Falafel Jones - Max Fried 01 - Life's a Beach Then You Die

by Falafel Jones

  She suppressed a grin and made a dismissive wave with her hand. “Uncle Ed tells me you have some questions for me.”

  “Uncle Ed?”

  She laughed. “When I was about ten years old, Ed McCarthy did so much work for my father that he practically lived at our house. He spent so much time with us I began to call him Uncle Ed. That went on for about five years until the end of Daddy’s real estate acquisition phase. Though he claimed otherwise, I think all of that work may have lead to the end of Uncle Ed’s second marriage, or was it his third? Then when Daddy turned his investments in other directions, I didn’t see Uncle Ed much after that until he started handling my own real estate a few years later. Now, he occasionally helps our corporate legal team. She placed her hands together in her lap and leaned forward towards me. “So, what do you want to know?”

  “Well, I’m working with ah, Uncle Ed on a case. During the course of our investigation, we came across someone whose interests conflict with those of Ed’s client. The reason I’m here is you seem to have a connection to the person with the conflict.”

  “You beat around the bush, very well, Mr. Fried, but I’m not that easily offended. Who are we not talking about here?”

  “You appear to be a part owner of PC Gadgets. You’re listed as Vice President of the corporation. Ben Horton, the President, may have interests that conflict with Ed’s client. We’d like to sort this out.”

  “I know Ben Horton. Who’s the client?”

  “The estate of Ray Kenwood.”

  “Ray’s dead? And Ben has conflicting interests?”

  “Yes. You knew Ray too?”

  “Yes. I was about 16. Daddy had a sailboat, a beautiful custom yacht with two masts, four cabins, and a full time crew. I used to dream about sailing away and never returning. Daddy kept it here in New Smyrna Beach, but he’d sail it back and forth to Key West. On his first trip to the Keys, Daddy captained the boat and hired Ben and Ray as crew. They were local boys who worked summers at the marina. Daddy met Skipper when we docked in the Keys. He was from around here and looking for work, so Daddy hired him. Skipper was a few years older than the boys were and he had a lot of blue water experience. That summer, I spent two weeks on that boat. I loved it. I still love the water.”

  When she started talking, the billionaire heiress disappeared and I saw the teenager who loved the sea. For some reason, this made me feel more comfortable with her. I sat back in my chair. “When did you last see Ray and Ben?”

  She leaned forward and in a soft voice said, “Ed said this conversation would be confidential.”

  I leaned forward and in a soft voice, responded, “Yes, it is.”

  She nodded, “OK. I saw them last on the day they were arrested.”

  “Arrested?” I already knew Ben Horton’s version of this story. Now, I wanted to see if Corky corroborated it.

  “Yes. Daddy felt awful. You see, when he wasn’t using the boat, Daddy let the crew go where they wanted. They worked full time crew and lived onboard. Sometimes, they went to Cuba and brought back cigars. Daddy and his friends loved those cigars and the crew was able to supplement their income. No one really cared or thought it was a big deal.”

  She paused. I got the impression that she was deciding whether to tell me more, so I sat there quietly, while she thought it over. She pressed her lips together and then continued.

  “That is, until officers arrested Ray and Ben. I was on the boat with them on their last trip to Cuba but Ray and Ben told the officers that I wasn’t. They said I was just some girl they met that day in Key West. I was wearing a bikini and the folks at the Yacht Club vouched for me so they just let me go.”

  “You got lucky.”

  “Yes. The Feds also investigated Daddy, but since he wasn’t there and the boys claimed Daddy was ignorant, no one arrested him. The next day, Daddy had a crew tow the Leviathan back here to New Smyrna Beach. The day after it arrived, Daddy died on it. I loved that boat and I hated that boat.”

  “What became of the Leviathan?”

  “I sealed it up and put it in storage the day Daddy died. I couldn’t bear to use it, but I couldn’t bear to part with it either.”

  “What about the Captain? Did he get arrested too?”

