Geezer Paradise

by Robert Gannon

"No riskier than trying to hide from Flaherty's murderous goons," Willey said. "That flash file would give us the hard evidence we need to be rid of Flaherty and his crew for good. How about we make a dry run? Just to see what the place looks like from the water. Maybe it'll be easier than you think." I just shook my head, no.

  "Okay," Willey said. "Snydely, if you'll just give me the combination to the safe I'll do it myself."

  Snydely opened his wallet and took out a slip of paper. He handed it to Willey and said, "Knock yourself out."

  "Wait a minute," I said to Willey. "You can't go in there alone. That would be crazy."

  "Somebody has to do it," Willey said. I sat quietly hoping Willey would give in. He was as stubborn as a mule. "It'll be a piece of cake," he said.

  "That's what you said about breaking into Flaherty's office, and look how that turned out."

  "So you guys did break-in there," Snydely said, smiling. "I knew you did."

  "We just had bad luck," Willey said. "That can't happen again."

  "Who says?" I asked.

  "I say so. Stop being such a wuss. Beside, we'd just be crashing a party. Nothing criminal."

  "I'd be more worried about Flaherty's goons than the police. You saw what they did to Freddy."

  "We have guns," Willey said. "Freddy didn't."

  Then Snydely went wobbly on me. "It would be nice to get my life back and not have to hide," he said.

  "Okay, Snydely," Willey said. "It'll be me and you. Forget about Barney. We'll do it ourselves."

  I looked at Snydely and hoped he would regain his senses. But instead he said, "Alright, Willey, let's do it. Only you'll have to get me a gun. I'm not going in there unless I can protect myself, and I'll need a really good disguise."

  "Fair enough," Willey said.

  I said, "Wait a minute, you can't take Snydely in there and put him in danger. We're being paid to protect him."

  "Don't worry," Willey said. "Eduardo will never know."

  "Fine, do what you want," I said. "I'm washing my hands of the whole mess."

  That afternoon I drove them to the swamp to rescue the raft. I had agreed

  to drive them around and drop them off at the Sunset Island Causeway. What

  happened to them after that wasn't my responsibility. After we retrieved the raft

  we stopped at a sporting goods store to buy the gas cylinders that inflate it. Then

  we were off to a clothing store to buy the black pants, white shirts, and black

  bow ties they needed for their Quixotic attack on Flaherty's house.

  We stopped at a gun shop and Willey bought a gun for Snydely, since

  Snydely was afraid to use his own name.

  I asked Willey, "What if Flaherty finds out you bought a gun? It will tell him what area we're in."

  "Flaherty isn't Superman." Willey said. "An area is a big place to look for somebody. Don't worry about it." Later we picked up hair dye for Willey. We were getting hungry so we stopped at a ribs joint for take-out. We went back to the safe house to watch TV. Willey spent the evening cutting his hair and beard, and dying them both brown. He looked ridiculous. Snydely had bought a pair of drugstore glasses and a fake mustache. He thought doing that and changing the way he combed his hair would disguise him. They would grab him the minute he set foot into Flaherty's house, and that would be the end of him. Tomorrow they would put everything on the line. It gave me heartburn just thinking about it--or was it the barbeque sauce?

  Chapter Eighteen

  IT WAS JUST getting dark when we turned onto the Sunset Island Causeway that connects the Island to the mainland. There was a small, sandy strip of beach on each side. It was an overcast night and there was nobody in site--just the occasional car going by. At least they had that going for them. Willey pulled the deflated raft out from behind the back seat of the Wrangler and pulled the cords to inflate it. The raft did its hissing dance on the beach. As usual, Oscar hid behind the Wrangler. When the raft was inflated we put it into the water.

  "Are you sure you won't change your mind and come with us?" Willey asked me.

  "I couldn't even if I wanted to," I said. "I don't have a caterer's uniform."

  "You could wait in the raft for us to come back," Willey suggested.

  "You won't be coming back," I said. "They'll grab Snydely the second he sets foot in that house. I could spot him a mile away."

  "Willey, you told me they wouldn't recognize me!" Snydely whined.

  I said, "Snydely, that's no disguise at all. You might as well put a napkin on your head. That would be a better disguise than what you've got."

