At Whitland’s instruction Charlie kicked off the case update meeting by outlining their movements during the past week, suggesting that although they now seemed to be on top of the Mexican and Californian parts of their investigation, several loose ends remained still. She directed Whitland’s attention to the map.
“Red pins show where birds are either being held or may be held, places we’ll probably raid, including Big Experience sites in California and upstate Florida, plus Cordero’s place in Mexico. I’m still tracking down a quarantine site near Miami, and I’ll come back to the two pins in Europe in a moment.”
She paused to ensure she had Whitland’s attention.
“Green pins show people we’re working with, including Steve McGill in Miami, Ed Kimberley in Tallahassee, Mindy Goldsmith and Deming Akroyd in California, plus of course Zip McGee in Mexico.”
“How is Zip?” Whitland wondered. “Still away with the fairies?”
Charlie glanced across at Royle. “He seemed fine to me.”
Whitland aimed a finger at his wall map. “What’s the pin near here?”
“That’s Sharon Morgan and her man Greg Saunders. We’re not saying they are involved, but neither can we dismiss them.”
Whitland was clearly taking all this in. “That still leaves the Miami pin.”
“That’s the dead Jimmy Quigly; Phil will get to him shortly. Before that, though, the two heavies at Cordero’s are Columbian nationals, both known to our Drug Enforcement Agency.”
“Something Charlie forgot to mention,” Royle interrupted. “She obtained more info on our man Van Wynn, AKA Mick White. He’s the Big Experience guy who went to see the old American Indian out in the swamp, and was also on Mindy’s telephone recording. Apparently Big Experience is Belgian-based, dealing in wildlife from around the world, though any shipping seems to be done via a company in Germany. They’re the two European pins.”
Quickly, Royle then summarised Saturday’s events in Miami, including their discovery of a map connecting Quigly with the site of Dan’s death. “So, the questions arising from that are: who killed Quigly? Did they also kill Dan? And what exactly is behind all this?”
Aware they were taking up Whitland’s valuable time, Charlie suggested Royle condense the details of Quigly’s egg collection down to a few brief sentences. And they were surprised by their boss’s reaction.
“Why are we bothering with birds’ eggs?”
Royle smiled as he directed Whitland’s attention to a lonely red pin, way over in the bottom right-hand corner of the wall map, near Australia’s northern tip. “We’re bothering with Quigly’s egg collection because of that.”
Now it was Whitland’s turn to smile. “You did get somewhere with the Australian connection, then?”
“It’s back to this Toombs person. Someone of that name took eggs Quigly had in his collection. I believe those eggs got to Quigly via the California Big Experience site.”
“Bit of a long shot?”
“Not really. Dan went on about Australia in his notes, so I had a talk with my contact out there. Some Aussie bird dealer separated from his wife and now she’s spilling the beans to customs.”
“Angie Watts?” Whitland asked.
“Who the hell is this Angie Watts?” Charlie exploded.
“She’s Controller of Customs in Sydney; and it gets better. The dealer’s wife says he annually ships trapped parrots to Europe, along with eggs for hatching.”
Whitland leaned forward in his chair. “Where’s all this heading, then?”
“Charlie and I discussed that. Realistically we have two inquiries on the go, one into Dan’s murder, the other involving wildlife smuggling, though they’re probably the same investigation. The wildlife side is on a roll; we’ve proved connections with California, Mexico, UK, Belgium and Germany, and now Australia.”
Whitland held his arms out wide, hands open, palms towards them. “And now we’re planning to do what, exactly?”
“Easy,” Charlie responded, aware things were getting a bit tense. “We’re not just trying to find out who killed Dan, and now Quigly. We need to prove why they did that. And it increasingly looks as if the ‘why’ bit has something to do with parrot smuggling. So, in the absence of anything more to go on, our best chance of finding Dan’s killer is to follow up the smuggling side.”
* * *
Whitland leaned back in his chair. From Royle he was getting no more than he expected, given the man’s experience level. What impressed him was Charlie, who in what seemed like no time appeared to have blossomed into a fully functioning criminal investigator.
From where Whitland was sitting, and from whichever way he looked at this, he was getting value for money. Not only did the pair seem well on their way towards catching the person, or persons, responsible for the death of his agent, they were also deeply involved in something showing all the hallmarks of a major international smuggling operation. And if he could trust Royle’s judgment then they might be about to unearth a major weakness from within the belly of the Licensing Department.
Realising there were still a few details to discuss, Whitland called a break so he could respond to an urgent telephone message Paula had taken. “Back here in ten,” he announced.
* * *
Whitland’s break lasted twenty minutes, and when they did sit back down he obviously had bad news.
“Phillip, how did you return your rental car?”
Royle sensed there was more to Whitland’s question than just the obvious. “The hire company collected it from outside Dan’s apartment, sometime overnight. They drove someone over to collect it. I’m now officially using Dan’s department vehicle.”
