The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  An interesting bunch, Anniston mused as she moved on to Mayor Dave Oakerson. She found another guy deeply in debt, a public figure who had for the past four election cycles taken sizeable political donations from Royce Buchanan. That wouldn’t be so bad if part of the cash hadn’t started showing up in his personal checking account in increments of nine grand a pop. In turn, Oakerson had invested a sizeable portion of the money into the land deal in hopes the golf course would become an actuality. An interesting side note for the mayor, who needed cash fast, and had the town’s funds within his daily grasp.

  Not such an idyllic little island after all, she decided. She got up to grab a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge she’d stocked with various staples and took the time to stare out the window onto the beach. One question kept nagging at her. How had so many felons landed on Indigo Key and selected it to make a fresh start? Or had someone brought them to the island years earlier with one purpose in mind?

  Chapter Four - Heat

  An hour later, she was still going over the data when she heard a knock at the door. She glanced at the clock. In her mind it was way too late for visitors to come calling. Dressed in a pair of pale blue pajamas, she grabbed her Smith & Wesson off the nightstand and moved to check the peephole.

  And saw a downhearted and forlorn Garret standing outside her door.

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” She flipped the deadbolt, slid the chain aside, and opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice weapon. Even nicer PJs.” He ran a slim finger from her throat down to her neck. “The soft blue brings out your olive skin. I’m sorry to show up like this without calling but I was afraid you’d tell me to go away.”

  “Insightful. Go away, Garret.” No sooner had the words escaped her lips than she regretted her coldness. “What’s wrong? Has something else happened?”

  “I had to get out of the house. The atmosphere was brutal—neighbors stopping by, bickering over theories and the like. I thought you might want to go out with me and get something to eat.”

  “Garret, it’s after ten o’clock. I ate supper hours ago.”

  “Okay. You have a minibar, though, right? Unless they changed it up from the last time I stayed here. I’ll settle for a bag of macadamia nuts and a beer. Besides, I brought something you should see.”

  She raised an eyebrow, realized he was serious. He clutched Livvy’s Day-Timer he’d found that morning to his chest like a prized possession. “Oh really. Well, come on in then. I can rustle up room service. They’re open until midnight.”

  She reached for the menu on top of the TV. “What would you like? They fix a decent burger and fries.”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Come to think of it, I’m not all that hungry.” He handed her the day planner. “You should read this. No one else but Jackson knows what’s in there. Not Mom, not Dad. Not Mitch. That’s why all their theories about what happened to the family started getting to me. It seems Livvy and Nathan Hollister were having a down and dirty affair.”

  “The bank guy? But you said this was from three years ago.”

  “It is.” He let the implication land and hit its mark.

  Her mouth fell open as she flipped through several pages, read a few calendar entries and noted the meeting places. “No wonder it was hidden behind the water heater. This stuff is…hot.”

  He crossed to the minibar, picked out a bottle of Rolling Rock, twisted off the cap. “There are dates, places, intimate details in the calendar portion. I’d say this might be in the running to top whatever Walker was doing down in Miami. Just don’t mention this to anyone else until we’re ready to pop the news out of a cannon.”

  Guzzling his beer, he roamed the suite. “There’s more.”

  “Why am I not surprised? There’s always more.”

  “Jackson says Nathan left on a business trip right before he and Tessa took off for Ryan’s funeral. Nathan told his wife there was a banker’s convention in Denver.” He went on, “No such animal. Nathan’s now been MIA for almost five days, won’t return Jackson’s phone calls or emails.”

  Anniston plopped down on the bed, reached for her laptop. “If he left the island by commercial airliner I’ll be able to track his whereabouts. That is, if he used his credit card. Has his wife filed a missing persons report yet?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Which is weird. Don’t you think?”

  “This case is jam-packed with weird.”

  “Yeah. Well, I think this whole thing is starting to make me a little crazy. I’m used to my orderly life, my schedule, my routine. Now I come back home and hit this chaotic wall. I don’t think I’m handling it very well.”

  She huffed out a breath. “I hear ya. My brother may come down from Daytona to help me out when he’s done there. I don’t like the idea of it, but this case is…I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”

  “I guess we’re all struggling with the enormity of it.” He took out his smartphone. “When I was waiting at the airfield, I tried to write it all down in my notes. My fingers started to cramp up because it took so long.”

  Her lips bowed up. “I have twenty pages of notes and created another ten spreadsheets on this case. And we’re talking about less than three weeks in.” She went to the mini-fridge she’d stocked with her own brand of beer and popped the top, then drank down a generous amount.

  Garret frowned. “What is that? You have your own beer?”

  “I don’t like the crap in the minibar. I mean Rolling Rock, really? I brought my own.”

  He took the can out of her hand, read the label. “Big Rod Coconut Ale.” He slammed back a slug and made a face. “Not bad, but a little too sweet for me. What else do you have in there?”

  “Red ale, another Miami favorite.”

  “I’ll try that.”

  She reached back inside, grabbed a bottle of the brew, and took out the bottle opener from the nightstand drawer.

