Deep Blue Goodbye

by Robin Mahle

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?” Allison asked.

  “I’m sure. The bright side is no one else seems to know where she is either.”

  “Always looking at the bright side. But that makes it all the more urgent we find her.”

  “It’s time to tell Shane,” Charlie said.

  Allison nodded. “I’ll drive.”

  23

  Shane perched on the edge of his desk and rubbed his chin. “I can’t believe you would do something so completely reckless, Allison. And you, Charlie? I would’ve expected more from you. Instead, you both risked your lives and for what?”

  “For damning video evidence that the mayor had a hand in the death of not only Tracy Diaz and Harlan Goodfellow, but it’s looking like he also played a part in the murder of Tommy Boyce and now Fin Dawson. The bodies are piling up, Shane. We thought we were doing the right thing.” Allison spoke with dogged conviction. “But Lucy—she’s who I’m worried about now.”

  “Charlie, you’re sure it wasn’t the men from Dawson’s house who showed up at the Boyce residence?” Shane cast a wary eye toward potential eavesdroppers. “The men you say work for Mayor Sadler?”

  “It definitely wasn’t,” Charlie said.

  He pushed off the desk and sat down at his computer. “Hand over the flash drive. You do have it with you, I hope?”

  Charlie opened her handbag and retrieved the storage device, handing it to Shane. “Here. See for yourself. It’s really bad.”

  “Your most insightful comment of the day.” He inserted the drive into his computer.

  “It’s the file third from the bottom. Recorded September 8th at 2:45pm. There are two. The first one doesn’t give away much, but the second, that’s the valuable piece,” Charlie replied.

  Allison looked at Shane. “Can we get a number for her out-of-state relative? I have the man’s name written down. It would be a good idea to either let him know she might be coming or to call us if he hears from her.”

  “Give me the name and I’ll look into it,” Shane replied.

  She retrieved a sticky note with the name of the relative. “I should’ve kept in closer contact with her. She’s all alone.”

  Charlie placed her hand on Allison’s arm. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t want this to sound callous, but she is a grown woman.”

  “Charlie, she’s 19,” Allison replied.

  “And she has street smarts thanks to her dad. I’m just saying, you can’t shoulder responsibility for everything. You couldn’t with Micah and you can’t with Lucy.”

  Allison shot her a stern look. “That was different.”

  “Was it?”

  “Okay, I see what you guys were looking at,” Shane interrupted. “I can’t argue with the fact this puts Clay Sadler in a negative light.” He swiveled toward them. “But if you think he doesn’t have a boatload of people in his pocket, then your ideas on politics are severely misguided.”

  “We aren’t operating on ill-advised ideas, Shane. And when you see the next video, that’s when you’ll understand that this is so much bigger than we thought,” Allison replied.

  Shane frowned before returning to the screen. “Show me.”

  Allison played the file and sat back, waiting for him to see what they were up against. When the video played out, she continued. “Now you see? Fin was an undercover federal agent. Milo knew it and so did the man he was talking to. If we can find out who he is, we might be one step ahead of Sadler,” Allison replied.

  “How do we bring down Sadler without risking Lucy’s life in the process?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, I don’t know who that man is Fin was talking to, but I’ll bet Milo does. He’s only told us what we needed to know. Maybe he thought he was protecting us,” Allison said.

  “What we did last night was illegal,” Charlie began “And so is the evidence Shane currently has in his police-issued desktop computer. Montoya and Alvarez will have our heads on a plate and Allison won’t stand a chance at getting a P.I. license. I realize that’s not the priority here. I’m just saying. We broke the law. There will be consequences.”

  Shane nodded. “I am going to have to hand over this flash drive, but I can protect you both by insisting it was turned over by an anonymous tipster. It won’t come back to either of you if I have my way.”

  “So you’re going to have to lie for us?” Charlie shook her head. “That’s not right, Shane. We can’t let you do that.” She looked at Allison. “I know you agree with me. Look, we did it and we’ll have to suffer the repercussions. Maybe, once all this comes to light, we’ll be given leniency, you know, for exposing a corrupt government official. But I can’t—we can’t, in good conscience, let you lie for us.”

