Dave and Joe were sitting out on Kathy’s deck, enjoying a cool breeze off the river while they drank beer and waited for Kathy and her mother to come back with supper. Anna was catering dinner at Kathy’s. She had cooked at her apartment during the afternoon, while Dave had gone paint shopping with Kathy. Their plan was that Dave and Joe would get the kitchen ready for Donald to paint while Kathy took Anna back to town after supper.
"Mama was fit to be tied when she thought her evening with us was going to be put off because of Kathy's redecorating," Joe said. "Kathy offered to buy us all dinner somewhere, but she wouldn't hear of it. She meant to cook, 'cause she remembers how she used to like to watch you eat her pasta, but she couldn't fit us all in at her place."
Joe was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. After Kathy and Dave had reported Donald’s distress at seeing Ski Cat, Joe had called one of his cronies who was working this evening and asked if they had any information on a guy called "Ski Cat," who lived in apartment 143 at Yamacraw Village. It hadn’t taken very long for the system to divulge that "Ski Cat" would most likely be one John "Ski Cat" Wilson, current address unknown.
He was a small time bad guy with a number of encounters with law enforcement over the years, none serious enough to have earned him jail time. He looked to be an ordinary, ne’er-do-well street tough. He had been picked up for disorderly conduct, fighting, assault and battery, and aggravated assault, but his victims had all come from the same background as Ski Cat. None of them had been willing to press charges.
The guy had neither a record of bothering regular people, nor of any unprovoked crimes against persons or property. His older brother had been shot and killed in the act of robbing a liquor store a few years ago, and had a long list of arrests for similar crimes. He had not been convicted of any of them before his career had been cut short by the shopkeeper’s bullet.
Based on that, Joe thought maybe Ski Cat had just taken an afternoon off to go crabbing. No telling what he was looking at through the binoculars. Maybe he was a bird watcher, Joe thought with a sardonic chuckle to himself. He thought that after supper, though, he would take a look at unit 143 at Yamacraw Village. It was on his way home, and Donald’s accusation would not be the first casual comment that led to the discovery of a drug-dealing operation.
A little while after sunset, Ski Cat had decided Connie was not home. None of the lights in her place had come on and there had been no sign of life all afternoon. The folks at 2B, next door, had come out on the deck at about dusk and that was giving Ski Cat heartburn. 2B and 3A had adjoining decks. There was just some kind of low railing between them, maybe with a gate. Ski Cat couldn’t quite tell about that, but there was no way he could see to break into 3A while those folks were out on the deck next door. He would just have to wait.
He took the bateau and a couple of dozen nice, fat crabs to Leon’s. The crabs had come along with a vengeance at about dusk. On the way, he called his younger brother, Dopey, and told him to bring Ski Cat’s Lincoln Navigator out to Leon’s to pick him up. Leon steamed the crabs while they waited for Dopey. When Dopey got there, they picked crabs and drank some beer, fighting flies and mosquitoes the whole time.
Ski Cat thought it was time to let Dopey do a little work for a change. He’d just used him as an errand boy up until now, but Dopey was shaping up pretty well. He was "Dopey" because he always wore a stocking cap and his ears stuck out, like the cartoon dwarf, but he was actually pretty bright. As far as Ski Cat knew, Dopey was the first one in the family to finish high school.
Ski Cat’s mother said that Marcus, as she called Dopey, was going to college, but Dopey didn’t share her idea. He liked the money, cars, and women that his big brother had all the time. Ski Cat had watched Dopey carefully over the last year and had decided that Dopey was just as shiftless and sorry as the rest of the Wilson clan. Ski Cat thought that made him worthy enough so he put Dopey on his payroll.
They had finished the crabs, and Leon was plastered when Dopey and Ski Cat got in the Navigator and squished away through the marsh to the Tybee road. They turned west, back toward town, and crossed the Wilmington River.