  He sampled the taste before taking a second, bigger gulp. “Very good. You’re a mystery to me, Ms. Marcelli.”

  “How so?”

  “Just when I think I have you pegged, you always find a way to surprise me. You brought your own beer.”

  “The fridge came with the room. And I like my brand of beer. I could say the same about you. You aren’t exactly an open book. I went to see Royce today.”

  “Now see, that’s exactly what I mean. And what side of the old man did you get today? Darth Vader, or the faux Jedi? Because that’s about the only two sides the man has.”

  “An interesting way of putting it. You wanted me to check out the house with the potential surveillance value. Turns out, Buchanan owns the rental with the camera, the nonworking variety. It gave me the perfect opportunity to meet him up close and have a chat.”

  She recounted the details of her visit. “He was nothing like I’d envisioned over the phone. I have to tell you, Garret, I think the man’s telling the truth. He comes across as genuinely distraught. Whatever happened to Walker and Livvy, I don’t think he was part of it.”

  “He’s a good con artist, Anniston. One of the best. You shouldn’t believe everything that comes out of his mouth.”

  “I know that,” she stated with some irritation. “You aren’t listening. The face to face gave me an inroad into forming my own opinion. That was before I discovered his right-hand man—that’s his description of Roger Baskin, by the way—has a questionable past.”

  She turned the screen around on her laptop so she could show him the data. “I haven’t had a chance to print this info out yet and probably shouldn’t here at the hotel using the printer in the lobby. But I’ve saved it off into its own file for now. These are the background checks I did on all the players. You aren’t going to like it. This is what I found out about Royce’s chauffeur, mechanic, property manager, and maintenance guy.”

  Garret took a seat on the bed and studied the laptop screen. As he read each line, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Roger Baskin was an enfo
rcer for the Dixie mafia?”

  Anniston tapped the keys to go to the next page. “He followed in his father’s footsteps. Angus Thornton has been locked up in Angola for most of Roger’s life. By the time Roger turned eighteen, he’d been working in the organization for almost a year. He’s been around crime all his life. The question is why would a wealthy guy like Royce need a low-level mob enforcer on his payroll?”

  Ah, Garret thought, so she wasn’t as charmed by the old man as he’d first thought. “Royce obviously set him up in business with his own garage. My guess is he cherry-picked Baskin for his value as a minion, a man who’d do whatever was asked of him, no questions. Somewhere along the way he knew Baskin wouldn’t hesitate to do his dirty work when the situation warranted it.”

  “That’s not all.” She showed him the other bios, sat back, waited for his reaction.

  “My God, Dandridge is nothing more than a con artist. His larceny goes back years. And Oakerson? He’s about as dirty as Jessup Sinclair. In fact, they all have something in their past that might be good blackmail material.”

  “You know, there’s a lot more to you than a pretty face.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that to me. Why is it women never take the time to get to know a man before sticking a label on how dumb he is based on his profession? Or making a judgment call about how much money he has or doesn’t have just by looking at his clothes. Or how—”

  Anniston didn’t let him finish. “Oh, please. Men do the same thing all the time. If they see boobs out to here.” She used both hands to emphasize her chest. “And a good body, they obviously assume the IQ is in the low seventies.”

  He cracked a grin. “So you think I’m basically the hunky athletic type who is woefully intellectually deficient? Is that it?”

  “I think your pretty face hides a very smart guy. Jackson keeps saying how you’re a computer whiz. And you were able to access and download the tracklog coordinates from Walker’s yacht. Not an easy task.”

  He lifted a shoulder, got up from the bed and went over to the fridge for another brew. “That? A piece of cake. A beginner could’ve done it. All I needed was his password and enough time to—”

  “And know-how,” she butted in. “Which you obviously have in spades.”

  “Want another coconut thing?”

  “Sure. Why not? I’m not driving.” She shifted on the bed. “How did you find out about Sinclair’s past?”

  He brought her another can of the stuff she liked and took a seat back on the bed. “I’ve known that since before my senior year. It went down something like this. I was often bored in class and would rather be in the water. But second to that, I loved gaming, computers, spending time on social networks, the usual exploits of a teenage boy. Who didn’t, right? I got to be pretty good on my PC. Anyway, I used to ditch quite a bit back then, I’d always take my laptop with me wherever I went. Since I knew the first place my parents would look was the beach, I’d find a secluded spot, open up my laptop, and cruise online instead. Sometimes I’d look up people that I knew. Sinclair busted me one afternoon, was a real ass about it. That night I went home, in trouble as usual, grounded absolutely, and knocked back in my room. I was pissed off about the bust and ran the old man’s life story, found out how dirty he was as a traffic cop.”

  “But you didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Are you kidding? Why would I? Back then, my father believed I’d likely end up a beach bum at best. My teachers all thought I was just plain stupid. You said it yourself, people in this town looked at me like I was intellectually challenged, a surfer dude with no future to speak of. So who exactly would’ve believed me, of all people, about their beloved police chief?”

  “Okay. You have a point.”

