“My family is in witness protection. Marco found out.”
“Witness protection?” Maggie lowered her voice. “But your dad is rich, how does he stay hidden? I thought witness protection meant low-profile jobs. How did your dad land a big-time dealership?”
“My father is a financial wizard,” Doc explained, “but he took a job as a car salesman when we were relocated. He just couldn’t help himself moving through the ranks…until one day he owned the place. He doesn’t advertise, and everything is done through my mother’s name.”
“Which is obviously not her real name,” Maggie said, “or yours. What is your real name?”
“Arthur, or Artie as my mother used to call me,” Doc said.
“I got to tell you, you do look more like an Arthur then a Frank,” Maggie said. “Are you even Jewish?”
“Yes, we are Jewish,” Doc said. “You don’t have to change religions in witness protection; but we don’t ever enter a synagogue, just in case.”
“So, who are you hiding from?”
“My father was the controller for an investment company in Chicago that specialized in getting people to invest in oil drilling in Texas. It was a big scandal called Texas Tea.”
Maggie smacked her lips. “I’ve heard of that.”
“That’s the problem, everyone’s heard of it—and a lot of people had their life savings invested in it. The land where all this oil was supposed to be was just an illusion, it basically didn’t exist…the company collected billions without even attempting to drill. The main players have ties to influential families in Chicago. My father was threatened with his life to cover up the scheme, but he kept copies of shadow books as insurance.”
Maggie’s eyes opened wide. “Your dad’s a rat?”
“My father would never have ratted, but my mother’s brother disappeared…only to be found hanging in his apartment several weeks later, an apparent suicide.” Doc shook his head firmly. “It wasn’t a suicide. It was a professional hit…My father received a message that my mother was next. It was pretty easy to disappear, because my mother’s parents were both dead and my father grew up in foster care.”
Maggie thought for a moment. “Marco found out about all this?”
Doc nodded. “I gave him enough information that he was able to put it all together.”
“Because you told him kind of like your telling me,” Maggie said, wishing she didn’t know any of this. She suddenly felt exposed.
“He was my friend,” Doc said.
“Did he tell anyone?”
“No, that’s the thing. He wanted to borrow ten thousand dollars. He called it a loan…but it wasn’t a loan. He told me that it was security. I have to tell you, I sobered up real fast, remembering being an eight-year-old kid when the Feds stormed into our home in the middle of the night. I remember clinging to my mother’s leg, agents in full swat gear combing through the house, carrying box after box from my father’s office while my father was led out, still in his pajamas, disappearing into the back of a black sedan. The next morning another sedan showed up in front of our home to take my mother and I to a building in downtown Chicago. We waited in a cold room until my father walked in the door. He ran over to my mother, and they embraced. It was weird because they never showed affection in front of me.”
Maggie shook her head in disbelief. “Wow, Doc,” she said. “That’s crazy…I feel bad for you.”
“Don’t feel bad, I had a great childhood. I didn’t mind trading the snow in Chicago for the beaches in Florida. I barely remember my life as Artie Gabelli.”
“Did you give the money to Marco?”
“Yeah.” Doc frowned. “But I had to tell my dad because I didn’t have that much cash.”
“What did your dad say?”
“He was furious. I think he might have killed him—or hired someone to.”
“Who?” Maggie was shocked. “Your dad?”
Doc nodded. “The day before Marco died, my father met me here and gave me the envelope full of cash. I had never seen him so distraught. He even took my car and left me the one I’m driving tonight.”
“Why did he take your car?”
Doc shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“When did this all happen?” Maggie asked.
Again Doc said, “The day before Marco died.”
“Did you have a gate-barcoded sticker on your car?”
“Yeah,” Doc said. “Why?”
Maggie couldn’t wait to look at the list Rodney had given her earlier. If Doc’s car came through the gates that night, it was Doc’s father who killed Marco. She laughed. Was solving crimes this easy?
“I don’t know.” She quickly turned to the next question. “When did you give Marco the money?”
“I headed to O’Malley’s as soon as my father gave me the money,” Doc said. “Marco and I were supposed to meet there. He wasn’t there, but I saw his sister Angie sitting by herself at one of the high-tops near the dart boards. So I sat with her.”
“You know Angie?” Maggie asked.
“I wish I knew her better.” He shook his head, his eyes seeming to lose focus. “She’s beautiful, with that long black hair…it was hanging loose that night. I asked her where her brother was—and she said, ‘Hopefully in hell.’ So, then I asked her out. I had tickets to a concert at the Kravis Center. Angie said she would go—but by then Marco was standing behind me…I hadn’t seen him come in, I guess. ‘Oh, hell no,’ Marco said. He sat down in the seat between Angie and I. Then they started arguing like I wasn’t even there. Angie said she could go out with whoever she wanted—and Marco said, ‘Not with this loser.’ I finally said, ‘Hey, Marco, what the…’ He pushed me and said, ‘Shut up, Arthur!”
“What did you do then?” Maggie asked.
“I just gave him the envelope and left. People were watching the whole thing and I just wanted to go home.”