  "Willey, you told me . . ." Snydely whined again.

  Willey scratched his head. "Maybe if we got a magic marker and drew some long sideburns on him . . ."

  Snydeley's mouth dropped open. "You're going to get me killed!" he screamed at Willey.

  "Maybe you're right, Barney," Willey said. That's not much of a disguise. You know, you and Snydely are just about the same size. You two could swap clothes and . . ."

  "No you don't. I'm not getting myself killed over a half witted scheme like this."

  "Alright," Willey said. "I'll do it alone. Snydely you can wait in the raft and Barney can stay here with Oscar until we get back. Let's go Snydely," Willey said as he got into the raft. Snydely got in and picked up a paddle. Damn, Willey is a pain in the ass sometimes, but I couldn't let him go alone and get killed. Together we might have a fighting chance.

  "Snydely," I said. "Give me your damn clothes." Ten minutes later Willey, Snydely, Oscar, and I were paddling our way across the Intracoastal toward Sunset Island. I was wearing the mustache, the drugstore glasses, and the waiter's uniform. Snydely was wearing my clothes.

  "Willey said, "You saw Snydely and me practicing how we were going to do it, Barney. Do you remember?"

  "Yes, I remember," I said. I didn't feel like talking. Snydely and Oscar were in the front of the raft. Willey and I were in the rear, paddling. I couldn't help staring at Willey with his trimmed hair and beard, both brown. He looked like a shady character in an old "B" movie. We paddled toward Sunset Island with Snydely giving us directions. When we got near Flaherty's place we could see the lights and hear the music. It was fully dark and the party was in full swing. There was a long dock coming from Flaherty's beachfront that extended out to the middle of the Intracoastal. The Intracoastals run between the mainland and the barrier islands. They're shallow, just a few feet deep. Larger boats with a deeper draft have to stay out in the dredged channel that runs down the middle. We tied up the raft under the dock. and sloshed ashore.

  "We'll be back in about twenty minutes," Willey told Snydely. I hoped he was right. Willey and I got into the deep shadow of the wall that enclosed the property. We stayed in the shadows as we moved closer to the rear of the house. It was an enormous salmon colored stucco mansion with beautifully manicured lawns, and gardens. There, behind the house, was the caterer's truck just as Snydely had predicted. There was a stream of waiters and waitresses taking trays from the back of the truck and carrying them into the kitchen.

  We waited until the flow slowed to just a few. "Now," Willey said. Willey and I came out of the shadows and got in line. We were handed trays. Willey had small sandwiches, I had glasses of white wine. We followed those in front of us. We entered into the back of the house through an oversized kitchen with enough equipment to cook for a major restaurant. From there we climbed a flight of stairs to what could only be described as a ballroom. The Flahertys lived large.

  Out we went onto the ballroom floor. Here and there people stopped us to raid our trays. It was working, we looked like we belonged there--until Stevens stopped me for a glass of wine. He was already half in the bag, but he gave me a second look. I moved away quickly. I looked around for Flaherty and spotted him in a corner with Senator Buckland. I gave them plenty of room. When our trays were empty we headed back to the stairs leading down to the kitchen. Only this time we went upstairs to the second floor
. We stopped at the top of the stairs and looked for the master bedroom. Snydely had said there was a small gilded table next to the bedroom door. It was straight ahead. We put our trays on the floor and pulled on our rubber gloves. We held our breath as we turned the knob. For all we knew we might come face to face with someone. Thankfully the large bedroom was empty, but all the lights were on. No conservation here. We scanned the walls for a portrait of Mrs. Flaherty.

  "There it is," Willey said, pointing. We went over to it. I gently pulled at the left side of the frame and it swung out on hinges. There in the wall was the safe. Willey had our moves planned out. Willey pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and started to read the combination to me. I did as he said, but when we finished the safe refused to open. I started to sweat even though the house was air conditioned.

  I spun the dial. "Read it again," I said. We went through the process again, and this time the safe door swung open. I reached in. There, under some papers, I found the small, black flash drive.

