by Jon Mills
“It’s nice.”
“I didn’t pay for it. Just another perk of the business.” She filled Karla’s glass to the rim and then got up and went into her bedroom. When she returned she came out with a small bag of white powder. She dangled it in front of her face.
“And that’s not the only perk.”
Chapter Seven
Ray Edmonds wiped his hands clean of the blood. He was getting tired of killing them but he chose to be the one to do it. He handled it like any other part of his business. It didn’t matter that he had millions or that he could retire at any minute. All the money in the world couldn’t buy the feeling that he got when someone pleaded for their life. You couldn’t put a figure on that. No, business was good even if it did get messy at times.
He stepped back from the girl’s limp body. It would have been easier to hire his men to drive the packages into Miami but he knew how the police treated junkies — that’s why he hired them. If they weren’t already on drugs when they were brought in, he made damn sure they were by the time they left. Forced, coerced, they could call it whatever they liked. It was a matter of control. He’d seen pimps try and force their girls into work through violence but that wasn’t his way. Violence was a last resort. Contrary to what others might have said about him, he didn’t enjoy killing. But, at times it was the only way to silence them. No, it was easier to get them hooked on heroin as he had an abundance of it coming in and it was a cheap way to keep them toeing the line.
And oh, how they needed to toe the line.
He stared at her body on the floor and his right-hand man, Thomas, held out a bag for the wire that he’d used to kill her. Usually he didn’t get blood on him but her skin had been thin and he’d miscalculated how much force to use.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?”
“That it is.”
“She was one of my best. I practically raised her,” he said. “Get her out of here, make sure her body is fed to the alligators this time.” He scowled at Thomas. He’d already caught wind of the other bodies being discovered by the feds. How they’d learned about it was still a mystery, as the bodies weren’t placed in in the open. He was under the assumption they had become fodder for the gators. Was someone in his organization a snitch? They hadn’t seen any loss of product so he assumed that wasn’t the case. But if it came to his attention that someone had been ratting him out, he would make damn sure they regretted it. He hadn’t built this organization to see it all crumble overnight.
He continued wiping his hands and then went around the back of his table in his office to pour himself a drink. In the reflection of the window he saw Thomas and two other men wrap up the girl’s body in plastic.
He gazed out the window of his newly built condominium building on the south side of Chokoloskee Island. It was twenty stories high. It was going to be used to entertain guests from Colombia, and as a cover for his operation. He’d been meaning to build it for several years but had never got around to it. Eventually when an opportunity opened to purchase land, he ended up in the courts, fighting with a local family because he’d blocked off access to the road that led up to their store. They saw it as a violation of their rights. According to them, they were there first. And they were right, but that didn’t mean that the road didn’t cut through his property. He wanted them gone and he was more than willing to fight them on it. Eventually he offered to build another road on the east side but they tossed it back in his face. So, he had been locking heads with them ever since. He knew it was only a matter of time before they ran out of money to pay for lawyers, whereas he had more than enough.
Ray pulled out a Cuban cigar, snipped the end off with a steel cutter, then lit it. It burned a hot orange, and gray smoke filled the area around him. He waved his hand to get a better view of his empire. From his office he could see right out across the Gulf Coast, off to his left was the charter business of the Mitchell brothers, and to his right Ted’s Smallwood Store.
As good as it was, it wasn’t always like this. At one time he was nothing more than a developer. He owned several properties in Miami and Tampa. While the money was good, it didn’t even come close to what he pulled in now. With one hand in the drug business and the other operating under the guise of being a developer — it was the perfect cover. Nine years had passed without being caught, though it hadn’t come without a hefty price. He had considered paying off a few people in the Coast Guard but it would have meant jeopardizing his operation. It was a fine line to walk and one that meant treading carefully.
He took a seat at his table and made a quick phone call to one of his buyers in Miami. While coke wasn’t in such high demand as it was back in the eighties, the heroin market was still booming. Its addictive nature meant that he was forever getting new clients. Of course he never touched the stuff. No, his head had to remain clear. Too often he’d seen friends of his who were in the drug business succumb to the idea that they could handle it. None of them could. Most wound up in rehab or worse — dead.
Instead he just dabbled in a little coke from time to time.
After making sure that they had received exactly what was sent, he placed a call to his wife, Tonya. She had no idea what he did. He made a point of not telling her because he feared that one day it could be her body that was being wrapped in plastic and dumped in the Everglades.
Trust was earned and there were very few in his inner circle that he had learned to trust. He didn’t just hire anyone. They had to come recommended. It was done by word of mouth. The Mitchell brothers, Thomas and a handful of others were the only ones he could trust. All of which meant his operation couldn’t grow too large.
