Pirates in Peril: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Cozy Mysteries Series Book 10)

by Hope Callaghan

  Gunner answered. “A beautiful day to walk the plank.”

  A small smile lifted the corner of the young woman’s mouth when she noticed Gunner. “A talking parrot.”

  “Buenos días,” he replied. “Gunner is handsome.”

  “Buenos días,” the young girl replied.

  “Usted entiende español,” Pete said.

  “Yes, I speak Spanish,” the girl nodded.

  A cold chill ran down Carlita’s spine. She slowly turned to Pete, completely forgetting about the girl sitting in front of them. “You speak Spanish?”

  “Aye. Tis always good for a pirate to speak a second language, especially when he’s pilfering the islands, looking for booty.”

  “Looking for booty,” Gunner mimicked.

  Pete began going over the young woman’s application, and Carlita attempted to keep up with the interview, but all she could hear were Kyle Flinch’s words ringing in her head.

  Her mouth went dry. Pete opening the pirate ship venture…Pete arguing with Lawson…Pete staying on the ship the night Lawson was attacked…Kyle overhearing Lawson and a stranger speaking Spanish.

  She shot him a sideways glance. Had Pete attacked Lawson? Had he set fire to the Mystic Dream in an attempt to shut them down and eliminate the competition?

  A sudden thought occurred to Carlita. What if Pete and Mark Fox were working together to oust Lawson? Neither man liked Lawson.

  Pete turned to Carlita, a questioning look on his face and she knew he’d been talking to her.

  “I’m sorry, Pete. I missed what you said.”

  “I asked if you have any specific questions for Sylvia.”

  “I do have one question.”

  Pete slid the application toward Carlita and she focused her attention on the paper. “I see you worked for Lawson Bates.”

  “Yes.” Sylvia nodded. “I’m still employed, at least technically, although I have no idea what’s going to happen now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of Mr. Bates’ injuries. How did you hear about us?”

  “Luke Markham. He called a bunch of us to let us know you might be hiring,” Sylvia said. “I was already looking for another job. I was making less than minimum wage and I could barely pay my bills. Mr. Bates kept bringing new people in for us to train. I was always one of the trainers because I speak Spanish.”

  Alarm bells went off in Carlita’s head. “The new employees - they didn’t speak English?”

  “Not very many. One day we would have a new employee. The next it would be someone else. We were constantly training new people. We all complained to Lawson we didn’t feel we should have to train new employees all of the time. Nothing ever happened.”

  “I thought the employees were working on a petition to demand Lawson raise your wages or else,” Carlita said.

  Sylvia frowned. “No. A couple of us talked about it. As far as I know nothing was ever done.”

  “Do you know Kyle Flinch?” Carlita asked.

  “Yeah. He didn’t like Lawson either. He finally got fed up and quit.”

  Carlita scooched forward. “Kyle didn’t bring a petition around for you to sign?”

  “Nope.”

  “I think we’ve asked all of the questions we need to for now. Thank you for your time, Sylvia.” Pete stood. “We’ll get back with you in the next couple of days.”

  Pete led the woman from the office and returned with another potential employee.

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur as several other applicants arrived. Most were either current or previous employees of Lawson Bates and almost all repeated the same story, that they were being paid less than minimum wage, a legal loophole since all of them worked in the restaurant industry and there was no regulated minimum wage.

  They also complained of the high turnover of new employees who spoke no English. After the last applicant left, Pete settled in behind the desk. “What do you make of the interviews?”

  “They all said pretty much the same thing. Subpar wages and high turnover rate of non-English speaking employees.” Carlita drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.

  “Wait a minute!” She pulled her phone from her purse and scrolled through the pictures Autumn and Mercedes had taken while snooping around Lawson’s office. “Autumn took a picture of the employee roster the other night.” She looked up. “Do you have a copy?”

  “Aye. I do. It’s in my email.” Pete turned his attention to his computer. He reached for his mouse and began clicking the button. “Here it ‘tis.”

