Crash Tack

by A. J. Stewart

  “It means his head was probably cracked open, via blunt force trauma.”

  “Brain fluid?” I’d never had that come out of me. “So could you get up from that?”

  “I have no idea, Miami. That’s something the defense would have to figure out.”

  “Where was this winch handle?”

  “If I recall,” said Allen, “in a pocket in the cockpit. I don’t know what that means. I don’t sail.”

  “So is Ron off the hook or not?”

  “For now, yes. And Edwards lost some credibility today. He’ll need more to get past the judge now.”

  “The guy seems so buttoned up. How did Ron—how did I get him so rattled?”

  Allen looked beyond me and shrugged. “I think the winch handle shows it wasn’t an accident and he was going after the most obvious option—the one he already had in jail. As for you?” Allen looked past me, nodded and said, “I’ve got to get going.”

  He walked away and I watched him go, then I noticed Deputy Castle behind me again, and I wondered how she kept doing that.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi. Crazy day.”

  “Sounds like it all went well.”

  “Except for a crazy prosecutor who seems to have it in for me.”

  “Don’t mind him. He just gets a little zealous sometimes.”

  “You know him? Edwards?”

  “Yeah, you could say.”

  “So what’s going on?”

  “I wanted to tell you. We found out something interesting about Michael Baggio and Keegan Murray.”

  “The roommates?”

  “That’s one way of putting it. They’re married.”

  “Married? How does that work?”

  “They were married in Boston in 2004.”

  “So they’re . . .”

  “Gay, yes. Does that bother you?”

  “Me? Not in the slightest. Free country. But I didn’t think they could get married.”

  “In Massachusetts, yes. Florida, no. That’s why they probably kept it quiet. We’re not quite so progressive down here.”

  “That’s funny. I always thought we were. Live and let live, and all that.”

  “You’d think. And Key West is like gay paradise. ”

  “Key West is just paradise, period. But it explains why Keegan came straight to Michael when he heard he was going to be arrested.”

  “It does.”

  “And it tightens them as suspects, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. And I asked around. Will was known as a bit of a passive-aggressive homophobe. Misogynist was another word I heard a bit.”

  “So he didn’t like men and wasn’t keen on women.”

  “Oh, he liked women. Just wasn’t keen on their rights.”

  I nodded. “So you think Ron’s out of the frame?”

  “I do.”

  “Your prosecutor buddy doesn’t seem to think so.”

  “He’s not my buddy.” She smiled, like this was amusing. “And the evidence doesn’t point to Ron at all.”

  “Evidence is like baseball statistics,” I said. “It can be whatever you want it to be.”

  “That’s a lot of cynicism for a guy who just got his friend out of jail.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. Sorry.” I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want her to think me cynical. So what I didn’t say was that I had just gotten my friend out of jail, but why the hell was he there in the first place?

  “Look I have to go,” she said. “But can I ask you a professional question?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’ve spoken to all the crew. Do you think Michael Baggio did it?”

  “With the FBI thing, and marriage. He’s as likely as anyone.”

  “But what’s your gut say? ”

  I thought it over for a second. I didn’t want to give her a glib answer. Some people are worth a little thought.

  “My gut’s not sure. I didn’t get a good vibe from Alec.”

  “Just because he’s a slippery car salesman?”

  “Maybe. But his story didn’t sit right. Nothing more.” I looked at her. “It’s not much to go on.”

  “Moscow will look at everyone again. He’s thorough like that.”

  Deputy Castle’s attention was taken by something along the hallway. “I gotta go. Thanks.” She smiled and turned away.

  I smiled and watched her leave down the hall, where another deputy, a shorter guy, was waiting. I watched them walk around the corner. Then I looked at the people around me, some well-dressed, some just trying to be. Everybody moving somewhere. I watched the hubbub for a while, until I realized I was standing in the middle of the hallway in the court attached to the county lockup, with a stupid smile on my face. I shook my head and wandered outside to wait for Ron.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  RON LOOKED LIKE he’d been in jail. He was out of the orange jumpsuit, which did wonders for his complexion, but he still looked terrible. He was gaunt, and he was a thin guy to begin with, besides his little beer belly. His clothes were wrinkled and his face was too, and the smile he wore when he came out suggested that he had reached the point where being kicked in the shins brought some semblance of joy, when the other option was being punched in the face.