  “No, he disappeared. The police were looking for him but they didn’t find him. I’d guess he saw the police and went over the side. He was a great swimmer. He could probably have swum quite a distance underwater. We never saw him again. He didn’t even come back for his things. He was lucky, because we later found out the police wanted him for a previous incident on another boat. They showed me his picture… said his name was Dan, no… maybe David, I don’t know. It was a name I never heard him use. Anyway, they claimed he smuggled Cubans. This time, I mean people not cigars. I heard one of the police say something about wanting to talk to him about a death in Miami.”

  “Did the Police have the Captain’s name correct?”

  “Gee, Mr. Fried. I was 16. The crew seemed like old men. We really didn’t socialize. All I remember is Ben, Ray and Skipper. Everyone, even Daddy, called him nothing but “Skipper”.

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Vaguely. I remember he had long wavy blond hair and a Fu Manchu style moustache. Do you remember those?” She laughed.

  “Yes. I remember many bad styles and I wore most of them. They all seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d really like to track down this captain. Any chance his name might be on some payroll or personnel record?”

  “Possibly, I’ll have Amanda check into that and call you.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it. You’ve known Horton for a long time. Did you know about his food allergy?”

  “You mean that peanut thing? Oh, yes. He was constantly interrogating people who prepared his food about what ingredients they used. It got to the point that when Skipper and Ray had kitchen duty, they refused to make Ben’s food. He ended up making all of his own meals. Why do you want to know about that?”

  “Just background information, one last question, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  “So, how did you end up as vice president on the PC Gadgets corporate papers?”

  “Well, a little while ago, I got this call from Ben. I hadn’t heard from him in years. He needed to borrow some money because he was having some trouble with his company. He said he had a new design he wanted to bring to market but he needed cash. I was surprised to hear from him after so long, but I wanted to help him because he helped me avoid arrest. I agreed to the loan, handed him over to our financing staff. They made him put me on the board to protect my investment.”

  “I guess I lied. Now, I have an additional question. Do you know what this new product is?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter.” She broke eye contact and looked over my shoulder. “I owed him.” She was watching something while she spoke. “I would have financed anything he…”

  I looked behind me and saw the elevator door closing. Detectives Torres and Fitzpatrick stood in front of it scanning the room, their gold badges and guns prominent on their belts. Torres caught my eye and the detectives started towards me with two of the EFH security men trailing behind. I turned back to Corky and saw her assistant, Amanda Finch, had materialized by her side. I wondered what was going on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Torres stopped next to me, stared down and said, “Fried. What are you doing here?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Detective Fitzpatrick walked over to Corky and asked, “Corky Eastwood?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Detective Fitzpatrick.” He nodded his head to the side. “My partner, Detective Torres. We’d like to ask you some questions.” Fitzpatrick looked at me and then at Finch as if he wanted us to leave. When we didn’t, he asked Corky, “Is there someplace we can talk?”

  “We can talk right here. What do you want to know?”

  Fitzpatrick hesitated a moment as if considering his options
, then asked, “How long have you known Ben Horton?”

  Corky looked at me, then at Fitzpatrick, “Why do you want to know?”

  “Corporate papers show you as Vice President of Horton’s company.”

  “I’m an officer of many corporations.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but someone tried to kill Horton.”

  She seemed surprised. Maybe I should have told her about the attempt to kill Horton. Maybe I should have told her Ray was murdered. I held off because I didn’t want to color her answers. Maybe I was wrong. She looked at me again. This time, her expression wasn’t that pleasant. “And you sent Mr. Fried to see what he could learn first?”

  Torres sprang to life. “What? Fried? No. He’s got nothing to do with us. I’d like to know what he’s doing here myself.”

  He didn’t have to act as if working with me was so repulsive, but at least his reaction seemed to reassure Corky I was on her side. To buttress that position, I said, “I’m working for Ms. Eastwood’s attorney on a private matter.”

