Life's a Beach Then You Die

by Falafel Jones

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I left Clive Howard’s office and headed down to the lobby. When I got there, a guard stopped me and asked for my green “BLDG 2” sticker. I peeled it off and gave it to him. As I suspected, he didn’t want my temporary photo ID so when I got into my car, I placed it in my pocket. When I approached the guard booth on my way out, there was a gate barring the exit lane. I stopped and the same guard I saw before stepped out. “Good Afternoon, sir. May I have your temporary ID please?”

  I glanced down at my shirt collar, looked at my lap and then back up at the guard. “Gee, I’m sorry; it must have slipped off my collar. I didn’t even notice.”

  The guard frowned at me. “Visitors must safeguard their IDs sir. Failure to do so may lead to you being barred from the A. V. Designs campus in the future.”

  “I’m very sorry. Next time, I’ll be more careful.”

  “Please do sir,” he said and then returned to the booth where he took his time writing something in a book before pressing a button to raise the gate.

  When I got home, I went to my office to secure my purloined A. V. Designs photo ID. When I pulled an envelope out of my desk drawer, I noticed the blinking number two on my answering machine display. I put my photo ID in the envelope and then pressed the button to hear the first message.

  “Hello, Mr. Fried. This is Amanda Finch from Ms. Eastwood’s office. I’ve completed looking into that matter for you and I’m calling to report my results. Please call me at your convenience.” She left me both her office and cell numbers.

  The second message was from Ed. “Max. Call me immediately.”

  If it was so important, I wondered why he didn’t call my cell. Then I remembered I turned it off when I met with Clive Howard and forgot about it. I turned it back on and there was a voice mail from Ed with the same urgent message. I called him back and he answered on the first ring.

  “Max. Have you heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Someone tried to kill Corky.”

  “What? How? How is she?”

  “She’s fine. After I drove her home from the police station she called Amanda to retrieve her car from the EFH lot. Amanda had one of the guards follow her in his pick up so she could get a ride back to the office. After she breezed through a red light without slowing down, the guard realized something was wrong with her brakes. He pulled in front of her, went bumper to bumper and used his truck to stop her car.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yeah, shook up, but all right.”

  “What about Corky’s car?”

  “Front end damage. The police looked it over and found a perforated brake fluid line and a slice in the seat belt. The guard also said that when Corky’s car first made contact with his truck, they were going fast enough that he was surprised the air bag didn’t deploy.”

  “Corky and Horton are the only people alive who have seen the Skipper.”

  “Yeah, and there was no reason to expect that she wouldn’t be driving her own car home at the end of the day.”

  “…but Torres took her to the police station and saved her life.”

  “Luckily for Amanda, she had a smart guard with a big truck.”

  “About an hour before your call, I got a message to call Amanda. Think she can talk?”

  “Considering what happened, it may be important. I’d call her back.”

  I hung up with Ed and looked at the time display on the telephone. Not only was it past business hours, it was dinnertime. Even a dedicated personal assistant like Amanda Finch probably wouldn’t be at the office this late – especially after surviving attempted murder. I wondered if I should call her cell phone. Then, I decided that if she didn’t want to talk, she could simply turn it off. She could, but I didn’t think it likely she would. I imagined Corky Eastwood’s reaction should she be unable to reach her personal assistant 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

  I dialed Amanda Finch’s cell phone number. Ahh, perhaps now, I’ll be able to put a name to the Skipper. When she answered, she didn’t sound like someone who almost died in a car. I offered my sympathy for her ordeal. She thanked me and got to the reason for her call. She was all business.

  “Mr. Fried. I’ve researched our personnel and payroll records for 1984 for staff that may have worked on Mr. Eastwood’s yacht. I found none, so I searched 1983 and 1985. Again, there were no records of any staff employed on Mr. Eastwood’s yacht. I believe these men may have been ah, independent contractors, paid directly by Mr. Eastwood. I am sorry. I know that doesn’t help you to identify the Skipper.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Finch. I really appreciate your efforts. I was a little surprised to get your message so soon after I spoke with Corky.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, right after I asked Corky for the information, the police took her and I didn’t think she was too happy with me.”

  “The police were a bit of a shock, but that’s why Corky is who she is. She says she’ll do something, she does it. Besides, she’s not annoyed. Since she spoke with you and the police, she’s anxious to find the Skipper.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She spent part of the summer of 1984 on a sailboat with three men. One is dead. Someone tried to kill another, someone tried to kill her and the third man, the Skipper is missing. She wants to know what’s going on. She thinks the Skipper may be the clue. I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything. We’re hoping you can.”

  She seemed disappointed she could not find out his name. She didn’t sound like she was accustomed to failure.