“Tonya, how are you, darling?”
“My mother is down for the day, the kids are asking about you. You going to be back tonight?”
“I might be running a bit late. Give the kids a kiss from me.”
“Ray. Come on. I’m sure business can wait.”
Business could never wait. It was always pulling at his coattails on his way out the door. No matter how much he tried to pull himself away from it. He needed to stay at the helm and make sure that everything was running smoothly. It could be said that he’d become overly paranoid as of late, with the discovery of the girls’ bodies and all that could mean. It meant the feds might come poking their nose around and asking questions.
As for the mules who carried the goods, he rarely saw them. He left recruitment up to Anna-Belle and she was damn good at it. He’d made it clear from the get-go that at no point were the girls to mention his name to anyone. There had only been a few who had, and they were disposed of quickly. Anna-Belle had already received a warning, and he’d told her that if it happened again he would deal with her. She knew what that meant.
“Look, I’ll try to get back by nine but no promises. Okay?”
He heard her sigh on the other end. There were very few people that he truly didn’t want to hurt, Tonya was one of them. She was the mother of his children and the only one that he respected. The rest of his crew were throwaways. Replaceable. And he would replace them if it jeopardized his operation. In his mind he was building his children’s future. He didn’t want them to get caught up in the world of narcotics. It was a dangerous game and one that had become even more dangerous over the past twenty years.
He’d just got off the phone with his wife when his secretary buzzed him. “Mr. Edmonds. I have an Anna-Belle and a Karla Maurice here to see you.”
“Thank you, Silvia, go ahead and let them in.”
He glanced at his hands to make sure all the blood was gone and did one quick check over his shirt before the double doors opened.
“Ray baby!”
He smiled and rose from his seat as Anna-Belle came waltzing in with all the life of a Broadway dancer. She did her usual jig, and strolled over and gave him a big hug and kiss. He’d known her since she was fifteen. He’d met her back when she was panhandling on the streets of Tampa. She and other street dwellers used to pl
ant themselves in front of the laundry ventilation system that pumped out of his Tampa property. Anyway, it had been brought to his attention on numerous occasions by security; eventually he decided to take matters into his own hands. Back then he wasn’t as threatening as he was today. Time had changed him, as had the business he was now in.
It was her spirit that made her stand out. Even after all the others had run off, she remained. And it didn’t matter what he said to her, she had an answer for everything. At first he was going to have her arrested but that wouldn’t have changed things. She would have been back out there the moment they released her. He could see it in her eyes. An act of defiance. There was strength to the girl and he could use that. Instead he invited her in, gave her a bed for a few nights while he got to know her and well… she never left.
With one arm wrapped around her waist, he let his eyes drift to the dark-haired girl that she’d brought along. She had crystal blue eyes and sharp features and one glance up and down and he already knew the clients that would be interested. Like a Rolodex in his head, his mind churned over at the thought of fresh meat.
“So who do we have here?”
In Anna-Belle’s usual flamboyant fashion she slid over to the girl and placed her hands on her shoulders. “This is Karla Maurice. She’s looking for a job.”
“Well then you’ve come to the right place. I just had a vacancy open up.” He looked down at his fingers and noticed a small trace of blood stuck under his nail. He rubbed it a few times and it smeared into his skin.
“Come, sit, let me get you girls some drinks and you can tell me about yourself.”
He turned to head over to the drinks and he heard Anna-Belle speak in a low voice to Karla. “See, I told you. You are going to love this.”
Oh she was going to love it but not as much as him. He returned with two glasses of wine before leaning back against the table. Karla looked nervous; they all did when they came in. None of them thought they were getting into prostitution, they all thought they were going to be driving a car, and they were but not before they put out a few times and were hooked on heroin. It was a rite of passage, so to speak, a means of breaking them down and getting them to comply.
“So Karla, tell me about your dreams.”
He loved to ask them that question. They would come up with all kinds of bullshit. I want to be an actress, a dancer, a singer, the list went on. At times it was hard to contain himself. While they were telling him, he was thinking about how much they were going to earn him. Every single one of them had dollar figures hovering over their heads.
“I don’t have any dreams.”
That was her response. He couldn’t believe his ears. They all had dreams and for some reason or another they thought he was going to be the ticket to easy street.
He stifled a laugh. “Come on now, everyone has dreams.”
“I don’t. I just need a job.”