  Fitzpatrick ignored the sideshow and continued to question Corky. “Are you aware that Ben Horton was buying trade secrets from a competitor?”

  “No.”

  “How did you meet Ben Horton?”

  “I’d prefer not to answer anymore questions without my attorney present.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No.”

  Fitzpatrick reached out his hand towards Corky. “Then you’ll have to come with us. Your lawyer can meet us at the station and we can chat.”

  Corky stood up and turned to her assistant Amanda. “Please arrange for appropriate counsel to meet me.”

  Amanda just nodded. She seemed too shocked to speak. She and I stood and watched Corky leave with the Detectives. As soon as they were gone, I ran to the elevator and pressed the button. I decided to follow them to the police station.

  When I got to my car, I phoned Ed’s cell but got only voice mail. When I got to the police station, I tried to get in to see Corky or Torres, but they refused me entry. I went back to my car and watched for anyone that looked like an EFH lawyer. I thought it likely that only a lawyer would drive an expensive car and wear a suit to a police station.

  I watched the parking lot entrance for 10 minutes. No one came or left. Then a silver Mercedes pulled into a spot near the door. I got out of my car so I could see the driver. It was Ed. I ran over and called his name. I wanted to catch him before he went inside.

  He stopped and turned to see who was calling him. When he saw me, he started in my direction so I slowed to a walk. We met halfway.

  “Max, what are you doing here?”

  “I was talking to Corky about Horton when Torres and Fitzpatrick came to question her. What about you?”

  “I’m her lawyer.”

  “I thought EFH was sending someone.”

  “They did. Me. At this location, EFH legal only handles contracts and civil litigation. I’m on retainer to fill in the gaps. I can’t talk now. I’ve got to go.” He got about three feet and then turned back to face me, “You promised me that you’d keep Corky out of this and now she’s in police custody. I should have cut you loose earlier.” He showed me his back and started walking away.

  I ran after him. “Wait, Ed. I had nothing to do with this. The police found the same records I did. They came to see Corky because she’s listed as VP in Horton’s company.”

  Ed stopped, “How do you know this?”

  “I heard them say so when they arrived.”

  “For sure?”

  “For sure.”

  Ed turned to enter the building and I walked with him. When we got to the door, he paused and gave me a puzzled look. “You following me?”

  “Yeah. Corky already told me what she knows. I may be able to help you. Besides, if the police are questioning her about Horton, I may be able to learn something from their questions.”

  Ed shrugged and we went in to see Corky. A cop escorted us into the squad room where Corky was sitting in a side chair at Fitzpatrick’s desk drinking bottled water. When he saw us, Fitzpatrick stood up. “Mr. McCarthy. Mr. Fried.”

  Ed said, “I’m here to represent Ms. Eastwood.”

  “Very good. This way please.” We followed him into an interview room.

  We all sat and Fitzpatrick began.

  “Ms. Eastwood. How long have you known Ben Horton?”

  “I’d rather not answer that.”

  “OK, how did you meet?”

  “I’d rather not answer that either.”

  “How about, how did you come to be Vice President of his company?”

  She shook her head.

  “Ms. Eastwood. Ben Horton was your business partner. We know he was buying trade secrets stolen from a competitor. If you won’t answer our questions, we can’t know that you weren’t involved in the theft or that you didn’t have anything do with the attempt to kill him.”

  Ed leaned in towards Fitzpatrick. “My client is innocent until proven guilty. She has no burden of proof here. You do.”

  “OK,” Fitzpatrick said, “How’s this? I’m going prove your client and Horton were stealing from A. V. Designs. She knew that we were onto Horton and she paid someone to shut him up before he incriminated her. Plus she had to protect her investment.”

  Corky laughed. It seemed genuine. “Do you know how much I invested in Ben’s company? Twenty thousand dollars. Do you think anyone is going to believe that I’d have someone killed over such a small amount?”