  “She’s right,” Allison added. “We’ll just have to deal with that when the time comes. I’d rather the detectives know what they’re up against and maybe be able to save some lives—including Lucy’s.”

  “What I want is for you both to go home and get some sleep,” Shane said. “You’ve been up all night on this and now it’s my turn. I’ll run this up the flagpole and I’ll get the contact information on Lucy’s relative. When I have something, I’ll call you, okay?”

  “Got it.” Allison stood from the chair. “Come on Charlie, I’ll take you home.”

  The penthouse apartment where Carlos Diaz now resided alone was where he had been holed up since the funeral. He was hiding out to avoid the press, his friends, and his board of directors. They blamed him for the death of his wife. He saw it in their eyes. It didn’t seem to matter to any of them that she was having an affair with his CFO, Harlan Goodfellow.

  “I didn’t kill them.” Carlos tossed back the rest of his Jack and Coke, his third of the day and it was only 2 pm. But then most of his days were spent in a state of intoxication.

  The money had been moved and there was no evidence he’d ever received a payoff from Clay Sadler’s campaign slush fund. It was now sitting in an offshore account that if the FBI got involved, it would no doubt be easily traced back to him.

  Carlos walked to the window and stared out across the bay. “How did this get so out of hand?” He loved Tracy and never wanted to see her dead. He had gotten in up to his eyeballs with the mayor and his people. There seemed to be no way out. If only Tracy had kept her mouth shut. “Christ.” Carlos walked toward the kitchen and poured himself another drink. He had to be prepared for Franklin Perry. The two were set to meet inside the hour. Carlos refused to leave the apartment, so Perry was coming to see him. It seemed every time he left his house, some idiot member of the press hounded him. Someone was bound to make the connection sooner or later. That was the reason for Perry’s impending visit; to formulate a plan.

  Carlos diverted his attention when the knock came, and he opened the door. “You’re early. Come in.”

  “Couldn’t be helped. Something came up and I needed to move our meeting. But I see you’re not busy.” Franklin Perry entered.

  “How could you have let this happen?” Carlos downed another swig of his drink. “Did you know that guy was FBI?”

  “No. Neither did Clay. His boys weren’t supposed to do anything to the kid. I don’t know what happened, but Clay is looking for answers. That’s why I’m here. We need a way out because when the FBI gets here, there’s no protecting any of us.” Franklin took a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What about the account? Is it closed?”

  Carlos nodded as he joined Franklin in the living room, dropping onto a chair across from the sofa. “Nothing will trace back to me or to Sadler.”

  “Or me?”

  “You’re in the clear too.”

  “Good. That’s a start,” Franklin said. “Where is it? The money, I mean.”

  Carlos eyed him. “I said it’s safe.”

  Franklin turned serious and leaned over with his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m making sure you didn’t spend it, that’s what I need to know. All we need is the cops finding
some major purchase with no way to answer for it. Look, I’m trying to help you, man. I’m not doing this shit for my health, you got it?”

  “Got it.” Carlos raised his hands in defense. “It’s in an offshore account. I’m not an idiot. I know the cops were at Tracy’s funeral. They’re watching me like a hawk. I can’t even leave this place without someone following me. Don’t suppose you can do something about that?”

  “You’re better off here anyway. Let them believe you’re in mourning.”

  “I am,” Carlos insisted.

  “Sure you are. You should know that I’m not the only one who noticed you didn’t attend Harlan’s funeral. That doesn’t put you in a favorable light, my friend.”

  “The guy was screwing my wife. You think any man would have blamed me?” Carlos replied. “Look, why are you here? To remind me that the noose around my neck is tightening?”

  “The federal agent. That’s why I’m here. Carlos, the cops and the feds are going to come to you with this. The man who was killed had close ties to Tommy Boyce, the P.I. you hired. Sadler wants to be sure you’ll do the right thing.”