  I hung up the phone and thought about this. I also wanted to identify this third man in the photo beyond him being “Skipper” but I really didn’t know where to look next. In desperation, I went to my computer and Googled “Captain’s license”. In return, I found information about the types of captain’s licenses, the requirements for getting one and schools where I could study for one. However, I could not find anywhere to look up who had one. Even if I had found a license directory of some sort, I had no information to feed it besides a year and a style of moustache. I doubted any existing database would respond favorably to 1984 and Fu Manchu.

  Google searches sometimes provide what I want if I can guess some of the words likely to have appeared in a document that I need. Since there was a connection here involving three locations, I thought I’d see what documents contained the words New Smyrna Beach, Miami and Key West. What I got back was mainly a listing of Beach cams and tourism web sites, nothing useful.

  Maybe I could find out more about the Miami incident that Corky mentioned. The first place I looked was at the online edition of the Miami Herald. I really didn’t expect them to have anything back as far as 1984 but it didn’t hurt to look. My pessimism was unwarranted. Their archives boasted “Miami Herald (archives from 1982 - Current)”. The search page even let me specify the year.

  Several articles about smuggling appeared, but one caught my eye, so I got out my debit card and paid the $2.95 to see the full article.

  1437. Miami Herald - July 11, 1984 - 27A FRONT

  POLICE SEEK MAN IN SMUGGLING RELATED DEATH

  According to U.S. government sources, State and Federal Law Enforcement Officers have broken a profitable people-smuggling operation based in Miami that was illegally ferrying Cuban refugees to the United States. Authorities arrested seven people who are awaiting trial. Police are still seeking one man wanted in connection with the death of a smuggled Cuban national killed when smugglers and law officers exchanged gunshots during the arrest.

  Government sources say the network involved local sailors, Miami Cubans and some key contacts in Cuba who accepted bribes. Rafael Domingo, a deputy director of the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) in Miami, confirmed a well-organized group had been operating in the area for the last year and congratulated all of those involved in the arrest. He also expressed his sorrow about the loss of life. In a statement to the press, he said, “We congratulat
e the brave Law Enforcement Officers who have brought this case to completion and we will continue to track the killer until we bring him to justice.”

  Corky told me that when the police boarded the Leviathan, they were looking for the Skipper in connection with another case. This looked like it could be the other case. Reading the article made me realize I might have a way to identify the Skipper but I would have to see her Dad’s boat first.

  I printed out the article and phoned Ed. He was Zorky’s lawyer, his friend and he knew boats. I told him about the article and that I wanted to see the Leviathan.

  “What for?” He asked.

  “A handle on the Skipper. We know he’s connected with Ray and Horton and Corky but we don’t know who or where he is. But, he left his things behind when he ran and the ship went into storage right after he escaped. Maybe he left something we can use to identify him.”

  “Where’s the boat?”

  “Corky says it’s in an EFH warehouse in New Smyrna Beach.”

  “Still there, huh? I know where that is. I handled the property acquisition for Zorky. When do you want to do this?”

  “How soon can you get here?”

  “Let me make a call first… arrange access. Say… about an hour? Oh, and I’ve got that Police inventory list you wanted of Ray’s personal effects.”

  We disconnected. I took the print out of the Miami Herald article, folded it and put it in the envelope that held my photo ID from A. V. Designs. I was putting the envelope in my pocket when my cell phone rang. I looked at the display. It was Mariel.

  “Ahlo”, I said, using a goofy accent making the “lo” a ridiculously lower pitch than the “Ah”.

  She paused and then said “Ahlo”, mimicking my greeting, so I guessed she might have calmed down a bit.

  “How’s your sister?” I figured maybe if I ignored her leaving all upset about the break-in, she might too.

  “She’s good. Did they catch the bad guys yet?”

  Well, I thought, so much for that strategy. “No. Not yet, but I’ve got a plan.”

  I imagined her giving me that look; the one long-suffering wives give their husbands when she said. “I’m sure you do, but maybe you should leave this to the professionals. Maybe, you should come and stay here with us for a while.”

  “We’ve already discussed this. You know how I feel. Let’s not go over it again. Besides, calling the Police is part of my plan.”

  “It’s just that I love you and I worry about you.”

  “That’s the same reason I’m glad you’re there and why I’m staying here. We’ve got to bring this thing to an end as quickly as possible.”

  “You’re glad I’m here?”

  I was going to say, “Yes, you were right. It’s not safe here.” Then I realized doing so would only make her worry about me and upset her more. So, I lied and said, “I mean, I’m glad you’re there because, I love you and I know you’re more comfortable there.”

  “Oh. OK, but if you won’t come here, be careful. I worry about you.”

  “And me you.”

  “Well, Goodbye. I’ll tell my sister ‘Hello’ for you. Te amo.”

  “Te.”

  After hanging up the phone, I sat there a moment. Was Mariel right? Should I back off? I didn’t see how I could. Sometimes, you just have to see things through and this time was one of them.

  Rummaging through my desk, I located Detective Torres’ business card and gave him a call on his cell. I had lingering business and it was time to handle it.