Matanzas Bay

by Parker Francis

  “I’m sorry if we got off to a bad start. My life’s been a blur lately. Keeping up with my campaign schedule and shepherding all the construction details for Matanzas Bay hasn’t been easy. That’s no excuse for rude behavior, but there’s something important I’d like to discuss with you. If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”

  Laurence had slipped into his politician’s persona, his voice ingratiating and appealing. “What is it?” I asked, letting my irritation show.

  “Not on the phone. Can you come by my office?”

  “Now?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  I was only six miles from his office. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Unlike my last visit, Laurance’s assistant was waiting for me when I entered the lobby. She ushered me into his office suite and closed the door behind her. Laurance rose from behind his ostentatious desk to greet me. He gripped my hand tightly, his other hand grasping my forearm. I expected to see Tallabois lurking in the background, but Laurance’s security chief was noticeably absent.

  He examined my battered face. “Are you sure you’re all right? I have an excellent specialist I can recommend.”

  “It looks a lot worse than it is. I’ll be back to my old handsome self in a few weeks.”

  “Good.” He still clutched my hand. “Good,” he repeated, and we walked to the chairs by the window.

  “I know you must be wondering why I called.”

  “You might say that.”

  “I felt bad after the little scene with Lem at the commission meeting. Also, I said some cruel things about Clayton Henderson and then the poor man commits suicide.” He shook his head and opened his hands as if to say, who knew this would happen. “It’s certainly been an eventful week for you.”

  “Hasn’t it?”

  “I wanted to apologize for Lem’s belligerence. He means well, but sometimes his sense of duty leads him astray.”

  “Sounds like the definition of a loose cannon.”

  “Perhaps, but that’s one of the reasons why I wanted to speak with you.”

  Lifting the top folder from a stack lying on the table, Laurance held it a moment as though judging its weight. “This contains the latest poll figures from a survey taken last week. Although the first primary is more than a month away, it shows me twenty points ahead of the Attorney General, my most serious challenger, and nearly thirty points ahead of the Democratic candidates.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “I’m quite pleased, as you may gather, but a lot can change between now and November.”

  “Sounds like you’re in the driver’s seat, so I doubt you invited me here to give you political advice.”

  The broad smile spread across his face again. “In a way, Quint—you don’t mind if I call you Quint? In a way, you could be very helpful.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve taken too much time away from campaigning tending to business matters. By-the-way, we missed you at the groundbreaking ceremony this morning.”

  I pointed at my bruised face. “I was otherwise detained. Everything go well?”

  “Couldn’t be better. As I was saying, I’ve taken time away from campaigning to make sure Matanzas Bay and some other projects stayed on track. Monday, I return to the campaign fulltime. I’ll be making five, six stops a day all over the state. Republican Club meetings, civic organizations, town hall meetings, fundraisers, you name it. Wherever my staff can find a few hands for me to pump.”

  His expression implied he was a reluctant participant in the three-ring circus of big-scale, high-budget political campaigns, but I felt he relished every moment of it. “Exciting times ahead for you,” I offered.

  “Non-stop. Everything is planned to the second. Once we’re underway I can’t afford a potential loose cannon, as you said, creating problems for me.”

  Any number of issues might pop up before the elections, but Laurance seemed to have everything going for him. His chief competitors were longtime politicians, many of them bumped from office due to term limit restrictions. Most political insiders believed the recent gambling scandals had set the stage for Laurance to win going away.

  “Here’s the point, Quint. I’ve always prided myself on finding the best people to work for me and then giving them the authority to do their jobs. It’s the secret to my success. That and the fact I’m just plain brilliant.”

  He laughed heartily at his little joke, and I found his good humor contagious despite myself.

  Laurance turned off his laugh and said, “Unfortunately, I didn’t follow my own rules and hired Tallabois at the urging of one of the party hacks in the panhandle.”

  “The man does have a few rough edges.”

  “True, but don’t judge him too harshly. He’s had a tough time of it recently. His wife is in a cancer ward in Baton Rouge, and he’s been spending every cent I pay him on her medical care. I feel for him, but it’s time to move on. I’m hiring another security chief and you’re the man I want.”

  Blame my head trauma, but I never saw it coming. “Me?”

  “Don’t look so shocked, Quint. I told you I always look for professionals.”

  I could think of a dozen reasons why he had tagged the wrong man. “I’m flattered, but as governor you’ll have your pick of anyone in the Highway Patrol or the FDLE.”

  “Yes, but I’ve been a private businessman all my life and I want someone without any ties to the state bureaucracy. Someone who understands the way business works, as well as having a good head for security and investigation.”

  It seemed to make sense when he explained it that way, but still I asked, “Why me? There are probably a hundred people within fifty miles of here with better resumes.”

  “Don’t be so modest.” He pulled another folder from the stack and opened it. Inside were a dozen or so sheets of paper and he lifted out the first document. “Quinton Logan Mitchell, you actually have a very impressive track record. Good family background. Good education. You achieved Master-at-Arms ranking in the Navy, and your service during the first Gulf War was exemplary. Some people might even call you a hero.”