  Just then the bedroom door flew open and Mrs. Flaherty came rushing in. We froze, not moving a muscle. She was in such a rush she didn't even see us. We were barely breathing. She rushed to a dresser and opened a jewelry box. She took out a necklace and put it on. Then she rushed back out the door, slamming it behind her. My heart was pounding.

  "I don't think she saw us," I said.

  "No," Willey agreed. "She would have screamed."

  Willey took a plastic sandwich bag out of his pocket and held it open. I carefully dropped the flash drive into it. Then Willey put the bag into his pocket, while I closed the safe door and spun the dial. I gently swung the portrait back into place, and we headed for the door. Willey opened the door and said, "All clear." We picked up our serving trays from the floor, and we were halfway down the stairs when I said, "The gloves!" We quickly pulled them off our hands and stuffed them into our pockets. We were passing the ballroom door when we heard laughing coming from inside. Out of curiosity we looked inside. We lost our breath when we saw what they were laughing at. Oscar was standing on a table that held a champagne fountain. He had a wine glass in his hand and was holding it under a stream of the golden liquid. Then he downed it. The crowd loved it. They thought Oscar was part of the entertainment. Then Oscar refilled his glass and did it again.

  "Willey," I said. Find the circuit breaker and shut off the electricity." Willey practically flew down the stairs.

  Mrs. Flaherty kept saying, "Who brought that animal in here?" I went into the ballroom and moved in close to the table Oscar was standing on. I put my tray on the table and tried to catch Oscar's eye, but he was too far gone and having too good a time showing off to notice me. It seemed like forever before the room went dark. I rushed forward and grabbed Oscar. He spilled his champagne down my neck. I headed for the nearest door with Oscar in my arms. I went through the door and found myself outside. Oscar was chirping.

  "Shut up," I said. When we got back to the raft, Willey was giving Snydely hell for not watching Oscar.

  "There was nothing I could do," Snydely whined. "One minute he was here and the next, he was halfway to the house." We jumped into the raft, grabbed the paddles and took refuge in the darkness of the Florida night.

  As we paddled Willey said, "I told you we could do it, Barney."

  "We got lucky," I said.

  On the way back to the safe-house we stopped at an office supply store to pick up some padded envelopes. Then we stopped at a package store. When we got back to the house we put Oscar to bed. Willey and I put on our rubber gloves again, and I went to work hand printing the note:

  Dear Attorney General,

  Enclosed please find one plastic bag containing a flash drive. Please handle the flash drive carefully, as it has the fingerprints of Mr. John Flaherty on it, the owner of the Flaherty Construction Company.

  The enclosed flash drive contains the true records of Flaherty Construction's accounts, as recorded by Mister Flaherty himself. If you study the accounts you will see they have no similarity to the set of books he keeps on record.

  Sincerely,

  A concerned citizen

  Willey opened the package and pulled one envelope out. He held it open and I dropped the flash drive into it. Then I carefully folded the note and put it in with the flash drive. Willey pulled the covering strip off the pre-glued tab and sealed the envelope. We put just a little more than enough stamps on it, and I hand lettered the name and the address of the Attorney General's office in Tallahassee on the front of the envelope, and printed PERSONAL at the bottom. We dropped the envelope into a paper bag and we were ready to go.

  "We can't mail it from here," I said. "The postmark would give our location away. In the morning we'll drive about forty miles north and find a mailbox. Until then the envelope stays in this paper bag. That way we don't put our finger prints on it." We retired to the front porch to drink beer and relax. Snydely drank a certain brand of Bordeaux wine. We couldn't turn on the overhead porch light without being seen from the road, so we turned on a lamp in front of a window inside the house. It threw just enough light through the window from behind us. We could see, but from the road we were just dark shadows.

  "So, do you think the Attorney General will take it seriously?" Snydely asked.

  Willey said, "According to Eduardo, the Attorney General is on a jihad to find the person who killed his father, and it makes sense it was Flaherty." I couldn't help it, I sank a little deeper into my soft chair when he said that.

  "Flaherty is tied to it two ways," Willey said. "First, the Attorney General was investigating Flaherty at the time of the murder. And second, it was also a warning to the bookkeeper Flaherty tried to kill, who was also in that nursing home."