“Local police have been in touch,” their boss continued, opening his newspaper and hovering a finger over one of several pictures accompanying last night’s shooting story. “Apparently that’s your rental Chevy, with nice new ventilation holes.”
Royle was trying not to arrive at the obvious conclusion. “Are we suggesting someone thought that was me they were shooting?”
“Difficult us thinking otherwise,” Whitland finally responded. “It’s the shot woman in the second vehicle who really interests me, the one who brought out the other rental driver.” Whitland held up a family picture the press had obtained. “Looks a lot like Charlie here.”
“Wow, this is getting creepy,” she interrupted. “You’re saying someone shot the rental driver, assuming it was Phil. And then shot the second driver, the girl, assuming she was me?”
“Where did this happen?” Royle asked.
“Traffic signals a mile or so from Dan’s place.”
There was silence for a moment before Royle responded. “This can only be related to Dan’s death; there is no other sensible explanation. What I can’t remember is whether I told Sharon I was staying at Dan’s place.”
Whitland was frowning. “Your point being?”
“Nothing solid. Just that Sharon’s man Greg was in a position to know my flight details into Miami. Plus, she may be the only person outside this office who knew I was using Dan’s place. Bit of a coincidence?”
“Greg works in a ticket office.”
“That’s just the point. Charlie did some research; Greg doesn’t issue tickets, he’s the IT manager, he has access to everything. On that basis alone he needs watching.”
“You alright carrying on with this investigation?” Whitland enquired.
“I’m good, Doug, though we need to think about security.”
“Charlie?”
“If Phil is then so am I. Seems to me the questions are the same as before. Who and why? Though whoever they are, they seem pretty determined.”
“So, I repeat, are you two happy continuing with this?”
“Charlie and I can look after ourselves. There’s only one thing concerns me and that’s my daught
er. Sam’s safe out at the ranch, but I don’t like the idea of her travelling to and from college on her own. Someone out there needs to drive her until this is over. Someone who can use a gun.”
“Where exactly in Australia is this bird smuggling happening?” Whitland enquired once they were settled again.
“Around Cairns, up in the tropical northeast. The question is how do the birds and the eggs get out of that country.”
“Do we know which airports are involved?”
“Aussie customs has an ongoing problem with literally hundreds of small airstrips, plus numerous places where you can get quite large boats into remote river mouths.”
“Suppose you do track down these people, what then?”
Royle realised this was a crucial question. “We let them get on with moving the birds. Biologists, like those at the UK’s British Trust for Ornithology, are fitting micro satellite technology to birds and all manner of other creatures worldwide, mostly aimed at proving where they go to, or come from – exactly what we need to know about smuggled wildlife.”
“Have we looked at any of this?”
“We have, Doug. Some even call our mobiles.”
Royle was beginning to sense they might just have their boss hooked. “Our main difficulty, though, will be getting access to the birds, or even the crates.”
Whitland was quiet for some seconds. “Don’t you lose the connection while they’re on the plane?”
Royle seemed uncharacteristically smug. “That’s the clever bit. Modern long-haul aircraft are fitted with loads of censors, constantly checking information – tyre pressures, fuel loads, all the stuff airlines need to know back on the ground.”
“How does that help?”
Royle grinned. “On-board receivers pass on all these signals, without differentiating between airline transmissions and any others. Ours simply get piggy-backed out along with the rest.”
Whitland continued tidying his desk. “What you two are after, then, is my approval to go wandering off around the world, in the hope you can catch these people red-handed.”
Royle flashed a brief glance at Charlie. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that. We’re trying to prove that seriously organised gangs are plundering some of the world’s rarest wildlife resources, so they can sell the birds involved for considerable financial reward. And let’s not forget Dan’s murder.”
Whitland smiled. “Never doubted you, Phillip, but I had to ask. Let’s do it.”
“Charlie and I already talked it through. We think it might help, us stopping off in Washington and making sure the big guns are briefed.”
“Washington’s a sensible move. What’s the timescale?”
“We need to finish off here. Perhaps fly to Washington in two or three days’ time.”
“Which way from there?”
“To Sydney, but via London. I need to catch up with what’s going on in my own office.”
A short while later, back in their own office, Royle noticed Charlie checking her voicemail and returning a call. She spent some minutes talking before replacing the receiver.
“Customs just came up with an address for Big Experience’s quarantine site, out in the Everglades.”
“Any recent arrivals?”
She read from a text message. “Last one two weeks ago. Five African buffalo, via a shipping company called Bundes Groß Animalisch International. In a place called Munster?”
Royle was accustomed to an ongoing level of American confusion regarding European geography. “Northern Germany, up near the Dutch border,” he explained. “Probably why someone thought there was a Dutch connection.”
Royle popped out to fetch two iced Cokes from the corridor machine, handing one to Charlie before sitting back at Dan’s desk, thinking through their immediate plans. Top of the list was a visit to Ed Kimberley up in Tallahassee, to discuss the availability of keys for Big Experience’s cat pens. Charlie then surprised him by suggesting they stop over in Tallahassee so he could meet her parents. However, before he could respond, the door opened to reveal Licensing Head Gus Winnings.