  Carlos scoffed. “The right thing? And what might the right thing be in this torrent of shit I’m standing in?”

  “You’re to keep your mouth shut about the kid—the fed. You don’t know anything about him or his association with Boyce,” Franklin replied.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard since I didn’t know him.”

  Franklin stood. “Just so we’re crystal clear on this point, Carlos, am I to understand that you will do as you’re told?”

  “I said I’ll be your Huckleberry.”

  Franklin started toward the door. “That’s all I needed to know. You have a good evening, Carlos. Try not to drink yourself into a stupor.” He opened the door to leave.

  Carlos watched him close the door behind him. “Asshole.” He returned to the chair and eyed his cell phone before finally retrieving it. Clay Sadler was his top contact and so he called his friend and cohort. When the line answered, he began, “Clay, it’s Carlos. I think it’s time we sit down for a talk. Perry just left my place.”

  “Not over the phone,” Clay replied.

  “Then we need to meet. Now.”

  “The boat. Thirty minutes.”

  The time it took for Carlos to make arrangements for a clean getaway from his apartment and the drive to the marina took longer than the thirty minutes on which Clay had insisted. But Carlos wasn’t worried. He had the mayor dead to rights and Clay knew it. Sending Franklin over did nothing but stoke Carlos’s anger. He was a man with nothing left to lose and could take down all the players with a single visit to the Tampa Police Department.

  Carlos understood that ultimately this situation had been of his own making. Hiring Tommy Boyce to get the goods on Tracy was one thing, but then she went and told the private detective about the money, the deals, all of it. When Clay caught wind of it, well, she’d signed her death warrant, and Harlan’s. Franklin refused to give a name, though he knew who killed her. It was a process of elimination and Carlos figured it out, even if he had no proof.

  There were moments when the grief swelled in his chest from out of nowhere and as Carlos walked along the dock toward the slip where the yacht waited, one of those moments struck. But he couldn’t show Clay any weakness, not when he was about to use everything in his arsenal to protect his own skin. He pushed back his shoulders and raised his chin in defiance.

  “You’re 10 minutes late.” Clay Sadler, the distinguished mayor of Tampa, stood on the deck of his 100-foot yacht with a glass of wine in his hand. “Well, are you coming aboard or not?”

  Carlos stepped on the ladder and climbed onto the luxury boat on which he had been a guest many times before. One of the perks of dealing with a crooked city official. “I apologize for my delay. It’s been difficult keeping the media off my back. I’m sure you wouldn’t want any of them to track me down here, Mr. Mayor.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, Carlos, I’d say that was a thinly veiled threat.” The short man with a medium build and dark olive skin moved toward the leather-wrapped bench along the side of the bow. He sat down and stretched his arm across the railing, peering at Carlos with acute brown eyes.

  “I’m not threatening you, Clay.” Carlos approached him. “I’m simply stating a fact.” He eyed the wine.

  “Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a glass?” Clay returned to his feet and walked down into the living quarters.

  Carlos followed him.

  The mayor retrieved a glass from the dark cherry cabinets that lined the galley and pulled the wine from the refrigerator. “This is an excellent year. It won’t disappoint.” He handed the glass to Carlos.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, you called this meeting; insisted on it, actually.” Clay emerged from the galley and met Carlos at the dining table. “Please, sit down. What would you like to discuss?”

  After taking a seat, Carlos sipped on the wine, savoring both the flavor and the building of anticipation. “Franklin Perry paid me a visit.”

  “Yes, I know,” Clay replied. “I asked him to see you, to see how you were holding up.”

  “Holding up, or holding up my end of the bargain?”

  “I believe you know the answer to that. Let’s not skirt around the issue. I don’t have the time. Why don’t you get to the matter at hand?”

  Carlos sat fully upright and captured Clay’s eyes. “You understand that by removing the federal agent, you cast a bright spotlight in my direction.”