Ski Cat gave Dopey directions to Connie's condo, and they found a spot where they could park and keep an eye on the party next door to 3A. By 10 o’clock, unit 2B was dark. They waited another 30 minutes to be safe, and then Ski Cat called Connie’s phone and got the recording. He set his cell phone to vibrate instead of ringing, and told Dopey to keep a sharp lookout and call him if anybody was coming.
Ski Cat stepped up to the front door of 3A and set the sharp end of his pry bar carefully against the trim molding on the doorjamb. He gave it one solid lick with the heel of his hand. His follow-through splintered the molding and weather-stripping, and drove the end of the bar into the space between the door and the frame, just above the deadbolt. So far, so good, he thought. Ski Cat hoped there was enough give in the doorframe so that he could pry it far enough from the door to clear the deadbolt. Otherwise, he would have to try a window, which was much riskier. He leaned against the pry bar with his 220 pounds of muscle, and the door swung open. He was in, and it had taken him no more than 10 seconds. He pushed the door closed behind him, thinking it wouldn’t have been any faster with a key.
Ski Cat took out a penlight and went to work. He got a pillowcase from the bedroom and filled it with Connie’s collection of DVDs from her entertainment center. He emptied all the wastebaskets into another pillowcase. He found a AAA guidebook to Florida on the desk in the den, with a bookmark in the page for Miami Beach. That went in with the DVDs, along with all the other papers on the desk.
Ski Cat put the pillowcases by the door and went over the apartment carefully, shielding the penlight, looking for a place where the woman could have hidden a DVD. Tony had specifically tasked Ski Cat with finding any hidden DVDs. He finished up in the kitchen, going through drawers, cabinets, the oven, and finally the refrigerator.
He found nothing of interest, except a magnetic business card stuck to the refrigerator. It was for some real estate lady named Kathy Owens. He took that, just in case it might mean something to Tony, and gathered up his pillowcases. Before he went out the door, he used his cell phone to call Dopey, so he practically stepped off the porch and into the Navigator. He was only exposed for a matter of seconds. Ski Cat called Fat Tony and arranged to meet him at the old stadium in Daffin Park to hand over what he had collected.
Day 9, Late night
Fat Tony watched as Ski Cat and his goofy looking sidekick drove away from the stadium in the Navigator. He shook his head, thinking he would be looking to replace Ski Cat pretty soon. Nice, inconspicuous car, that Lincoln Navigator. That was going to attract too much unwanted attention. What was wrong with these guys, anyway, Tony wondered.
Tony lit up a cigarette and pulled out of the park into the traffic on Victory Drive, headed toward the beach. Traffic was light, and in just a few minutes, he had crossed the Wilmington River Bridge. He accelerated to highway speed and in a few more minutes, he turned off the Tybee Road onto the dirt road to Sam's shrimp dock.
He saw a dim bulb come on across the way in Sam’s office. No doubt, Sam had turned off the lights at the sound of the approaching car, waiting until he recognized Tony's old Chevy in the glare from the security light on the corner of the main building. Tony took the pillowcases and the business card with him as he went in and sat down at the table with Sam and Jimmy.
They went through everything Ski Cat had taken from Connie’s condo, finding nothing to which they could attach any significance, with the possible exception of the AAA guidebook. Paging through the Miami Beach section, they found doodles by the Shelbourne Hotel. That was corroboration for their suspicions. They were puzzled about the local realtor’s business card, though. Maybe Connie was getting ready to sell her condo. It could be as simple as that.
They reviewed what they knew. Connie appeared to have left town, and all the clues pointed to Miami or Miami Beach. They co
uld wait until they could talk to the pilot at the air charter company, but by now that seemed like a waste of time. Sam was ready to buy into Jimmie's theory that she was at the Shelbourne.
The sooner they had someone keeping an eye on her, the sooner they would find her accomplices. Then they would be able to get themselves into a position to eliminate Connie as a threat.
They decided to get Ski Cat on the road. They could check out the realtor and this lawyer, Belk, while Ski Cat was looking for Connie. Jimmy was worried about whether Ski Cat could have missed Connie’s copy of the video, but Sam pointed out that Connie’s personal copy wasn’t the top priority.