  “So you don’t think it’s a lot of money. Working folks on a jury might not agree. Besides, even if the money wasn’t a factor, you’d still want to avoid going down with him on the theft charges.”

  Ed stood up. “We’ve had enough. You’ve got nothing to justify holding Ms. Eastwood. We’re leaving.”

  Fitzpatrick sat and watched us leave the room. Torres was waiting outside watching us. Just as Corky walked past him, he said, “Ma’am, you must realize that if you didn’t try to kill Ben Horton, someone else did. Since you’re Horton’s business partner, you might be next on some killer’s list.”

  Corky stopped and turned to glare at him. He shrugged and escorted us out of the building.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I was with Corky longer than I thought I’d be, but I still had plenty of time to get to my meeting with Clive Howard, the Security Chief at A. V. Designs.

  When I drove up to the gate at A. V. Designs, a uniformed guard stepped out of his booth and smiled, “Good afternoon sir, how may I help you?”

  “I’ve got a 4:00 with the Chief of Corporate Security. My name is Max Fried.”

  “Do you have some ID sir?”

  This was my third chance to show off my new P. I. license, so I did. After seeing it, the guard seemed even less impressed than Detective Torres. He stepped back into the booth and made a phone call. Then he came out of the booth holding a small digital camera. He bent down next to my window and aimed the camera at me. “This is for your ID,” he said and then pressed a button.

  He went back into the booth and after a bit, came out with a laminated photo ID bearing my name, today’s date and the word “VISITOR” in huge red letters. “This is your temporary ID sir. As indicated on the card, it is good for today only. You must wear this ID the entire time you’re on the campus and you must return it when you leave.” He looked at me as if to see if his instructions registered and I nodded.

  “Building Two sir. Just follow this road to the left. Park in any space marked ‘Visitors’”. He handed me a paper tag to hang from my rear view mirror. Printed on the front was today’s date, a number and the word “VISITOR”. I looked at the back of the tag and saw five inches of fine, hardly readable print having something to do with the rights of A. V. Designs pertaining to my vehicle should I overstay my welcome. “Have a good day sir.”

  “Thanks.” I drove on to the left, parked my car and walked to Building Two. I felt like I was on a college campus. It was a big place, with several
buildings and nice landscaping. Little pockets of trees and plants dotted sprawling lawns. I saw some palm trees, some ferns, hibiscus and some plants with trumpet shaped flowers I couldn’t name. I’d guess they probably employed more landscapers than other companies had staff. All of this green cost a lot of money.

  I passed the employee parking lot for Building Two and noticed a blue four door Taurus in a space marked reserved for “Security Chief”. I looked at the license plate and recognized it as the plate number Karl had seen in front of my house. I entered the building and found a semicircular reception desk just in front of a bank of elevators. As I walked in the door, a man in a dark business suit stood up behind the counter and asked, “How may I help you sir?” It sounded more like a command than a question.

  I showed my new photo ID and he slapped a green sticker on my chest that read “BLDG 2” in big black letters. I guessed that instead of hiring people smart enough to know what day it was, they just changed the sticker color daily.

  He made a note in a book and then directed me to the fifth floor. When I exited the elevator, it opened into a reception area. An attractive young, blonde woman sat at a desk facing the elevator door. She had shoulder length hair put up in some kind of a knot. When I exited the elevator, she stood up. She was wearing a dark blue, business suit with a skirt. Under her collarless suit jacket was a white scoop neck shell. “Mr. Fried?”

  I nodded and she gestured to an alcove next to the elevator with a small sofa and two chairs grouped around a small coffee table. Someone had fanned magazines artfully across the table so that the titles were visible. A coffee maker with Styrofoam cups sat on a small table nearby.

  “The Chief is on a call right now. If you’ll please be seated, he should be done shortly and I’ll send you right in.” She smiled so sweetly I felt compelled to comply. I didn’t want her to think I was a jerk. Besides, I could see the lit light on her telephone console. She sat back down and turned to a computer screen on her desk.