  He was referring to the commendation I received for my part in putting down a prison rebellion by Republican Guard soldiers that left three people dead.

  “You did solid work with the DEA before forming your own investigation business. You have hands on experience with law enforcement and private enterprise. My sources tell me you are a well-respected professional in your field.” He set the report on the table between us and folded his hands on top of it.

  “Admit it; you’re head and shoulders above Lem Tallabois. Your expertise is wasted as a private investigator. With me, you’ll have a much larger stage.”

  “Politics has never been my game.”

  “I’m not talking about politics. You’ll be point man for all security operations for me as governor, and for the St. Johns Group. You’ll tell the Highway Patrol what to do as it relates to my protection, and when I leave office you continue as security head for my company. How does that sound?”

  Serena’s words rushed through my head. I don’t want to worry about whether someone is going to kill you every time you go to work. If I wanted it, Kurtis Laurance was offering me the perfect solution.

  “This is all a bit overwhelming, and totally unexpected.”

  “I consider myself a good judge of people and even though we didn’t get off on the right foot at our first meeting, I believe you’re the man for the job.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Maybe this will help you make up your mind. I won’t embarrass you by asking what your annual take home might be as a private investigator, but I’m offering you a starting salary of two hundred thousand dollars.”

  I attempted to get my head around the number of zeros. “Per year?”

  “Yes, of course.” He smiled at my incredulousness before turning serious. “Here’s the thing, though. I’m flying to Tallahassee
in the morning for a planning session with party officials before my campaign swing starts on Monday. We’ll be taking the corporate jet, and I wanted you to come along if possible. You’ll have the opportunity to meet some of my campaign advisors and give me your impressions. Of course, I’d also like you to travel with me Monday for my campaign swing.”

  “I don’t know, I have a pretty full plate right now.”

  “It’s not a deal breaker, by any means. I know this has all been sudden and you have to get your other affairs in order.”

  “I don’t see how I can drop everything and—”

  “That’s perfectly understandable, but I do want your answer by nine tonight.” He tapped his index finger on the folder. “I need to have everything in order before we start, and knowing you’re on my team will put my mind to rest. Of course, if your answer is no I’ll have to make alternate plans.”

  He gave me his cell phone number and I promised to call. As he walked me toward the door, one hand on my shoulder, he asked, “By-the-way, did you ever take a look at the property around my Matanzas Bay development?”

  “As a matter-of-fact, I did. Were you referring to the large vacant lot and run down stores adjoining the project?”

  “That’s right. Would you care to guess who owns both of those parcels?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now, but they belonged to Henderson.”

  “Henderson?” The codicil that mysteriously appeared in my mail itemized two parcels of real estate along with a million dollars as a bequest to Erin Marrano.

  “Yes, Henderson owns, or I should say owned, both of those parcels. More than four acres between the two parcels. They’d fit nicely into the second stage of development.”

  “Didn’t you try to purchase them?”

  “Of course. My real estate people offered him a fair price.”

  “I guess he didn’t take you up on your offer?”

  “Henderson laughed at us and said it was worth five times what we’d offered. He was jockeying for more money, so I met with him personally. Increased the offer to five hundred thousand dollars. Very generous, I thought.”

  “He didn’t take it.”

  “No, he wanted a million-and-a-half dollars. When I refused, he told me he would do his best to stop Matanzas Bay from getting built. Shortly afterwards, Poe began ranting about the project at the city commission meetings.”

  It wasn’t much of a stretch to believe Henderson had fueled Poe’s passions and caused him to go public with his feelings.

  “Anyway, Henderson was only playing for time, hoping to keep me distracted until I increased my offer.”

  “And would you? Increase the offer?”

  After a long pause, he finally said, “Yes. I spoke with Bill Marrano a few days before he was killed and told him I’d be willing to go as high as one million dollars.”

  “What did Marrano say?”

  “He thought it was too much money.”

  “Huh.”

  “Bill suggested another more cost-efficient route. Eminent domain.” Laurance paused for a few beats while I processed the information. “I couldn’t say anything when you mentioned you’d heard Bill had called a special meeting of the city commission. You thought it was because he’d changed his mind about Matanzas Bay.”

  “So, the meeting was to—”

  “That’s right. We were going to begin legal proceedings to acquire Henderson’s property. Obviously, he didn’t want to alert Henderson by advertising his intentions. After Bill’s murder, Mayor Cameron decided to put it off until later.”

  Now I wondered where Henderson picked up the story about Marrano changing his mind.

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Laurance said.

  “What’s that?”

  “If Henderson hadn’t taken that plunge off the top of the lighthouse, and the city decided not to invoke eminent domain, he probably could have pushed me to a million dollars. But now I should be able to snap up that property for even less than my original offer.”

  FORTY

  Back at my apartment, I walked Bogie and fed both animals before pulling a handful of ice cubes from the freezer and dropping them into a freezer bag. Pressing the ice pack against my throbbing head with one hand, I grabbed a beer with the other and walked out to the balcony hoping to make some sense of the last few hours.