  I put my arm around his shoulder and gave him a pat. I didn’t want to make too much of it, to move on as quickly as possible. I didn’t know if that was likely, let alone the best course of action, but I was making it all up on the fly. I’d never been in jail. I’d spent time in interview rooms, sweating it out while investigators of one stripe or another turned the screws or played good cop/bad cop. But that wasn’t the same thing, not by a long shot. Freedom was an assumption we all made, even if it was all smoke and mirrors. Politicians liked to do song and dance numbers about defending freedom, and on baseball fields around the country I’d sung about it more often than a kid in elementary school. But even in its illusory form, this freedom could be ripped from you at any time. Ron had done nothing wrong, and his had been stripped from him in an instant. And once stripped, I wondered if it was ever fully regained. A lot of guys at college and later in ball clubs ranted on about it, but my feeling was that if freedom meant the right to go where you wanted, when you wanted, and to do whatever you wanted without causing harm to others, then why was there a toll on the turnpike? And what happened if I didn’t pay that toll? And this house that Sally was so keen for me to buy, that had property taxes attached to it. My personal property could be taxed for money I didn’t earn from the property, and the property could be taken from me if I didn’t pay it. That seemed the kind of freedom that wafted up the chimney pipe.

  I tried to push such thoughts from my head as we got in Lenny’s truck. Ron was out, and so was the sun, and Longboard Kelly’s beckoned. If all was not right, it was a hell of a lot better than it had been that morning. Mick would have still been hosing down the courtyard at the bar so I headed for the office first. Lizzy practically jumped into Ron’s arms, which was more animated than I’d seen her, but it brought a hopeful smile from Ron.

  “I was praying for you,” she said.

  “And I thank you for it, my dear.”

  Lizzy let him go and her smile faded some, but she directed what she had left at me. “Good job,” she said before she turned back to Ron. My day had been made.

  Lenny ambled out of his office. The tradesman had finished and bar the smell of fresh paint, the office looked ready for work. He gave Ron a big hug, and slapped him on the back with a balled fist.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be there,” he said.

  “Miami explained.” Ron looked at me. “But he did a great job.”

  “I never doubted it,” said Lenny. “Come sit down.”

  Lenny’s office furniture had been put in place. His desk remained where it was, but a small fridge and the sofa from the old office filled in the space. I took the visitor’s chair by the desk, Ron took the sofa.

  “Is it too early for a drink?” said Le
nny.

  “What time is it?” Ron said, looking at his watch. I realized he hadn’t worn one for the past couple days. Then Ron shrugged. “On the inside, it’s never five o’clock.”

  Lenny took a bottle of bourbon out of his desk drawer, cracked the seal and poured Ron a glass and handed it to him. Then he poured two more. I wasn’t the biggest fan of bourbon, but that wasn’t the point, and we saluted Ron’s health and new beginnings.

  “Place looks good,” said Ron, glancing around the room.

  “Not too bad, is it?” said Lenny, sipping his drink. “So, let’s call this our first official staff meeting. We have no paying cases. How do we change that?”

  “I have a few irons in fires,” said Ron. “I’ll try and rekindle them.”

  “Good,” said Lenny.

  “I’m working with a designer to build a website, get some search engine exposure,” I said.

  “I have no idea what that means, but also good,” said Lenny. “That leaves us with unpaid cases.”

  Ron looked blank. “Being?”

  “You,” Lenny said.

  “I’m out.”

  I shook my head. “Out, but in the words of the state attorney, not forgotten. We have to keep on it, make sure there’s no chance that you end up back inside.”

  “Didn’t we do that?” asked Ron.

