Deacon. He was the lead dog.

  Deacon stared at me.

  “You going to give him to us? It would be a lot easier.”

  I caught Deel’s eye.

  “I really feel bad that I’m going to cost you your evening with that cutie.”

  “You feel bad?”

  “This is your last chance to be smart,” Deacon said. “Give up the guns and step away from him.”

  Looking over his shoulder I saw what I’d hoped for. Cops are always coming and going at St. Vincent’s, although you usually don’t see them because they enter and leave through the rear emergency room section. Three uniformed deputies were coming out at a fast trot from the hospital’s main entrance on the north side of the hospitals.

  Back at the entrance to the turnaround, I saw cruisers coming in north and south on Riverside Avenue, the main street that ran past the hospital. One came up following the regular access road, the other sped up against the traffic signs. Both slammed to a halt and seconds later two patrolmen jumped out of each vehicle. There were three men and one female officer. All carried shotguns.

  “I think the odds just changed, Deputy. Why don’t you surrender your weapon and tell your men to do the same thing?”

  He gave the oncoming Jacksonville cops a disgusted look and then without warning whirled with his .45 pointing at a white-faced Wilbur.

  “You know this isn’t the end of it, don’t you scumbag? You might have slid out of this one, but you better sleep with one eye open from here on out. That sick old man act isn’t going to work in Satsuma. We’ll be coming for you again, with deputies, or bounty hunters that don’t have to follow any rules. Or Judge Love will figure out a way to do it with paper.

  “But either way, you’re not going to get away with murdering a good cop and a friend of mine. Robert Hogshead was a good deputy and deserved better than being killed by your drug pushing buddy.”

  By this time the Satsuma deputies were surrounded and at a nod from Deacon the deputy who’d come out of the ambulance dropped his shotgun, followed by his pistol. Deel nudged Deacon, who turned the .45 and handed it to Deel by the barrel. The silent deputy held onto his the longest and there seemed to be an internal and unspoken argument between the two men. Finally, he dropped it to his side and McConnell stepped forward and took it out of his hand.

  Another cruiser pulled up and Beat Lieutenant Bart Jenner stepped out and came over to us. Looking over the three Satsuma deputies, he stared for a long time at the dusters they wore, then looked over at me.

  “Somebody filming a movie here, Maitland? What the hell’s going on?”

  “Not really sure, Bart. These gentlemen appear to be Satsuma County deputies and they appear to have a warrant for Mr. Bell. When I told him they couldn’t have him, things got ugly.”

  Jenner, who was a short muscular type about my height who despite the name had the straight black hair and skin color of his Mexican mother, looked around and asked, “Who’s the head man here?”

  “That’d be me, and you guys are making a mistake,” Deacon said. “A bad mistake.”

  “They tell me you walked into the hospital, demanded a witness we had custody of, and then came out here and drew SHOTGUNS on my men. And you’re saying we’re the o
nes who made a mistake? Is that how you execute warrants in Bugshit, or whatever backwater swamp you guys come from?”

  “They were trying to interfere with a lawful, court-ordered arrest. Where I come from – in SATSUMA COUNTY – you don’t screw around with police officers carrying out their lawful duties. Not if you want to keep on breathing. Your guys were out of line. They’re lucky we didn’t just beat them down and take our man.”

  Looking over at Deel and McConnell, Jenner said, “I don’t think you’d have found it that easy, but even if you had, you really thought we’d let you walk away? What planet do you live on? Maybe they do things that way in SATSUMA, but this is Jacksonville. We don’t really give a shit how you do things.”

  Deacon eyes flickered from Jenner to me and back. Despite the fact that he was surrounded by armed officers, he didn’t look intimidated.

  “You’ll give a shit after the Judge and Sheriff Bludwurth and State Attorney Gregory get through with you. Satsuma isn’t that big a county, but warrants and complaints to the state judicial commission about prosecutors defying court orders carry just as much weight as anything coming out of this county. And the three of them are going to bury you in paper.”

  He looked back to me.

  “I think the judge will order your arrest and ask the State Department of Law Enforcement to do the arresting. He’ll just ask you to come into his courtroom and explain what you did today.”

  He gave me a confident smile.

  “I don’t think you’re going to like what he’ll do to you. I don’t think you’re going to like Satsuma. Let’s see how big and tough you are on my home ground.”

  He was an asshole, but despite the Halloween party appearance, he appeared to be a legitimate law enforcement officer and there was no point in adding fuel to the fire.

  “Why don’t you gentlemen accompany Lieutenant Jenner and his men back to our courthouse. That will give us a chance to check out your paperwork and contact your superiors and get this misunderstanding straightened out. Get yourself some coffee, take a break. You guys had a long drive up from Satsuma. This will give you a chance to catch up a breath.”