  Carlita slipped her reading glasses on and peered over Pete’s shoulder. “I never paid much attention to this list. If you look at it, you’ll notice something similar about each name on the list.”

  “They’re all Spanish names. Look at the dates.” Pete ran his finger along the screen. “Ten on this date. Then another eleven grouped together. Another ten after that. It’s almost as if they’re separated in segments.”

  “Meaning they didn’t trickle in one at a time,” Carlita murmured. A horrifying thought popped into Carlita’s head. “What if Lawson Bates was involved in human trafficking?”

  “The cousin of Savannah’s mayor?” Pirate Pete frowned.

  “He would be the perfect person to work the system. Think about it. He knows the ins and outs of the system. He could easily run up and down the coast, smuggling illegals in from Florida.”

  “Let me do a quick search.” Pete grew silent as he tapped the keys. When he sucked in a sharp breath, Carlita knew they were onto something.

  “You found something.”

  “Yes. There’s a suspected human trafficking path. It leads from the Gulf and Caribbean, up through Florida. Savannah is the gateway north. It’s called the Smuggling Straits.”

  Pete leaned in. “I found a story from late last year. It appears the Department of Homeland Security has been working hard to break up the trafficking ring and apprehend the major players. They’ve had some success in Florida.”

  “But not in Georgia,” Carlita guessed.

  “Not yet.”

  “Because Lawson Bates has connections.”

  “You’re right. We may be onto something.” Pete switched over to the list Autumn had photographed. “I’ll have to see if I can track down a contact at the Department of Homeland Security.”

  “It’s all falling into place,” Carlita said. “The night the girls boarded the Mystic Dream, Mercedes could’ve sworn someone was on the riverboat with them. The cheap labor, the Spanish speaking employees and high turnover rate.”

  “Working short spurts of time and then disappearing,” Pete said. “Could be one of the smuggled workers set fire and damaged the Mystic Dream.”

  “We’ve got to do something.” Carlita popped out of the chair and began to pace. “We have to proceed with caution. Technically, we have nothing to go on - just our hunches.”

  “I agree,” Pete said. “These are some very serious accusations.”

  “I’ll do a little more digging around on my end.” During the walk home, Carlita mulled over all of the clues. Mark Fox’s trip to South America, how Glenda said Mark intended to confront Lawson and now Mark was walking with a visible limp. Was that the result of a confrontation with Lawson? Was Mark Fox involved in human trafficking?

  She thought about Pirate Pete. Pete spoke Spanish, too. Pete had both motive and opportunity. He was guarding his pirate ship the same night Lawson was attacked. But why not confess to authorities if Lawson and he had become involved in a physical confrontation?

  Could it be that Lawson threatened to make sure Pete or even Mark Fox never moved forward with their business ventures using his cousin, Mayor Puckett’s, clout? Perhaps his real goal was to get them out of the way, fearing his human trafficking ring was in jeopardy.

  She still hadn’t been able to chat with Emmett Pridgen to get a feel for his involvement. The man was already a suspect in several suspicious business dealings in the Savannah area. What if he was involved in human
trafficking?

  Perhaps he was the one behind the scenes. From another previous investigation, she knew Pridgen was hot to get the gambling boat venture up and running.

  What if Pridgen was determined to turn Pete and Lawson against one another in an attempt to get rid of the Mystic Dream riverboat and the new pirate ship venture?

  Pridgen could succeed in eliminating the competition, clearing the way for the gambling boat!

  She picked up the pace. There had to be a way to meet with Pridgen. Mercedes and she still hadn’t heard back from the business development office on the bogus application for a graffiti art studio.

  Mercedes was in her room when Carlita arrived home. She made a beeline for her daughter’s bedroom and rapped lightly on the door.

  The door flew open and Carlita stumbled back. “You got me again.”