They had to figure out her fail-safe plan. That was critical. Once they had that shut down, they could question Connie at their leisure and get her to tell them where the other copies of the video were.
They discussed what to do about Belk.
"Being a lawyer, Belk ain't gonna tell us anything and even if he did, it's guaranteed to be bullshit," Tony offered. "If we grab him and work him over and he don’t tell us anything, then we have to kill him anyway. Otherwise there's just too much risk somebody’ll figure out who got him."
Killing one lawyer didn’t really bother any of those three much, but the attention it attracted would be bad for business. They decided the first step in dealing with Belk would be for Jimmy and one of his "maintenance men" to slip into his office and check out his files. Maybe they could see what Connie had going with him.
"Tony, you see if you can find anything interesting on this real estate lady, just in case," Sam said. "Also, fill Ski Cat in on what we need, and get him on a plane to Miami. Tell him to take some help with him, so they can keep an eye on that broad, once they find her. Tell 'em not to mess with her -- just watch her and keep you posted. Once we got her pinned down, we can figure out the next step."
Joe Denardo was careless of his personal safety. He had not been afraid of another person since he was in first grade. Back then, a third grader, one of the thugs in his sister’s class, had decided he would share Joe’s lunch money. One of the strengths of the parochial schools, aside from their high academic standards, was that they attracted a true cross section of the community to the student body.
The school to which Joe and Kathy went had its fair share of kids from the wrong side of town. Joe had at first complained about the bully to one of the nuns. That resulted in a lecture for Joe’s tormentor and, later, a black eye for Joe. When he got home, he got sympathy from his mother and Kathy.
At supper, they had discussed it with Big Joe Denardo, the patriarch of the family and a police lieutenant. Big Joe listened carefully and quietly and said he would handle it. None of the family doubted that, and none of them asked any questions. It was that kind of family, and Lieutenant Denardo was the boss of the world, as far as his family was concerned.
That night Big Joe went into Joe’s room to tuck him in. He told Joe he would learn some important lessons in school, but not all of them would be at the hands of the nuns. They didn’t quite understand some things. One of those lessons was that sometimes a man had to fight his own battles. He asked Joe if the other boy was bigger than Joe and Joe affirmed that he was. He asked Joe if it was fair for a big kid to pick on him. Joe sure didn’t think so. He protested to his father that he couldn’t fight the other kid and win.
"Maybe in a fair fight, that’s so," Big Joe said, "But there ain’t no fair fights, ever. Only fights you win, and fights you lose. It's good that you tried to do it the right way at first, but when somebody hurts you or somebody you care about, it's up to you to deal with it if the right way doesn't work."
Joe nodded his understanding.
"You figure out how to get the drop on that boy, Joe -- just you -- no buddies, no nuns, no fair. Catch him and hurt him, bad. Don’t let go until one of you is dead or unconscious. Best if some of his friends are around to see him go down. If you're hurtin' him bad enough, they'll want no part of it. Won’t matter who wins, but you hurt him bad and he won’t mess with you anymore."
Big Joe had been right. Joe had sent the big kid to the hospital the next day at recess for stitches and a tetanus shot. Joe had to stay after school, and the Principal had called Big Joe to come get him. She told Big Joe what had happened, and he assured her that Joe wouldn’t do it again.
On the way home, Big Joe had said, "Proud of you, boy. Happens again, you’ll handle it."
"Yes sir, Papa." And it never crossed Joe’s mind to be afraid of anybody again, although this didn't always serve him well.
As Joe settled himself on the park bench across the street from unit 143 at Yamacraw Village, he wasn’t thinking about life lessons learned from his father. He had not even considered that he was doing anything risky. He just wanted to see what was going on with this Ski Cat character. Ski Cat, of course, wasn’t home. He was busy burglarizing Kathy’s next-door neighbor. The lookout on the corner spotted Joe and called Little Toby.
"Big white guy settin’ on the bench, watchin’ our place," he reported.
