“It surprises me that I’m not in the mood to gloat over your situation,” Harder said. “Ready to be escorted back to Miami?”
Once clear of the cell, I almost hugged Harder and laughed at myself. “How did you know I was here?”
“No tears,” Harder reminded me. “Casio and Brick got an SOS call from your lawyer Cruz Campion. A few phone calls later, I got the call to come vouch for you. I pull rank even in this two-cop town. Besides, it wasn’t out of my way. I just finished eighteen holes at Naples Country Club.”
“I just need a ride to the tow yard. Where is it located, by the way?” I asked.
“Tow company’s closed,” Duno said. “Billy’s wife, Heather went into labor. Second kid. Hopefully this delivery will be easier on Billy than the last one.”
Figures Duno would be worried about the man’s role in childbirth. “I’ll need that ride after all,” I said to Harder. “Where’s Alex?”
“He’s at my house, driving my wife crazy,” Duno said. “Says he yells everything. Alex’s mother is on her way from Miami to pick him up.”
“I’d like to press charges and have Alex thrown in jail,” I said.
“I know you’re angry but he’s young enough to get a pass. Sad to say but in this day, his word trumps yours, until proven otherwise,” Duno said.
“I don’t blame you. My Tahoe will be picked up tomorrow. Tell the tow driver to charge triple. Alex’s uncle is paying the bill. Tell Billy to buy something for the new baby.”
“I like the 88 vanity plate on the front of your Tahoe. Jr.’s my favorite driver too. I hated to arrest a NASCAR fan,” Duno said.
“I got it at the Daytona 500. Better than a t-shirt.”
“Oh man, that’s on my bucket list. Where did you stay?” Duno asked.
“The infield.” Happier times with my ex-husband.
“Damn.” Duno slapped his desk. “That’s the way I’m going to do it.”
* * *
In addition to Harder’s drug-dealer looking SUV, he owned a black convertible Mercedes, buttery black leather interior, all the tricks on the dashboard.
“You look like crap.” Harder looked me over.
“This is what one looks like after having the you-know-what scared out of them. I worried the transport bus would show up before everything got straightened out and I’d be transferred to the women’s jail.”
“You been to jail?” Harder asked.
“To pick people up, to visit, but not as a guest.”
Harder drove fast but not erratic. He must’ve known he was twenty-five miles over the speed limit. Cops probably had carte blanche to drive as fast as they wanted, so long as it didn’t make headlines. Did cops get tickets? It wasn’t hard to recognize when he turned onto the Tamiami Trail even if signs hadn’t been posted. Green grass, several feet tall, grew on both sides of the highway for as far as the eye could see.
“I hate small talk,” Harder said. “I’ll put the top down; a real conversation stopper, since we won’t be able to hear anything.”
“Fine with me.” We had zero to talk about, so why pretend? “Before you do that, what’s new with the Cosmo Rich murder?”
“What do you know?” Harder went all cop on me.
“Not much of anything. The frustrating part, no one’s talking.”
“We noticed. I upped the ante with my CIs, more money on the line, incentive to beat the bushes hard.”
It was difficult to believe anyone in The Cove would be a confidential informant for Harder. “Maybe it’s because they’re more afraid of the killer than scary Harder and the threat of jail.”
“If you find out anything, who’s going to be your first call?” Harder asked.
“You, of course.” I smiled. He wasn’t even on the list of calls to be made but why tell him?
“What’s your interest in this case?”
“I met Comso’s father. He’s a genuinely nice man who deserves justice.”
“I’ve been down twice for the Jesus bus services, always looking for suspects,” Harder said, flashing his creepy cop smile.
“I bet you were pegged for a cop the second you stepped on the bus.”
Harder laughed. “I didn’t shave, put on a pair of shorts and shirt that had been in the laundry for over a week.”
“Okay, Sherlock, what did you find out?”