He advanced towards them. “Phillip Royle, and the lovely Charlie Lacey.” He held out his hand, which was still as cold and unwelcoming as Royle remembered.
“So, this is where you came to rest after deserting us,” Winnings exclaimed, addressing himself to Charlie.
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned his attention to Royle. “Heard about poor old Dan; be sure to catch the people responsible for his death. Been having a meeting with my Licensing staff. You take care now.”
And with that Winnings was gone and the pair had the office to themselves again.
“Did he really just call you the lovely Charlie Lacey?” Royle queried, noting his partner’s red face.
But he realised something far more significant may just have emerged from their brief unwelcome encounter with the Florida Licensing boss.
“Just how,” he asked, “do you suppose Winnings knew someone might be responsible for Dan’s death? And that it was not some awful accident?”
Then, leaving his partner to consider her response, he popped along the corridor for a word with Paula regarding the next day’s visit to Ed Kimberley. He also mentioned they might stay overnight with Charlie’s parents.
The secretary tugged his sleeve as he turned to leave. “Did she say anything about her family?”
“Only that her father runs some law company. Why?”
“I just wondered,” the secretary responded as the door closed behind him.
Ten
Up in Tallahassee it was raining as the pair headed for the Capitol building. Ed Kimberley seemed pleased to see them, showing them around on their way up to his third-floor office. Once there he was keen to hear how their investigation into Dan’s death was progressing, and Royle explained the police discovery of the hand-drawn map in Quigly’s car.
“What’s been puzzling us,” Charlie explained, “is how Dan’s body got past the various locked ranch gates, alive or dead. What’s the situation with keys?”
“Various ranch staff have one, plus there’s an emergency key at selected locations. Just in case.”
“Such as where?”
“Sheriff’s Office and I both have one, plus there’s one downstairs here.”
“You say one. It’s the same key for all gates, then?”
Ed nodded. “Better than wasting time trying several keys, while someone’s being attacked.”
“Where exactly is the key downstairs?” Royle enquired.
Ed indicated they should follow as he headed back downstairs to the reception area, where he took them behind the glass security window. He indicated a keyboard on the wall inside reception, carefully positioned so whoever was on duty could both accept and hand out keys.
“Key at the top left’s the one. Where it says Emergency Big Experience.”
Charlie still had questions. “Who has access to that key, or even all those keys?”
“People come to the window and the duty officer either issues the keys or takes them back.”
“Who has authority for the Big Experience key?”
Judging from Ed’s face it seemed she had raised an interesting point.
“Not sure there is a set procedure. By the very nature of things, it’s likely to involve an emergency.”
“We’re not sure who might get the key, then,” Royle summarised, before going outside the reception window to where he could reach through and remove the Big Experience key. “Easy once you know where,” he suggested. “You just need to make sure Security’s not looking.”
Ed took the key from him, examining it without saying anything. Next, he extracted a bunch of keys from his pocket, choosing one and holding it up for comparison with the key Royle had just removed. They could all see they were different.
“Do we take it that the one on your ring is a genuine Big Experience key, but you have no idea what that other key is hanging up there on the hook?” Charlie suggested.
“That about does it,” the state man admitted.
She was searching her bag now, before holding up a bunch of keys and comparing one with Ed’s known Big Experience key. This time the two were identical.
“These were on Quigly’s body in Miami Bay last week.”
The man seemed genuinely shocked. “Looks like some son of a bitch put one over on us. And we have no idea who or when.”
“That’s not entirely true, Ed. We can be pretty sure it was before Dan’s death. Charlie and I also have an idea who, though this might not be the time to go into that.”
Charlie then went to wash up before they left, and Ed turned to Royle.
“You two work well together. Is it just work, then, or does it go further?”
Royle’s initial reaction was to suggest Ed mind his own damned business, but he’d quite taken to the older man. “It’s work, Ed, we’re not a couple,” he responded, smiling politely and watching the older man process the information.
“It’s just a thought, then, but women like that don’t come along too often. Mind someone doesn’t beat you to it.”
* * *
Had he been asked, Royle might have suggested he knew his partner well enough by now to have formed a more than vague idea about her family background. Apart from the expensive education, there were the fashionable clothes, top-of-the-range car and Cartier wristwatch. Plus what he had managed to glean from the family photographs. Therefore, he was in little doubt she came from a comfortable background, where standards obviously mattered and where money, or the lack of it, was not a controlling factor.
Nevertheless, he was surprised by his initial view of the Lacey residence. Located in a quiet, tree-lined avenue in one of Tallahassee’s more mature suburbs north of the city centre, it obviously dated from before the Civil War, or what was still sometimes referred to thereabouts as the ‘War of Northern Aggression’. Back in the UK the property would have been described as an ‘extremely desirable and spacious, character period residence’.
The Consequences of Finding Daniel Morgan Page 11