Maggie stared at Doc uncertainly. “You went home?”
Doc nodded. “I wanted to. But I sat in my car for a few minutes to calm down; then I called my dad and told him the whole thing.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he would take care of it.”
“You think, he took care of it, literally?”
“My dad just said to stay away from him. Then he asked me to add Aardvark Pest Control on my permanent access list. I think he was going to have someone search Marco’s house for any info he might have that could expose our family.”
“Do you think he would really expose you?”
“I don’t, but he needed money,” Doc explained. “He wasn’t going to stop.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I don’t know.” Doc almost started to cry. “I don’t know what to do, I had to get it off my chest….”
Maggie sat silently for a minute, confused. What should she do with all the information she just heard? She couldn’t help feeling exposed herself….
She looked around, wondering if she was in danger. If Doc were to tell his father that he told her everything, and if Doc’s father did kill Marco, was she now in danger? The whole thing suddenly became real.
Maggie excused herself to use the restroom. As she walked away from the bar she noticed Stormy once again approaching Doc. Instead of going back to the bar, Maggie did the old Irish exit for the second time that evening. She went out the front door, clicked on Uber, and in fewer than five minutes was heading east on Palmetto Parkway.
Chapter 9
Captain and Coke
Most nights Maggie preferred O’Malley’s to the club. It was a place where you could relax in shorts and T-shirts…where you could have a pretty decent meal without enduring the club’s restrictive 1950s rules regarding semiformal dinner attire including long pants and collared shirts, even in the hottest time of year.
The Wednesday night wings special and the dart league had filled O’Malley’s to the brink. The Banyan gang regulars were out in full force: they took up most
of the back bar, likely gathering there to share the gossip swirling around Marco’s death.
It seemed as though everyone could recall some transgression of Marco’s—and who he transgressed against. Maggie held her phone as if she were texting but in actuality she was taking notes on some of the relevant information. She was a little surprised to learn how much Marco was actually disliked. All her interactions with him had been positive—except, of course, that she too had been taken in by his money schemes. Every time he came around, he had always been the first one to buy a round of drinks or contribute to the latest fundraiser. Maggie was sure there had been some catastrophic event that turned Marco bitter. In any case, where was all the money going…?
“I find it odd that the Boca Boozers are just playing like nothing happened,” Alex said. The members of Marco’s former dart team were all laughing, having a great time, as though nothing ever had happened. The truth was one of their players had been murdered only a week ago.
“It’s like nobody is really upset,” Maggie said.
“Including his sister, apparently,” Britney said.
Britney pointed to Angie, who was walking toward the entrance. The three girls waved to her then moved their empty glasses out of the way so she would have a place to sit.
Angie was dressed in a short jean skirt, white T-shirt, and cowboy boots. Her long black hair fell almost to her waist, but tonight it was in a thick solid braid that hung at the back of her head like a horsetail. Angie was a very pretty girl…whenever she came into the club or O’Malley’s, heads turned. The combination of the black hair and her light green eyes mesmerized any mortal, male or female.
Rodney noticed that Angie had walked in. As soon as she was close enough, he reached out and grabbed her arm. She quickly turned on her heel and pulled back a balled fist, assuming a defensive position. The next moment she saw who had grabbed her, and she took a long relaxed breath. She let Rodney awkwardly hug her before she quickly pulled away and made her way to the back of the bar.
“Hey, Angie, sorry about your brother,” Billy, the manager, said as she walked past.
“Yeah, thanks,” Angie said. The Boozers’ table stood next to the big group table. She took her purse from her shoulder and hung it over the back of a chair.
“What can I get you?” Billy asked.
“A different fucking life,” Angie replied. “But I’ll settle for a Captain and Coke.”
“You got it, beautiful.”
The manager walked away, throwing a bar towel over his shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Preston, a team member of the Boozers, asked as soon as Billy had gone.
“The better question is, what the hell are you doing here?” Then Angie noticed the three brightly colored darts in Preston’s hand. “Are you seriously taking my brother’s place on this team?”
“They called me and asked. I don’t see why it matters to you,” Preston said.
“Well let’s start with you are my ex-husband and my brother’s dead.”
“Exactly,” Preston agreed. “He’s dead, Angie, and I’m not your ex-husband…yet. The team needs a player, I’m here, problem solved.”
“You’re not my ex, because I don’t have the cash for an attorney and you won’t cooperate,” Angie said.
Preston shrugged. “Not my problem.” He twisted the end of one of the darts between his thumb and forefinger.
“It is your problem, idiot. I want a divorce.”
“I say we give it another shot before we throw four years down the drain. Unless you’re seeing someone else.” Preston looked over her shoulder at Rodney.
Angie turned to see who Preston was referring to. Then she turned back to him, rolling her eyes. He just stood smiling that crooked smile of his. She had once found it charming, but now for the life of her she couldn’t remember what attracted her to this guy. Other than his looks. He was almost six feet tall, had blond curly hair and piercing blue eyes. But now he was much too thin, he never washed his hair, and his teeth were stained with nicotine.