  “Sorry, Ma. It’s a bad habit.” Mercedes leaned her hip against the doorframe. “How did it go with the interviews?”

  “I think Pete and I figured out what’s going on at Lawson’s place. He’s involved in human trafficking.”

  “What?” Mercedes’ eyes widened. “Human trafficking?”

  “Think about it…the low wages, the high turnover, and the unusual roster of names. Pete and I began to piece it all together. We think Lawson has been smuggling people through what they call the Smuggling Straits. It’s an undercover operation of smuggling illegals into the United States and using them for forced labor.”

  “Among other things,” Mercedes said. “Remember how I said Autumn and I thought we heard someone on the Mystic Dream and then I thought I saw someone when I was getting off?”

  “It could be illegals coming into the country,” Carlita said. “Did you know Pete speaks fluent Spanish?”

  “No and so does Mark Fox. Remember what Kyle said? He heard Lawson arguing with someone in Spanish.”

  “In his office,” Carlita interrupted. “Where Autumn found the roster.”

  “And I heard noises and thought I saw someone.” Mercedes pressed a hand to her throat. “We have to do something.”

  “I agree. Before we go to the authorities with nothing more than a hunch, I want to see if we can glean some clues from Emmett Pridgen. He could be part of this, too.”

  “The receptionist said we’d be contacted in forty-eight hours or less. I think we should call.” Mercedes grabbed her cell phone off her desk and searched the internet until she found the telephone number for the business development office.

  Using her best professional voice, she asked to speak with Emmett Pridgen about a business application. She paused as she listened to the woman on the other end. “I see. Okay. Thank you.”

  “Well?” Carlita asked.

  “He’s in the office and in a very important meeting.”

  “Crud.”

  “No, not crud.” Mercedes squeezed past her mother and stepped into the hall. “We’re going down to the business development office and plant ourselves in the waiting room until Pridgen gets out of his meeting.”

  Chapter 20

  The same woman who was in the business development office the day Mercedes and her mother submitted the business application was there once again. She gave them a strange look when they walked in. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, we were in here the other day and filled out a business license application. You told us we would receive our answer within forty-eight hours or less, but we’re kind of in a hurry.”

  “Our office has been very busy with applications this week,” the woman apologized. “We’re experiencing a slight backlog.”

  “I completely understand, but I have potential clients waiting to see samples of our graffiti products and I need an answer,” Mercedes said. “If I recall correctly, you said the business development chairman, a Mr. Puckett...”

  “Pridgen,” the woman corrected. “Clarence Puckett is the mayor.”

  “Right. Mr. Pridgen would make the decision. I called a short time ago and you told me he was here, but in a meeting.”

  “That’s correct.” The woman nodded.

  “Perfect. We’ll wait over here until he’s out of his meeting.” Mercedes strode across the room to have a seat, positioning herself so that she was directly across from the reception desk.

  Carlita settled into the seat next to her. “Hopefully, we won’t have to wait too long.” She reached for a copy of the Savannah Today magazine and began flipping through the pages while Mercedes turned her attention to her cell phone.

  They sat for well over an hour before the receptionist made her way over. “You could be here for a long time.”

  “We’re in no hurry,” Mercedes said. “We have all of the time in the world.”

  “It’s Saturday and we close at two o’clock.”

  Mercedes set her phone in her lap and gave the woman her full attention. “I intend to see Mr. Pridgen today if I have to stay past closing.”

  “Suit yourself.” The woman marched back to her station, plunked down in her seat and frowned at Mercedes.

  Mercedes returned the look.

  “Whoever blinks first,” Carlita muttered.

  The sharp click of high heels drifted from the hall and two men, accompanied by a dark-haired woman, emerged.

  Carlita immediately recognized one of the men as Pridgen, the same man she saw the night in the Black Stallion club during a recent stakeout.

  The trio made their way to the door. Pridgen shook hands with both of them. “I’ll be in touch early next week.” He waited for them to exit the office before making his way to the reception desk.