Little Toby hung up the phone without comment. He turned to Meatball, the fellow who had stepped into Little Toby’s old job of physical security. Little Toby and Meatball both wanted to make Ski Cat proud. Thus, Meatball slipped out the back window and walked around the block. He padded up behind Joe. Meatball wasn’t tall, and his breadth and shortness made him look fat. He wasn’t. He was graceful and quiet as he took the last step and swung the tube sock full of fishing sinkers against the side of Joe’s head. The transferred momentum stretched Joe out full length on the ground just as Ski Cat and Dopey drove up in the Navigator. Meatball walked around the bench as Ski Cat approached the immobile form of Sergeant Denardo.
"Who this is, Meatball?"
"Don’t know, Ski Cat. He watchin’ our place. Packin’, too. Look at that pistol."
Meatball pulled the wallet out of Joe’s pocket, and it fell open to his detective’s shield.
"Shit, Meatball. You done white-eyed a detective sergeant, right on my front steps. You dumb bastard. You and Little Toby together couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the directions was printed on the bottom. Damn!"
"He still breathin’," Meatball said.
"Hope he keep breathin’. You and Dopey go dump him in Wright Square. Maybe he forget what happen when he come to."
Jimmy and his helper had gotten into Jonas Belk’s office smoothly. It was in an older house that had been converted to rental office space. Belk had the front corner suite -- a reception area, an office, and a small law library that doubled as a conference room. There was no alarm system, and the lock had yielded readily to Jimmy’s skeleton key. They were both experienced at this, wearing surgical gloves and being careful. Belk would never suspect that anyone had been there. Jimmy looked around the office first, taking stock. The big, flat screen TV with an old videotape machine and a gleaming new DVD player right next to the well-stocked wet bar struck Jimmy as odd. So did the couch across from them. Except for the desk and file cabinets, it looked more like somebody’s den than an office.
Jimmy checked the video player, just in case. It was empty. They unlocked the file cabinets, and right there under Barrera, Connie, they found a file folder, one of the ones with a flap held closed by an elastic band. It was enticing, and Jimmy set it on the desk and opened it, fumbling in his excitement. There it was -- a DVD in a plain cardboard slipcase and a plain white sheet of paper with the name, address, and telephone numbers of an infamous investigative reporter. Jimmy decided the best thing to do was just to take the file. This was such an easy place to get into; he could replace it with no problem, if that was what Sam decided they should do. He snapped the elastic cord back into place and they checked carefully to remove all traces of their visit. They locked up and left.
Day 10, Morning
Ski Cat and Dopey had the first-class cabin of the Atlanta to Miami flight to themselves. The flight from Savannah to Atlanta had been crowded and they had been stuck in economy class
. Ski Cat had been in an aisle seat with Dopey wedged against a window. They were enjoying working the kinks out of their joints in the wide first-class seats of the Miami flight.
Ski Cat thought it was a good thing there were no other first-class passengers, because Dopey was making a fool of himself. He had never flown before, and he was acting like a three-year-old, jumping up and down and calling the stewardess and asking stupid questions. Ski Cat had never flown before either, but he was cool. Fortunately, the rest of the flight wasn’t too full either, so the stewardess who had first-class didn't have to help out in economy class. She had nothing to do except answer Dopey's endless questions.
She thought he was kind of cute, with those ears and all that enthusiasm, but she did wonder what he would look like without the stocking cap. When she looked at him she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. He looked like he had stepped right out of the Snow White cartoon. She knew that would probably hurt his feelings, so she kept the thought to herself. His seatmate, on the other hand, looked pretty scary. He was dressed like a pimp in a low-budget movie, with dreadlocks and lots of heavy, gold jewelry. She saw a faint family resemblance in their facial features, but she kept that observation to herself as well. Ski Cat’s countenance didn’t invite casual conversation. The little guy with the hat, though, he was a different story. She was sure his battery would run down before they got to Miami. His non-stop chatter had started when she answered his call right after takeoff.
"Can I go up front?" he had asked. "I want to see where the driver sets, when he steer this bad boy. I first-class…"
Deception in Savannah: A Humorous Novel of Murder, Mystery, Sex, and Drugs Page 13