“No killers either week, I’d stake my badge on it. It surprised me, though. I enjoyed the service, liked the positive message and not one word about going to hell,” Harder related, then finally put the top down.
I’d never heard a bad word about Tolbert Rich. As for Cosmo, he worked hard, played hard, had a quick temper, but was also well liked. My heart ached for the Rich family.
* * *
Harder pulled up in front of the courthouse, deserted at this time of night. “Brick told me to bring you to the courthouse. Your ride home is here. Wait until I tell Brick you almost hugged me.”
“He’ll never believe you.” I laughed. “Oh look, Fab is here.” A black Porsche Carrera pulled up next to us; another new ride courtesy of Brick.
“What did I tell you?” Harder demanded. “No tears.”
I leaned across and kissed his cheek. “If I hear anything about Cosmo, I’ll call.”
“It’s okay to say N-O to Brick,” Harder said, and waited until I was seated in Fab’s car before pulling away.
“So, so happy to see you,” I hugged her awkwardly over the console in the cramped car.
“What the hell happened?” Fab demanded.
“Have you met Alejandro aka Alex Famosa, the seven-year-old bratty spawn of Casio?” I told her everything that happened, and about my incarceration in a boonville jail.
“I knew I didn’t like kids for a reason.” Fab waited for Harder to clear the parking lot before she screeched to the signal.
“Who asked you to pick me up?”
“Casio called, told me you needed a ride. He got the call from Cruz who, by the way, ripped him a new one. Cruz told Casio to make the situation go away pronto.”
“Do me favor?” I asked.
“You’ve had such a hideous day, I’m going to take a chance and say yes, no questions.”
“Call Brick, tell him to pick up my Tahoe in Springs tomorrow and deliver it to my house. He’s not to dawdle.”
“My pleasure.” Fab’s smile was all teeth like a mad dog. “If he doesn’t pick up, I’ll threaten to come to his office.”
“I want to go home and wash off the stink of the day.”
“Let’s go swimming,” Fab said. “Hang onto your seat.” The light turned green and she threw the Carrera in gear and took off.
“How was your day with Madeline?” I asked.
Fab glared at me. “Your mother is a handful.”
“You knew that before you asked her to be your ride along.” I succeeded in not laughing. “What did she do?”
“She brought a gun, under the impression we were on our way to a shoot-out. When she found out stakeout is synonymous with boring, she copped an attitude.”
“Did you figure out who the thief is?” I pulled my seatbelt tighter as Fab screeched up to a red light.
“Nooo! Steal something already! I’m beginning to believe my client exaggerated about how often the thefts are occurring.”
“Stakeouts are so unsexy. A bunch of hurry up and wait and wait,” I said. “I’ll go next time and, when it becomes mind numbing, I’ll torment you.”
“You know, I would’ve broken you out of that little dickwater jail.” Fab’s smile told me she had given thought to the idea.
“I was counting on that. We’d have to go on the run.”
“We could hide in plain sight in the Keys and no would talk. We protect our own, for better or worse,” Fab said, but otherwise looked lost in thought.
“I know that look. What?”
Fab slammed on the brakes to make the Tarpon Cove exit. “Maybe that’s the key to the Cosmo Rich case and why no one’s talk
ing. The murderer is a local.”
CHAPTER 19
The pool area at night twinkled with white Christmas lights wrapped around the trunks of all the trees, which also had floodlights at each base. In each potted plant, copper solar light stakes illuminated the flowers. Fab and I sat on the patio and finished scarfing down hamburgers from Roscoe’s.
“Hi, ladies,” Zach said, walking out of the house, a pitcher in one hand, glasses in the other.
“Did you make them?” I asked.
“Margaritas, courtesy of Jake’s. I’ve come to celebrate.” He set everything on the edge of the pool.
“New clients?” I tossed my cover-up on the chaise, and jumped into the water.
“Don’t forget the salt and the lime before you jump in,” Fab told Zach. “No, I’m not going to my room and giving you privacy,” she added as she stepped into the pool.
