“Hey, don’t blame me,” she said.
“I didn’t say that. I said you didn’t have to run off and hide. Look, if you really want to help, give me something solid to go on. Something to help narrow the field down some. None of that thirty something, average looking crap. I want to know what motivates this nut case. Why is he doing this? What caused him to suddenly start killing people? If you can do that, profilers will take a big jump on my hit parade list.”
“And if I can’t?”
“You won’t climb any but you won’t go down either.”
“That’s assuring,” Jean said.
“It’s hard to go below the bottom,” I replied as I headed for my desk.
I worked on the report for the Commissioner for the next hour and ended up with three pages of single spaced notes. I was thankful for two things. Spell check and Dan. That is, after he stopped laughing at my grammar. The English language is way too complicated. Why do we have so many words to cover the same thing? Their, there and they’re. Just pick one and use it all the time. Wouldn’t that be much simpler? Anyway, he made the corrections and I took it into McGregor who read it over and put his two cents worth in. It got to the Commissioner in plenty of time.
I was changing into my presentable clothes when the call from Constable Pettigrew came in.
“Detective Bartoni. I am returning your call.”
“Thank you. Has anything turned up on James Baron yet?”
“Nothing I’m afraid. We checked his hotel room and nothing is in the room. We found his rental Jeep at the Cayman Kai Marina over near Rum Point. It’s on the far side of the island. It seems he had a boat named the TWIN SCREWS anchored there. We checked onboard but he wasn’t there. What we did find was that the tanks were not only topped off but he had two fifty-five diesel bladders of fuel on the stern as well. I would say he was planning to return to the United States by boat.”
“Can you do that from where you are?”
“I don’t see why not. The boat has everything he would need. Weather radar, GPS, autopilot and such. With the amount of fuel on board he could make it as far as, oh I don’t know, maybe Marathon Key. Someplace in that area. He could then take on more fuel and who knows where he would end up?” Pettigrew said.
“Why would he do that? Why not just fly back? A boat seems kind of risky to me.”
“We chatted up some of the workers at the docks and they said a truck with a couple of crates came to the pier looking for a man named Andrew Kramer but that is not who the boat is registered to.
“Andrew Kramer? Son-of-a-gun. He must be going by that name while he is there.”
“He checked in the hotel as James Baron,” the Constable said.
“Yes, but we think he went there to clean out some bank accounts and one of them happened to belong to Andrew Kramer and maybe some others. Do you know what was in the crates?”
“Not a clue. Sorry, we simply haven’t had time to check out that part. We did get the name of the company that delivered the goods. We will check it out after things calm down a bit here,” Pettigrew said.
“Yes, Mrs. McDonalds said you had a murder investigation going on.”
“Indeed we do. We don’t have many of these down here. I would imagine our force is considerably smaller than yours.”
“How many do you have?”
“Nine on the main island, two on Cayman Brock and one that oversees any trouble we have on Little Cayman which is hardly ever.”
“I know I’m going to hate myself for asking this but what is the temperature there right now?”
“Kind of cool for us. Today it was 25 degrees Celsius,” Pettigrew told me.
“That’s what? You take Celsius and multiply it times three and get close so that makes it around 75 or 76 degrees? I knew I would hate myself for asking.”
“Well, we could always use another good constable if you are ever down this way.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Best of luck on your murder case. Hopefully you’ll get to the bottom of it pretty quickly,” I said.
“It is not often you find a victim with their head cut off and the flesh removed. Bloody strange, this one.
“Flesh removed?”
“Yes. Just the skull but the body was still intact. Well, more or less. The hands look like they had been dipped in acid. Just bones.”
“Constable Pettigrew, did you happen to find a note?”
“Yes. How did you know that? It was a quote from Shakespeare. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“I think you may have just found James Baron.”
“I don’t think I understand. How would you know all of this when you are in Indiana in the United States? I do not know where that is even located, by the way.”
“Tell me what the note said first and I’ll be happy to fill you in on everything.”
“Here it is,” he said reading the passage;
I have done a thousand dreadful things as willingly as one would kill a fly and nothing grieves me heartily indeed but that I cannot do ten thousand more.
“You’re sure that’s from Shakespeare?” I asked.
“Most certainly. Titus Andronicus. Not one of his more famous works but quite interesting nevertheless.”
“If you say so. Okay, here is what we are working on,” I said and proceed to give what background we had so far.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“You are telling me that this madman followed Baron to the Cayman Islands, chopped his head off and flew back to the US and no one saw a doggone thing?” the Commissioner roared.
He was in a particularly foul mood at the moment.
“What are you people doing over there, sitting around on your thumbs?”
It was a rhetorical question so on one bothered to speak up. It was better to let him rant at this point. With any luck he would have a coronary and we would all get out of the office alive. No such luck, he continued on for another fifteen minutes before he finally ran out of steam.