  “Only maybe,” said Lenny. “Let’s see where the feds take the Michael/Keegan thing, but be ready to move if it doesn’t go our way. ”

  “Plus we should keep our ears to the ground at the yacht club,” I said.

  “So that’s that,” Lenny said. “Meeting adjourned.” He looked at Ron. “What would you like to do?”

  “I’d like to sit at Longboards, and I’d like to take a shower by myself. Not necessarily in that order.”

  “I think we can accommodate that,” I said. “I’ll take you home. Pick you up later for a drink.”

  Ron nodded. “And I’d like to go see Mandy.”

  “Why?” asked Lenny.

  “Just so she knows there’s no hard feelings. I don’t blame her for this.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a fabulous idea, pal,” said Lenny. “The cops have her down as a witness, and though your intentions may be pure, I don’t think they’d agree. We don’t want to give them anything more than they’ve got.”

  Ron shrugged. “I don’t feel good about her thinking I blame her.”

  I had to hand it to Ron—he really did look for the best in folks. He didn’t feel used by Mandy—he just saw their marriage as a mistake she made, one that anyone could have chalked up. Gold digger wasn’t in his vocabulary. But all the same, his dropping in on someone the state attorney might use as a witness against him didn’t feel like the smartest move.

  “Tell you what, Ron,” I said. “I’ll drop you home, and then I’ll spin past her place and let her know you’re out, and pass on your message.”

  Ron shrugged again like that was a passable if not preferable alternative. We stood and I took Lenny’s keys from my pocket and waved them at him, and he nodded and sent us on our way. The sun was high in the sky by the time we headed out, and I stayed off the freeway so Ron could travel with the window down. He was like a superpowered Labrador that regained its energy by sticking its head out the window and taking in the cosmic rays of the sun. I swore his skin browned a shade or two on the drive to his apartment.

  “You got your keys?” I asked as he got out, and he jangled them in the air. Then he stopped and looked at me as if he had something more to say.

  “No, you don’t,” I said. “You don’t owe anybody a damned thing, least of all me.”

  He smiled and nodded and headed for his apartment.

  I stopped at the gatehouse for Mandy’s community and the guard called her and then let me in. I pulled Lenny’s truck to a stop a couple doors down from her house on Lake Mangonia and walked along the nice sidewalk. There were no other cars parked on the street, and I wondered if that was against community rules. Lenny’s truck certainly didn’t fit the ambiance they were going for, but I figured I wouldn’t be there long enough for them to do anything about it. I noticed that Mandy’s garage door was open and her car was inside. The garage was surgically clean. It wasn’t a well-lived-in space, and certainly not used by a man, who would have filled it full of the crap that men seemed to collect: old tools and random cables and fishing tackle. There was nothing but her nice little Audi convertible. The top was down, and I noticed that the space that passed for the backseat was packed full of water bottles. Perhaps Mandy had taken up running along the lake and had done a bulk buy at Sam’s Club. I tried to picture her pushing her cart around a warehouse store and the image wouldn’t fully form in my mind.

  I rang the doorbell and heard the slap of bare feet on tile, and Mandy opened the door. I could see what Ron saw in her. She was still, or again, in yoga-type clothes, skintight black pants and a lime green top, and she was in great shape. She didn’t carry an ounce of anything she didn’t need, including cash. She was a credit card kind of gal. Her hair was tied up, and I could see a parallel with Felicity Havill. Felicity was still at an age where she wanted to play down her physical attributes; Mandy was the same woman having reached the age where she wanted to play every card she had. And she had more than most.

  “Miami,” she said, with a smile. “Unexpected.”

  “Yeah, was in the neighborhood.”

  “Well, come in, you look hot.”

  I thought she meant it was warm out, but I was still in my fancy suit so I couldn’t be sure.

  “Can I offer you a smoothie, some water?”

  I thought about making a remark about the stash of H2 O in her car, but didn’t.

  “No, I’m good. I just wanted to let you know, Ron’s out of jail.”