  “The best thing I learned about high school is that it’s a phase. You get pigeonholed as dumb, but afterward you get to break out of that and head toward the horizon, soar to any height you want.” He shifted gears. “I’ll tell you what I think. It’s almost like Royce sent out a blast email asking for felons of all shapes and sizes. ‘Want to make a new start? Try Indigo Key. Our little town is open to all phases of new beginnings.’ It’s like he held his own job fair.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what he did. Maybe at some point he looked around and said, ‘I’m outnumbered here. I need more of my own kind to tilt the scales in my favor.’ So he gets his own people to move here.”

  Garret picked up the thread. “Years go by, and before you know it, Buchanan’s people become respectable members of the community: a beloved pastor, a mayor, the top cop, and various business owners. Before long you’ve compiled a list of people who’ll back you up in every way possible. Want a resort or a golf course on protected land? No problem. Line up behind the man who brought you here and do what he says.”

  “We could follow that line of thought. Your mother is set on getting in Boone’s face anyway.”

  “Tell me about it. That’s one of the reasons I got out of there tonight. They were planning their attack. And that was before you showed me his rap sheet. What do you think she’ll do when she finds out he bilked old ladies out of their cash in another state? I’ll tell you what. She’s likely to tear him into pieces before my dad gets hold of him.”

  “When do you plan to tell her about Livvy’s affair?”

  “Oh God. I’ll make Jackson do that. He found out about it first.”

  She found that funny. “That is so like siblings.”

  “What do we do about Nathan’s vanishing act?”

  “Are we leaning that he left on purpose or because of foul play?”

  “On purpose. Didn’t you say you could find out if he used his credit card?”

  “I said I could check the airline manifest. Fine. You want me to do that now?”

  He cocked his head. “Why not? It’s early yet. I get the sense you learned how to hack.”

  “Hack? Me? Not really. But I have a few other tricks up my sleeve that I learned in law enforcement.”

  “I’m having another beer.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Garret Indigo, are you trying to get sloshed in my hotel room?”

  “The night Tessa found out about her brother, she got plastered. It seems like two days have gone by since you walked out on the beach this morning and told me about Livvy and Ally. I don’t want to go back to that house tonight and sleep in Livvy’s old room. I can’t.” He used the bottle opener to lift off the cap, took a long satisfying drink.

  Sympathy moved through her. She patted the side of the bed next to her. “Okay. That was the one card you could’ve played to get you a spot for the night. Platonically speaking, of course. I never get involved with my clients.”

  He sent her one of his charming smiles. “Fine. Then I’ll just fire you. You can work for Jackson and Mitch. How’s that?”

  “Very clever. Not.”

  He sat down on the bed. This time, getting comfortable by scooting back to lean on the headboard and stretching out his legs.

  “You might as well take off your sandals,” Anniston suggested. “Strong-looking toes, by the way.”

  After removing the flip-flops, he began to feel the buzz of the alcohol kick in as he slid in next to her. Mulling over her skill with a keyboard, all the while her fingers clicked away, he started playing with strands of her hair. “You’re very serious when you work.”

  “Murder is serious.”

  “It is. But there has to be a limit to what a person zeroes in on and for how long. I think we’ve reached our quota for the night. Tell me all about Anniston Marcelli—whose grandmother grew up in Anniston, Georgia. Where did the great-grandparents call home?”

  Resigned to his talkative state, she indulged him in what she remembered from her grandmother. “Città di Domodossola, Provincia del Verbano-Cusio-Ossola, a little region surrounded by pretty mountains with a lake nearby, and beautiful countryside.”

  “If I remember my geography correctly, that’s Northern Italy, right?
Near the border of Switzerland? Is that the same town that once broke away from Fascist Italy?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Yes, it is. What are you, some kind of prodigy? How do you know this stuff? The only reason I know is because my mother used to tell me about her grandmother, who spoke very little English. So how would you know the town’s history?”

  “When I travel, I like to go to out of the way places. Tell me about your folks.”

  “Well, my great-grandfather owned some land there, way before the war. But it was taken away from him in a property dispute. After that, the landlord demanded that he pay rent but still work the farmland. He was young and impetuous, not the type to let anyone tell him what to do.”

  “So it’s an inherited trait?”

  She gave him a half-laugh. “I guess so. Anyway, he’d just met my great-grandmother a few weeks earlier, and apparently it was…”

  “Amore a prima vista?”

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Yes, apparently it was love at first sight. But I don’t believe in love at first sight. How is it you speak Italian?”

  “I dabble, a little French, a little Russian, a little Spanish.”

  “Hmm, well, the language thing would make sense because you’ve seen the world.”

  He didn’t want to talk about himself. “So go on with your story.”

  “That’s it, really. They decided to run off one day with the intent to come to America. They ended up passing through Ellis Island sometime in late 1924. My grandmother was born the next year. We often wonder why they decided to settle in Georgia of all places.”

  “That’s easy. Your great-grandfather was used to farming, growing things. He probably looked around for the best land where he could continue to do what he loved. Georgia probably had the most fertile land he could afford.”

  “See, you’re an enigma to me. I’ve told that story about my relatives a hundred times and not one single person has ever come up with a reason like that. You amaze me.”