Finally I took the plunge, “Commissioner, if it helps any at all, we checked all the flights that left Indianapolis immediately after Baron left and for the next twenty-four hours. Eleven people went to the Caymans, seven by way of Miami and four through Tampa. Constable Pettigrew has checked on nine of them so far and all have been cleared. One had missed his cruise ship out of Miami, hopped a flight out of Miami and caught up with it in Grand Cayman. That only leaves one other person whom he has not located yet but from the passport they seem unlikely. It is a sixty-three year old woman who does marine biology studies each year in the waters around the islands.”
“So who the hell killed him then, Shakespeare?”
“I don’t think so but you never know. Have you ever have to sit through one of those plays? They could bore you to death,” I suggested. He failed to appreciate my attempt at humor.
“The Constable told me that in the Islands there is a man who does contract murders. They say is name is Carlos. He is some kind of a local superstition type thing. Whatever. I personally think that is a crock. There is no way anyone could have arranged something like that from the US so quickly. Something else is going on,” I said.
“Something else? Great. I can see it now. ‘Commissioner, why do you think James Baron was killed? Oh we think something else was going on. We don’t have a frickin clue as to what, but something’.”
Oops, should have just kept my mouth shut. I get that a lot.
“Just passing it along,” I said meekly.
“Big help,” he muttered, “You said a truck showed up with some crates. What was in the crates and where are they now?” the Commissioner asked.
“They are checking on it right now. They got the name of the trucking company. Someone at the marina was able to give them the name on the truck and they are investigating. I hope to hear from them before the day is over.”
“I want to know just as soon as you hear anything. Maybe we can actually have something to tell the media for a chan
ge,” he said.
I wanted to point out that he was the one that called for the press conference but that didn’t seem like a real good idea at the present time.
“Any surprises lurking in the bushes? Something one of the media people knows that I don’t know about? I don’t want to get bushwhacked this afternoon,” he said.
“You have everything I have,” I told him.
“I damn sure better,” was all he said and sent us out of the office so he could huddle with the captain.
* * *
“You’re absolutely sure the name on the side of the truck was Tibbett’s Freight?”
“I can read. It said Tibbett’s clear as day. It was sitting right over there under those trees. First a guy got out and went up to that big boat over there and then a little while later two more guys went to the boat. I didn’t ever see them leave but when I came out of The Cave the truck was gone.”
The man was disheveled and wearing an old faded shirt that was dirty and tattered. His shorts looked like they had not been washed in weeks, if not months. He had no shoes and probably slept on the beach most of the time.
“Mr. Zollie, why would you notice such a thing? The truck and all? People don’t pay much attention to much that goes on around here at Rum Point,” Constable Egar asked.
“They backed over my trash can,” he said, scratching his scraggly beard.
“Your trash can?” the officer said looking at him like he had lost his mind.
“My favorite trash can. See that one there,” he pointed to a crumpled up trash can, “People coming out of the bar toss most of their bottles and cans in that one cause its closest to the door of The Cave bar. I get them out every morning and the barkeeper gives me five cents for each bottle and ten cents for each box of aluminum cans I fill up. Those dumbasses smashed my trash can,” he said.
The two Constables just looked at each other and shook their heads.
“That oughta be worth somethin don’t ya think?” he said, holding out his hand.
“If I give you money, you will use it to get a good meal, right?”
“Oh sure. You bet. I ain’t et in a while. A good meal would do me good,” he said licking his lips.
“Here’s a fiver. Now don’t use it to drink. Get some grub, understand?”
“Right you are. Thank ye officer. Bless you both,” he said backing away.
He kissed the bill and tucked it in his pocket.
“He’ll go straight to the bar,” Officer Larkins said.
“Probably.”
They gave their report to Pettigrew and he assigned them to track down the truck and find out why they were at Rum Point and why the men were on the TWIN SCREWS.
* * *
“So where do you think they went?”
“On this Island? How far could they get? Let’s head down North Side Highway and follow Queen’s Highway around to Frank’s Sound. If we don’t spot them there they are either in Bodden Town or have headed back to Georgetown. Why don’t you call Marissa and have her find out where they are based out of,” Constable Egar said.
“Right,” he said.
A few minutes later she radioed back to inform them that they had a warehouse at 950 Crewe Road just a few yards from where Shamrock and South Sound Road split.
“Thanks Marissa. I know the area. Not far from the Lion’s Community Center.”
“Yes. That’s the area.”
“You’re a sweetie,” Larkins replied, knowing that it would make her blush.
“See anything yet?”
“Sand and sea.”
“Imagine that.”
“Wait. What’s that up there?”
“Where?”
“At the bend. See out by that boathouse? A truck. Backed up to the pier. We need to check it out.”
“I can’t read the name on it if it even has one,” Larkins said.
“Then we need to check it out for sure don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.”
They turned off onto the private drive and followed it back to the boat dock. The name on the side was Tibbett’s Freight. Constable Egar pointed to the name on the side door. Constable Larkins nodded. They slowly made their way to the back of the truck but no one was around. There was no boat at the pier either.