  Snydely was starting to mellow out from the wine. "Flaherty is the only person with a motive to kill the Attorney General's father," he said. "It has to be him. I think the Attorney General will latch onto this. The information we're sending him is so detailed it has to be authentic. It's sure to have Flaherty's finger prints on it. That ties him to the accounts. It's enough to nail the bastard."

  Just then Willey's phone rang. Willey looked at the small screen. "It's Eduardo," he said and clicked the phone on.

  "Hi, Eduardo, how are you?" Willey asked. Then he went silent while Eduardo talked. After a minute Willey said, "Hold on and I'll ask him."

  "Barney, Eduardo wants to know if we'll take Snydely to Miami tomorrow for a deposition. He says it includes mileage and expenses."

  I thought it might be fun to spend a day in Miami. "Sure, I'll go."

  "We're in, Eduardo," Willey said. "When and where?" Willey wrote down the information and then said. "We'll call you when we get there tomorrow. Talk to you then, bye." Willey put the phone back into his shirt pocket. "Now we won't have to go forty miles north tomorrow to mail the flash drive. We can mail it on the way to Miami." We both looked at Snydely--he didn't look well."

  "Are you okay, Snydely?" I asked.

  "Would you be okay if you were going to testify against Flaherty, and Buckland, and their goons?" he asked.

  "No," Willey said. "I guess not. But Barney and I will be right there with you all the way." Snydely seemed to look even worse. I guess he didn't have much faith in us.

  ****

  The morning after the party John Flaherty stood in front of his open wall safe. Where was it? It had to be there! He emptied the contents of the safe onto the floor. The flash drive was gone. In the wrong hands that flash drive could send him to jail for a long time.

  Flaherty's stomach grew queasy. His hands started to tremble. It couldn't be missing. He was the only one who knew the combination to the safe. Not even his wife knew the combination. Nobody . . . wait, Snydely had possession of the combination when they changed the dial. Yes, he remembered clearly now. He remembered Snydely coming into his office and handing him the new combination on a sheet of paper. Snydely, that bastard! Snydely was going to turn him over to the feds in return for amnesty. Flaher
ty ran to the phone to call Stevens.

  ****

  Chapter Nineteen

  WE GOT UP late the next morning due to drinking the night before. Snydely looked worse than all of us except for Oscar, and he deserved to have a hangover after the way be behaved at Flaherty's party the night before. We grabbed some coffee and doughnuts for breakfast, milk and a muffin for Oscar, and after that we stopped at a department store. The weather was too warm to wear jackets, so Willey, Snydely, and I bought cargo shorts with large pockets so we could carry our guns unnoticed. Then we stopped for a case of twelve ounce bottles of spring water for the long, hot, drive from coast to coast. We headed south down through the peninsula, through St. Petersburg to Tampa Bay.

  The usual afternoon thunder storm was about to break loose as we drove up onto the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. We looked down to the right to see the remaining length of the original bay bridge that had its middle section removed when the Skyway Bridge was built. On the opposite side of the Bay there's another length remaining of the old bridge that also juts out into the Bay from the mainland. The remains of the old bridges are called fishing piers now, with a few shops on them for the tourists.

  The Bay was the color of lead as the thunder and lightning started. The rain beat down on the Wrangler's soft top. We came down on the other side of the bridge and continued south toward Bradenton and Sarasota. We went across Charlotte Harbor, down through Punta Gorda, Fort Meyers, and Bonita Springs. Finally we arrived in the beautiful but snobby city of Naples, where it's rumored the inhabitants can spot an interloper simply by the shade of pastels they wear. Naples appeared to be mile after mile of gated communities. Finally we reached a business area.

  It was nearing five o'clock when we got there and we were all starving. I parked my ratty, dust covered old Wrangler at a meter between a shiny Mercedes and a glowing Bentley. We dropped a few quarters into the meter and headed for the Ponce De Leon Pub across the street. I had the envelope for the Attorney General with me in the paper bag. I stopped at a mailbox and dropped the envelope into it, straight from then bag, no finger prints. It was a hot day, but since we had Oscar with us we sat at an outdoor table under an umbrella. Oscar got a few stares.