  “These ladies,” the woman pointed to Mercedes and Carlita, “are waiting to have a word with you.” The receptionist handed Pridgen a file folder. He flipped it open and then closed it before speaking to the woman in a low voice.

  Pridgen tapped the tip of the file folder on the desk before slowly turning and making his way across the room.

  “Mrs. Garlucci?”

  “Yes.” Carlita stood. “I’m Carlita Garlucci and this is my daughter, Mercedes.”

  “My receptionist, Debbie, told me you’re anxious for an answer on your business application. We can go over it now. Follow me.”

  Pridgen didn’t wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and began making his way down the hall. He stopped in front of an open door and motioned them inside. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you for taking the time to see us without an appointment.” Carlita eased into the closest seat and Mercedes sat next to her.

  “I see you’re looking to open a…” Pridgen peered at the application. “Graffiti art studio.” He flipped the application over. “You live in Walton Square?” He shifted his gaze, peering at Carlita over the top of the paper.

  “Yes. We do,” Mercedes said.

  “And you already have several businesses…Savannah Swag Pawn Shop, you own several apartments, and you were just approved for a restaurant venture, Ravello, also located in Walton Square.”

  “That’s correct,” Carlita confirmed.

  Pridgen dropped the sheet of paper and leaned back in his chair as he studied the women.

  Carlita’s first thought was that he was sizing her…sizing them up. “You bought the old Delmario place last year.”

  “Inherited,” Carlita corrected.

  “Inherited the Delmario property.” Pridgen tapped the front of his chin with his middle finger. “I’ve heard your name before - Garlucci.” The name rolled off Pridgen’s tongue. “You moved here from New York.”

  “Queens to be exact. What does this have to do with our application?” Mercedes was beginning to lose her patience.

  “Nothing really. Just curious. Rumor has it you’re investing in Pete Taylor’s pirate ship, which, by the way is currently on hold.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Carlita said stiffly. “As my daughter pointed out, none of these things - my other businesses, my inherited property, our interest in opening a graphic art studio…”

  �
�Graffiti,” Mercedes interrupted. “Graffiti, not graphic.”

  “I find it intriguing a single woman would move to Savannah and start opening all sorts of different types of businesses, all within a relatively short period of time and all needing substantial amounts of capital.”

  “We’re savvy businesswomen,” Mercedes said. “Savvy enough not to put all of our eggs in one basket.”

  “Diversifying is always a smart business decision. I have a little friendly advice.” Pridgen smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. “Savannah is a small town with many area residents and business owners who have lived and worked here for generations. They take note of newcomers, especially ones who move down here from up north. Add to that the newcomers have wads of cash to invest. It piques the interest, if you know what I mean.”

  “It’s no one’s business where we get our money from,” Mercedes snapped. “Those folks would be better off minding their own business.”

  Pridgen ignored Mercedes’ rant. “As much as I would like to give you a definitive answer this afternoon, I’ll need to gather some additional information, a better description of the business, along with projected income. Once I get the information, I’ll present it to the business development’s board of directors for final approval.”

  “Fine,” Mercedes said. “We’ll be happy to give you everything you need.”

  “I’ll have Debbie at the front desk give you a second form you’ll need to fill out.” Pridgen stood - his signal the meeting was over.

  Carlita began to panic. The meeting wasn’t going as planned. She hoped to glean clues to figure out if Pridgen was involved in Lawson’s attack.

  Desperate to continue the conversation, she said the only thing she could think of to catch him off guard. “How is your casino boat project progressing?”

  The question did the trick. Pridgen paused. “It’s still in the planning stages. Are you asking because you’re interested in partnering on that project, as well?”

  “Maybe,” Carlita fibbed.

  “We have all the partners we need for the casino boat. If we decide to add more, we’ll keep you in mind.” Pridgen led them to the front desk. “Debbie, could you please give Mrs. Garlucci a copy of the business application Form B?”