  “First of all, I’m not sure to what you’re referring. Secondly, I don’t see it that way at all, Carlos. I see it as Mr. Boyce, a man you hired, had an associate. That associate, who happened to be an undercover agent, was ensnared in a situation beyond the reach of either of us. It was an unfortunate episode and that is what you will tell the police when they come to you, which they most certainly will, given your association.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Carlos replied. “But this will go well beyond the local city police force and we both know that. The FBI doesn’t like it when one of their own is murdered. Whatever Finley Dawson was working on will come to light and I honestly don’t know how to keep my end of the bargain because I can’t imagine what he had to do with you or our arrangement.”

  The mayor smiled and cocked his head as if convinced he had Carlos pegged. “Ah, I think I know what this is about. Given your elevated risk, you believe you should be compensated. Well, I can’t say I disagree with you, Carlos. But as you know, your finances are sure to fall under great scrutiny. A transfer of any kind right now would be unwise.”

  “Clay, cut the shit. This isn’t about money. Not anymore. Whatever deal we had regarding the revitalization efforts is long over. This isn’t a game. Lives have been lost and I know I’m not responsible for that.”

  “Aren’t you?” Clay began. “It was your wife who confided in the P.I. who in turn brought in the undercover agent.”

  “I think you might have that backward. That agent was doing work for you and you didn’t know anything about him. Yes, he knew Boyce, but that appears to have been a coincidence. Clay, I believe we are at the end of our arrangement and I’m afraid there seems to be no way forward.”

  “You know, Carlos, I don’t believe in coincidences. And there’s always a way out. Dawson is gone and so is any connection to me he had. They can’t connect us and it will stay that way as long as you keep to the story. The feds will come, yes. But they won’t connect the dots. Not on this.”

  “I truly hope you’re right.” Carlos stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Mayor. I do appreciate you taking a few moments out of your busy schedule.”

  “Anytime, Carlos. We’re in this together. Have a good day and try to get some rest. Just know that Tracy is in a better place.”

  Carlos stopped on the polished cherry steps leading topside. He turned to face Clay. “Don’t think for one minute I don’t
know what you did.”

  “Me?” He placed his hand on his chest. “You have that wrong, Carlos.”

  “I don’t believe I do, Mr. Mayor. That’s something you would do well to remember.” For a moment, Carlos expected to hear the sound of a gun being cocked into position. It must’ve only been in his head. He continued up to the deck and disappeared.

  Clay Sadler waited until he was certain Carlos had left before reaching for his cell phone. “Franklin, it’s Clay. Listen, what we discussed before, I think the time’s come for you to handle it. He’s backed me into a corner, and you know how I hate that.”

  24

  Franklin Perry ended the call and turned his sights to Milo Nash as they sat in his office. “I think we got him.”

  “That was Sadler?” Milo asked from behind his desk.

  “Yep. He says he wants me to take care of the problem. That problem is Carlos Diaz.”

  “It’s about damn time,” Milo said. “We can finally put an end to this.”

  “When I met with Carlos, I could see he was losing it because of what happened to Dawson. He must’ve gone straight to Sadler and Sadler apparently didn’t like what he had to say.”

  “It’s a damn shame about Dawson, though. I thought the kid had his buddies covering his back. If I would’ve known he was exposed, we could’ve protected him,” Milo said.

  “The real question is, how did he get made? Last I talked to him, he was still cozying up to Sadler, but Sadler had reservations. And after Boyce was killed, I think Dawson was afraid of who to trust. He stopped coming to me or you. Decided he would take the situation into his own hands. The feds will come after Sadler and his people, but we need to find them first if we stand a chance at making any charges stick.”

  Milo nodded. “When that’s done, I want to bring Lucy Boyce home.”

  Franklin eyed Milo with concern. “I agree. And what about your friend, Hart? Have you been able to keep her on a short leash?”

  “I haven’t heard from her in almost 24 hours. I’ll rectify that here shortly. Don’t worry about her. She’s got a good nose for things, but she won’t get in the way of what we’re trying to do.”