“Better check out the boathouse,” Larkins said, carefully opening the door.
“Oh bloody hell.”
“What?”
“Better call the Chief. He isn’t going to like this one bit,” Larkins said, opening the door so Egar could see the three bodies lying on the floor.
“You want to call him or do you want me to do it?” Egar asked.
“You’re the senior man, I think you should call,” Larkins said.
* * *
“Bloody hell. What are you talking about man? Are you telling me you have three more dead bodies?”
“I’m afraid so Chief. We found them out here at Spotter’s Point in the boathouse. There is no boat and the truck is empty. No ID on the victims but I would imagine one of them is Marco Tibbett. The truck’s registration is listed in that name. Marissa is running a check to see who works there and finding out all she can about the company. The area has been roped off and as soon as you can get someone out here we will go check out the warehouse,” Egar said.
“I’m on my way now. I’m on Sea View, just coming up on the blow holes so it won’t be much longer now. I have Keen and MacAfee coming as well. They are about five minutes behind me.”
“Understood. Out.”
‘What in the world is going on?’ Pettigrew thought to himself. Suddenly people were being murdered at an unprecedented rate. None of it made sense. What was triggering all of this? Money? Drugs? Whatever it was he had to get to the bottom of it and fast. No more people were going to die here while he was Chief Constable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The media was out for blood. It was a feeding frenzy and we were the fresh meat. It was hard to blame them this time. Mrs. Baron was dead and now it appeared that Mr. Baron had been murdered as well and we were no closer to an answer than the last time we talked to them. They were pretty rough on everyone. They wanted answers and frankly we didn’t have squat to give them. We all left with our tails tucked between our legs.
“That was a slaughter,” McGregor said after we got back to the station.
“I guess it goes without saying, you had better have some valid answers before the next conference or some asses are going to be up between some shoulders,” the Commissioner said.
I always wonder about a statement like that. If it goes without saying, why do people always go ahead and say it? Anyway, we already had pretty much figured that out for ourselves. The problem was we didn’t know where to start.
“Anything from the guy in the Cayman Islands yet?”
“Not yet. I could give him another call,” I replied.
“Do it,” the captain said.
He was tense. The Commissioner was hanging around way too much and it showed no sign of getting better anytime soon. I called the good Constable. Marissa answered.
“I can put you through. He is having an awful time. My goodness, I just don’t know what’s going on around here,” she said.
“I hate to bother him but I would appreciate it if you could let me speak to him for just a minute.”
“Hold on. It will take me a second,” she said.
She was right. I thought she had hung up but finally she must have figured it out.
“Yes,” a rather gruff voice said.
“Constable Pettigrew? Detective Bartoni.”
“Yes. I am aware of who it is. What can I do for you Detective?”
“Did I get you at a bad time?”
“You could bloody well say that.”
“Maybe I should call back.”
“No. No. It’s alright. Sorry. I’m just a bit frazzled at the moment. We seem to be having a crime wave. It’s probably nothing by your standards but we simply aren’t
used to it and frankly I’m not sure how to handle it all.”
“What happened?”
“Well, we found the truck that was at the TWIN SCREWS but unfortunately the three men that were with the truck are dead now,” he said.
A long silence followed. This was getting curiouser and curiouser as Alice says in Wonderland.
“Were their heads cut off?” I finally asked.
“Oh no. Nothing so fancy. Just a hole in their backs going out through the heart. Quite civilized.”
“A sword probably,” I said.
“A sword? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do we yet. Someone has been going around killing people with a sword here and now it appears they are in the Caymans.”
“I must say, this is very bizarre,” Pettigrew said.
“Indeed it is. And the crates? Any clue as to what was in them?” I asked
“Afraid not. They seem to have vanished. Probably loaded onto another boat. We are trying to run that down now.”
“Thank you Chief Constable. If I can do anything to help in any way, please call,” I offered.
“Yes, well I do appreciate the offer,” he said and hung up.
“That did not sound good,” McGregor said after I hung up.
“Another dead end. Literally,” I replied.
“So what’s your plan?” the Commissioner asked me.
“Honestly, I don’t know. His last message was pretty generic. I mean, it doesn’t seem to point to anyone person in particular. It sounds like to me that he is just getting started. Maybe they were the first and now he is going to try to set the world right as he sees it. He is a nut case; how in the world can we know what he is going to do next?”
“More to the point. How did he have Baron killed in the Cayman Islands?” the Commissioner asked.
“You know Commissioner, that really is a key question. I said he couldn’t have arranged it but maybe he was able get someone on the island to arrange it for him. We know Baron went there to close out Kramer’s account. How much money did he have? Was it money in those crates? Four people are suddenly dead on a small island and that just doesn’t happen. Something triggered it and it all has to do with Baron’s arrival.”
THE SHAKESPEARE MURDERS Page 11