I splashed water on Fab.
Zach disappeared inside the house for only a minute, reappearing in his bathing suit with a second tray of drink paraphernalia. “We’re celebrating Madison’s release from jail.”
“How did you find out?” I swam over and sat on the top step.
“Cruz and I were at the courthouse when his assistant called with your frantic message. Cruz does crisis with efficiency better than anyone I know. He made several rapid-fire phone calls to get the situation straightened out and you released.” Zach poured the margaritas into the glasses and handed them to Fab and me.
“Detective Harder sprung me.” I filled Zach in on the details.
“I saw Harder a couple of days ago and he asked how you were. I thought I’d heard him wrong. When did you two get so chummy?” Zach asked.
“Thanks for the margarita,” Fab said, getting out of the pool.
“You don’t have to leave,” I said.
Zach poked me in the side.
“I’ve got a client call to make and give him an update. See you in the morning.”
“Thank you for picking me up, especially when I know you avoid our favorite Detective Harder when possible.”
“This is the first time he didn’t have any snotty comments for me.” Fab laughed. “Maybe I’m going to reap some rewards for this new fondness he has for you. Try not to be loud.” She disappeared inside the house.
“Alone at last,” Zach sighed, and pulled me into a kiss.
“Don’t go anywhere.” I got out of the pool, walked over, and hit the switch on the pool lights. “How was your day, honey?” I removed my bathing suit and walked down the steps into the pool.
“Boring. I testified in a criminal case today and worried about you until I got the call you’d been sprung. You should’ve called me.”
“What, and tell you I’d been outsmarted by a seven-year-old?”
“Every one of Famosa’s kids has a reputation for being an out of control brat. Casio’s parenting style is to let them run wild, thinking they’ll grow into responsible adults. When he realizes that’s a sucky plan, it’ll be too late.”
“You’re overdressed,” I whispered. “Do you want kids?” I asked as I pulled off his bathing trunks. “After today I don’t think I want any.”
“Have you told Madeline?”
“Heck no. She’s on the grandchildren warpath and she wants them now.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pushed me up against the side of the pool.
“Sometimes your mother scares me.”
Zach pulled me to him and kissed me as I ran my fingers down his back. “Let’s take this inside. I don’t trust Fab not to look out the window.” He lifted me out of the water, wrapped an over-sized towel around us, and carried me inside, and up the stairs.
CHAPTER 20
“What’s your plan?” I asked Fab, opening her car door. “Your car’s too small. We’ll take mine. At least I’ll be able to stretch out.”
“I’m driving. I heard the tow truck screech to a stop this morning and when I looked out the window, one of Brick’s men was dumping your Tahoe in the driveway.”
“Catch.” I tossed Fab the keys. “Looks like he had it washed for me, must be feeling guilty. Try to stay somewhere close to the speed limit.”
Fab helped me load an ice chest, along with a couple of pillows and blankets, in the back.
“I’m warning you up front, this could be another tedious day.” Fab threw her bag in the back.
“What’s the story on your client?” I asked. Then added, “And not the long winded version.”
“Norman’s shipments get delivered to the main warehouse in Miami. Every day, inventory is sorted and shipped to their second location in Orlando. Somewhere along the way, boxes of beauty supplies go missing. Anywhere from small stuff like nail polish to higher end items. They don’t recheck in Orlando so it wasn’t until the yearly inventory that they noticed the shortage.”
“So Mr. Norman thinks the inventory goes missing between Miami and Orlando?” I asked. “Maybe an employee of the trucking company.”
“That’s Norman’s theory and he wants me to prove it.” Fab drove into a warehouse complex, parking at the far end. “The paperwork trail starts when they take possession of the shipments that come in weekly by boat. All inventory gets checked in and accounted for, and the Miami warehouse has security cameras recording everything. He secretly hired a friend to supervise the loading of every shipment that leaves Miami. At least once a week, a truck rolls up short in Orlando.”