As soon as Preston walked away to take his turn at the board, Angie turned to the ladies. “So that was an unpleasant surprise,” she said.
“What on earth did you ever see in that guy?” Britney asked.
“I married Preston when I was barely eighteen,” Angie explained. “I guess I was looking for the white-picket-fence life I never had growing up. I had just traded a controlling Italian mother in Brooklyn for a controlling Italian brother in Palm Beach. Marco offered me a job as front office help at his concrete company, and I saw an opportunity for independence. I had no interest in college, nor did I have the funds. The job was easy, mostly scheduling the trucks and light book-keeping.”
Angie shook her head as though not believing even the most basic facts of her life; but she was being perfectly truthful in telling them to the three girls. “Preston was one of the drivers who worked for Marco. He showed up at the office every day for his delivery schedule instead of simply calling in. Without fail, he would ask me out, and I would turn him down. It was our daily ritual…until one day, don’t ask me why, must have been a weak moment, I finally gave in. But I was specific that it would be a day date as friends. I told him to forget about PDAs of any kind. He agreed, and we ended up having a great time. He is a charmer.”
“I don’t care how charming a man is,” Britney quipped, “if they don’t have a little cash, I can’t hang.”
“What if they’re just down on their luck?” Maggie asked.
“If they’re smart enough they’ll recover—and then I’ll date them. One thing I learned in my life is a man treats a woman equally to how they feel about themselves. If a man has confidence, he’ll put you on a pedestal.” Britney’s own confidence was brimming from ear to ear.
“I’ll agree with Britney,” Angie said. “When I first met Preston, he seemed very confident.”
“Sometimes cocky can be confused with confidence,” Britney said.
Angie nodded. “You’re right about that.”
“Experience,” Britney noted.
“He definitely went all out to impress me that Saturday,” Angie resumed. “He picked me up and drove straight to PGA Marina—we climbed aboard a boat he had borrowed from a friend. We spent the day motoring up the intercoastal all the way to Jupiter, where we tied up to a dock and had lunch at Tommy Bahamas.”
“I love that place,” Maggie said.
Angie nodded in agreement but did not let Maggie’s remark distract her from her story. “I’m not sure whether it was the calming effect of the water or the perfect weather that put me in a rare mood. It was the first time I felt like I could breathe. Preston turned out to be a pretty funny guy and had me laughing all day…It was easy to ignore the red flags—and there were plenty, looking back now.”
“Oh no,” Britney said.
“Oh, it gets worse,” Angie acknowledged. “Monday morning, Preston came in late, as usual. But instead of a schedule, he received a handshake from Marco, apologizing for the short notice. Marco’s was going out of business. I pretty much saw it coming since I did the books—and Marco was constantly taking money from the company for his own use. I was actually surprised it all lasted so long.
“Preston got a job at a competitor, and I was hired to work at the casino. The company sent me to Las Vegas to train as a high stakes dealer. Preston came with me. One night after a few tequila shots, Preston talked me into a Vegas wedding, and in a weakened state, I agreed.”
“Couldn’t you get it annulled?” Britney asked.
“Actually, at first, it wasn’t too bad.” Angie’s voice changed for a moment, turning more hopeful and losing some of its harshness. “I worked a lot of hours, and Preston worked pretty regularly. It was when he was fired from the second job that he seemed to give up. He laid on the couch all day and played video games all night. He never cooked or cleaned but just left a mess everywhere. The final straw was when I caught him sexting some young girl h
e had met online while playing his stupid video games. That’s when I moved in with Marco.”
“Now you’re living with Wendy?” Maggie asked. But she already knew the answer.
“I am,” she said. “She’s such a sweetheart.”
“Have you heard anything from the detective about when you can move back in?” Alex spoke for the first time since Angie had arrived at the table. She had been silent up to that point in the conversation but seemed to be taking in everything Angie said.
“Actually, I was downtown this morning speaking with the detective,” Angie said.
“Mike Marker?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, that’s who interviewed me.”
“What did he ask?” Alex wanted to know.
Angie shrugged. “Just normal stuff. He wanted to know about our relationship. He asked about Preston and the status of my divorce. He asked for a list of enemies.”
“Didn’t they interview you the morning you found him?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, but I pretended to be in shock, so they were pretty easy on me. I knew there would be a follow-up.”
Now it was Britney’s turn to chime in. “Did he have enemies that you told them about?”
Angie laughed. “I could name a thousand people, but honestly? I wasn’t going to give them anything. I played the dumb sister and said that I didn’t really know too much about Marco’s life outside the concrete business. I didn’t even tell them about the few clients who lost money when he closed his business. I don’t think any of them would have been mad enough to kill him.”
Preston came back to the table. He pushed his way between Angie and Britney.
“You need to back up, buddy,” Britney said, moving her chair.
Preston must have just come in from smoking: the air was filled with the smell of tar and nicotine. It hung on Angie’s ex-husband as if he wore an invisible cloak.
“Did you hear the lady?” Angie asked Preston. “She said back off.”
Instead, Preston leaned in close to Angie. “I need to talk to you,” he said, pretending to whisper; but everyone could hear him clearly.
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