  She spun her head to me, surprise etched across her face. Perhaps she really did have some semblance of feelings for the old dog.

  “He is? Oh, Miami, that’s great, really great.” She stepped forward and hugged me, as if I were Ron’s representative for news and physical contact. It was the real deal, and she crushed herself hard against me. I wasn’t sure where to put my hands, so I touched them briefly on her shoulder blades, and then removed them, but she held on. After longer than was necessary she let me go, and stepped away.

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “As good as can be expected. He wanted me to pass on a message. ”

  She frowned. “Really?”

  I nodded. “He wanted you to know that he doesn’t blame you. For talking to the cops, I mean. Or your relationship with Will Colfax.” I wasn’t completely sure on that last count, but it felt like the right thing to say. “He didn’t want you thinking that he thought badly of you.”

  She dropped the frown and smiled.

  “I’ve never thought badly of him. Not ever.”

  “I know.” I didn’t know that, and I didn’t really believe it, but I was on a roll saying things I didn’t actually believe.

  “So, where is he? Why didn’t he tell me this himself?”

  “Lawyer's orders. The cops aren’t through with their inquiries, so it’s best he doesn’t see you right now.”

  “Have they found another suspect?”

  “Maybe. There’s a guy who worked for Will—he’s been charged by the FBI for fraud, embezzlement. The cops are looking at his partner for Will’s death as well.”

  “Good.”

  “Not that good for him.”

  “No, not good for him. But Ron, I mean. Good for Ron.”

  I asked if she was okay and she said she was great, so I made to leave. As I turned, my eye caught briefly on a large mirror on the lounge room wall. It looked back toward an empty bedroom, the doors of which lay open but out of my direct view. I stepped to Mandy and gave her a goodbye hug. I didn’t go quite as hard as she had, and she didn’t either. Perhaps she thought I had read too much into the first one. But I held on long enough to look into the mirror and confirm that
I had seen a brown Louis Vuitton duffel bag sitting by the open door. I could easily move into a new place and leave a bag on the floor, living out of it until everything was worn and in severe need of a laundry. But that wasn’t Mandy. She would have everything put away in the closets before she even stocked the fridge.

  I let her go and she gave me a cute little smile, and I told her I’d see her later. Then I walked back to Lenny’s truck and took off. I wondered where Mandy could be going. Her former husband was fresh out of jail and her former lover was in Davy Jones’s locker less than a week, but she was headed off somewhere, and it didn’t look like back to Mom’s for a shoulder to cry on. There was no doubt in my mind. The pursuit of a life of leisure was hard work.

  I drove through the gates of the community, and then pulled into the parking lot of the Lakeshore Club condos to wait. About thirty minutes later the little Audi zoomed through the gates. Mandy had the top down, and was heavy on the gas. The car sure was zippy, and I almost lost her in traffic, but I noticed her pull up onto the freeway and was able to follow by pushing through the red light. Her little car went like a bullet, and the old truck labored to keep up. Slow and steady was its mantra, and the hare nearly broke away. I was saved by traffic just after Fort Lauderdale, and by the time we reached the Miami Beach exit I was tucked in three vehicles back, with a nice view from my high ride of the sleek Audi.

  It was the perfect position to see the little red car zoom off into the distance. Mandy didn’t take the exit—she sped on south toward downtown Miami as Lenny’s truck gave a series of knocking sounds, and then the pedal beneath my right foot gave up and I looked madly around, my eyes settling on the dashboard where the fuel gauge offered me a resounding red. The truck lost all momentum and I drifted to a stop on the side of I-95 as Mandy Bennett sped away, ever southward.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE FOLLOWING DAY dawned another bright one, a hot breeze easing across the state, swirling around so it hit us from the northwest. Ron and I spent the day arranging our shared office. There was only room for one desk and piles of boxes, so we arranged the boxes along a wall [ AJ Stewart, 10/2/15, 10:02 PM] , and then changed our minds and put them all on the desk, so there was room to move around the desk, but no room to work.