“While we’re waiting for the truck to leave, I brought a bag of tricks. My laptop, magazines, a deck of cards and a couple electronic games. Or we can talk, maybe more about who is Fabiana Merceau.”
“We can have that talk next year. Showtime!” Fab said.
The delivery truck rolled out of the driveway and headed straight for the turnpike. We had a long, boring ride ahead of us.
“What’s happened the last few times you’ve followed the truck?” I asked. “Is it the same trucking company, same driver every time?”
“Norman’s nephew owns the trucking company and it’s a different driver every time. Other than that nothing has changed, truck gets on the interstate, transfers to the turnpike, doesn’t make a stop until it arrives in Orlando.”
It must be killing Fab to drive just under the speed limit. Any faster and the truck would be following her. Fab turned on the radio, hitting the scan button every few seconds. I answered email on my laptop.
We’d been following the truck for about fifty miles, when the right blinker flashed and the truck exited the highway.
“What’s out here?” I asked. Acres of trees lined both sides of the highway, not even a single housing development boasting how one could live in the middle of nowhere, cheap. My first question would be, where’s the shopping?
“This is one of those on and off ramps that runs through a gas station travel center,” Fab said. “Grab my camera bag on the seat behind me.”
I put my laptop on the backseat and pulled out the camera, attaching the long lens. “Since gas out here is triple the going rate, I wonder what’s up with the stop?”
The truck cruised around the back, parking at the end of the second row, completely surrounded by long haul drivers. The truckers parked their rigs after getting gas, then got food, showers and shopping all in one stop.
“Would you use a public shower?” Fab asked. “Why are you looking in the back?”
“I’m looking because there must be someone else in this car. You can’t possibly be asking me if I’d risk getting foot crud and whatever else.” I shook my head. “Where are we going to park, so that you can take pictures unnoticed?”
“I’m parking in front of the water and air machine. You jump out and check your tires. You know how to do that don’t you?”
“Actually, smarty, my father taught me when I was about ten. I used to follow him around, asking a hundred questions. If he knew something, then I had to know it.”
“I’ll snap pictures from the back seat. Take your cell, click a couple of pics if
you have the chance.”
Fab climbed into the back seat and set up her stuff at the side window behind the driver’s seat. I jumped out and crouched beside the front passenger tire with an obstructed view of the truck.
Minutes later, a rental van pulled up beside the truck. Both trucks had women drivers, average looking, mid-thirties, who jumped out and exchanged a few words. They both disappeared inside the back of the delivery truck and began pulling boxes, stacking them on the back ramp.
“Missy, you need some help with them tires?” A middle-aged man, tugging his wife beater shirt down over his paunch, stood over me.
“Thanks but I have this under control,” I said.
“Pretty little thing, you shouldn’t be getting your hands dirty.” He spit into the trashcan, and flashed a smile showing nice tobacco stained teeth from the chew stuffed in his cheek. “You don’t even have the cap off.” He pointed.
The back passenger window rolled down about two inches, a gun nozzle shoved out the opening. “Beat it!” Fab yelled.
“You could’ve…,” he stammered and took off. He mumbled something but I couldn’t make out his words.
Fab rolled the window back up before I could say anything.
The women were organized. Once they pulled the boxes, they double-checked their list, and transferred everything to the van in under thirty minutes. None of the other truck drivers paid them one minute of attention. They locked up and headed inside the travel center.
I opened the passenger door. “I’ll follow and see what they’re doing and get a couple more pictures.”
“Not necessary. I got plenty of good pics. Bad news is that the driver of the van is Norman’s daughter.” Fab climbed over the console back into the driver’s seat.
“Oh no. What are you going to do?” I closed my door.
“I’m not telling him,” Fab said. “I’ll hand him my final report complete with pictures and let it speak for itself. I’m not looking him in the face and telling him his daughter’s a thief.”
“Now what?”
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