  This day had not turned out the way I thought it would. Hell, the entire week was like something out of the Wizard of Oz. The only things missing were the flying monkeys, and there was still time for them to show up. A rumble of thunder rolled over the traffic sounds below me on First Street. I dropped into a rocker to work my way through Laurance’s surprising offer.

  Here I was in the middle of a murder case. Perhaps two murders if Henderson’s death wasn’t a suicide, and maybe three if Buck Marrano hadn’t come to my rescue. Of course, I wouldn’t be sitting here musing over the perplexities of life and death if the gators were a bit faster. If all of this wasn’t confusing enough, out of the blue Kurtis Laurance announces he wants me on his team. Another coincidence? Maybe I’m becoming too cynical for my own good.

  Laurance definitely made a poor decision by hiring Tallabois. It didn’t take a genius to see the ex-cop was out of his league for such a high profile position. What about me? I spent most of my time tracking down deadbeats and investigating white collar criminals. Did I honestly think I could slip into the big money corporate world as head of security for a billion-dollar company?

  Yes, I guess I did. But was that what I wanted? I’d always been the independent type. The Navy had more than its share of rules and regulations, but the DEA was a bureaucratic nightmare. I left to become my own boss. I decided what cases to accept and when to take a day off to volunteer with Poe’s archaeological surveys. On the flip side, I hated the constant pressure to keep the business afloat, dealing with unsavory clients, and the boredom of what was often no more challenging than a clerk’s job. And I wasn’t forgetting my recent brush with death.

  There’s an old joke about a circus worker who cleans up after the elephants and constantly complains about his nasty job. When he’s asked why he doesn’t quit and find another job, he responds with, what, and leave show business? Maybe I was like that circus worker.

  Laurance’s offer had a lot of appeal, but I couldn’t drop everything and climb aboard his jet in the morning. I owed it to Poe and Erin Marrano to see this case to the end. My internal alarm system told me I was close. But close to what? Close to who? If I forced myself to write a progress report it would be filled with gaping holes and wild speculation.

  I chugged the last swallow of beer and set the bottle down. Spatters of rain pelted the nearly empty sidewalks of First Street. I looked at my watch. 7:10. Less than two hours before I had to call Laurance and give him my answer.

  My intentions were to drink at least one more beer while I pondered the pros and cons of hitching up with Florida’s next governor. Before I could return for a second bottle, my phone rang.

  “Hello, Jack,” I answered after checking the Caller ID. “Did you dig up anything else?”

  “Your hunch was right, sailor,” Fuller said in his Mississippi accent. I listened carefully as he gave me his report. I followed up with a few questions before thanking him for his efforts.

  I pulled my spare .38 from the top shelf of my closet. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to St. Augustine.

  ***

  Rain peppered my windshield with fat, oily drops that flattened and scurried to the side like roaches hiding from the light. The weather forecast called for the storm to break later, but I saw no sign of a let-up as I drove along A1A.

  I used my handkerchief to clear the condensation accumulating on the inside of my windshield. The sky looked as bruised as my face. Thunder rumbled in from the south as the rain fell even harder.

  Fuller’s research had uncovered a missing piece to the puzzle, and in my head I heard the sweet soun
d of the silver ball hitting its target. Still, there were questions to be answered and motives deciphered. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made—in a perverted sort of way.

  Some of the pieces would have to wait until later, but now I saw how I’d been led astray by Marrano’s and Poe’s feud over the condo and hotel project.

  I stopped at the traffic signal on San Marco, the lights from the merry-go-round across the street glowing lurid and spectral through my rain-streaked windshield. While I waited for the light to change, I called the St. Augustine Police Department and asked for Sergeant Marrano.

  “I’m sorry,” a nasally voice answered, “but he’s on his dinner break. Do you want his voice mail?”

  “Can you give me his cell phone number?”

  “No, we can’t give out that information.”

  I thought about asking for Horgan, but after Marrano saved my life I felt he should be the first one to know who killed his brother. I left him a message telling him I was on my way to Henderson’s house, and to call me as soon as possible.

  If I’d known what the evening had in store for me, I would have waited for Lt. Marrano to call.

  ***

  Outside lights shimmered through the pouring rain, but the interior of Henderson’s house was dark. I sat in my car for a moment trying to decide what to do. Should I wait for Marrano to call me back or take some action on my own? Finally, I grabbed the .38 and stuck it into my waistband under my water-repellent windbreaker. Running through the rain to the welcome relief of the overhang, I banged on the door, hollering, “Jarrod, its Quint.”

  No answer.

  I twisted the door handle. Locked. I continued knocking and calling for Watts. Either he wasn’t home or didn’t want company. Back in my car, I watched the house for a minute or two more. Rain dripped from my body, blending with my sweat and soaking the seat. I stared at the console clock unsure of what to do next, willing Buck Marrano to call. This was stupid. Buck had been clinging to me like a cold sore for the past week, but when I needed him most he goes AWOL.