He pursed his lips before tossing back his wine. This was interesting. He liked a challenge. He could see the defiance in her eyes. It wasn’t a sense of entitlement. No, her clothes gave away what kind of lifestyle she led but it was the way she stood. Almost reminded him of Anna-Belle. She was a fiery one and would be until he got her hooked on cocaine. Somehow that seemed to mellow them out. Refocus them. The job became second place to the need for that next fix.
“And I’ve got a job for you. I gather Anna-Belle explained what was involved.”
“Yeah. Transporting drugs.”
Ray looked at Anna-Belle and she just tossed up her hands.
“I didn’t say that. That was all her.”
He shook his head, then glared at her. “Right.”
He’d had this conversation with her countless times. She always went overboard telling them how much money they were going to make. He didn’t want them to think it was anything more than a typical driving job. But oh no, Anna-Belle had to lay it on thick. That’s why she was good at getting him girls. But that was also why some ended up running off at the mouth.
Ray got closer. He liked to see how they reacted when he got near. You could tell a lot about a person by getting close. Specifically stepping into their space. Whatever front they tried to put on would usually fall away when he got close enough that they could feel his breath against their skin.
The closer he got, he noticed that she didn’t flinch or move even a little. Oh, he was going to have to keep an eye on this one for sure. Perhaps he would break her in himself.
“And you’re up for that challenge, are you?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
He moved back over to his table and took out some coke, and sat down to cut some lines.
“Well come on then.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
She glanced down at the line after he snorted his, and Anna-Belle followed suit. They wiped their noses with the back of their hands.
“Is that necessary?”
This girl was starting to piss him off. “If I can’t trust you with a line, how can I trust you with more?”
She stared down at the white powder and nodded. Slowly she made her way over and with a little hesitation, she bent at the waist and snorted. “That’s a girl. Now you’ve got the job.”
Chapter Eight
“So run this by me again. He doesn’t want us interviewing the families?” Jack asked.
Isabel glanced over to him as she drove the black Chevy, filled with some personal belongings, towards the island. The FBI had rented out a permanent mobile home in Chokoloskee Island Park on the west side, and had already established pseudonyms and a small fishing charter business called Captain Jack Redford Charters.
“So?” Jack probed her again.
Isabel didn’t reply, she was still fuming. She gripped the wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white.
“This isn’t exactly a murder investigation.”
“And yet we are trying to establish who’s murdering these girls.”
“They don’t give a shit about them, Jack. This is about saving face. The drugs entering Miami have been a huge problem over the past few years so the DEA has stepped up their game and have been working overtime ever since.”
“And they think those girls are drug mules?”
“Exactly,” she said turning her head ever so slightly. She was wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses. Rays of sunshine reflected off them causing him to squint. The frown on her forehead hadn’t vanished since leaving. He didn’t understand it. Considering what they could have done to her, she got off easily.
Jack on the other hand was at ease. They’d actually made his life a lot easier. It was a lot of work tracking down jobs, and not all of them paid well. Not that he minded. In many ways he couldn’t believe his luck. The FBI, paying me to be an informant? He snorted. It was almost too good to be true. Of course he didn’t think it was going to be a long-term gig. He was still trying to make sense of it.
Jack squinted and raised a cupped hand over his eyes to block the glare. “You okay?”
She shook her head ever so slightly “He’s going to be riding me on this until the end of time.”
“Well that’s better than doing time,” Jack replied, returning to gazing out the window. He had to admit that was a doozy of a bombshell they dropped on him. The fact that they were using her as leverage to ensure that he didn’t bolt was unbelievable but smart. He glanced over at her again and considered what that would mean. Of course he didn’t intend to work for the FBI for the rest of his life, and if Agent Dipshit had been totally honest, there was no way on God’s green earth they were going to keep him on payroll. He knew they were dangling money in front of him simply to get him to toe the line. It wasn’t a reward but a means of convincing him. In their minds he was a criminal and he always would be.
Jack had his bare feet sticking out the window and he was leaning back taking in the view of the causeway as they crossed over from Everglades City. A be
autiful blue sky stretched out before them. Nothing but sandy hard shoulders, and green shrubs. The water glistened in the noonday sun. The temperatures were hovering in the mid eighties. He glanced at his reflection in the side mirror, and adjusted his Cabana straw hat. That morning they had been out purchasing clothes that would help them blend in with the locals.
“Why are you so damn relaxed?”
“How can you not be? Look around you, Isabel. After you’ve been inside the walls of a prison, believe me you begin to appreciate the simple things in life. You no longer sweat the small stuff and this is small.”
“Small? Have you any idea what they are doing? They are throwing us like lambs to the slaughter. They know full well that if they sent in an agent to deal with this case they would more than likely go missing. I know you’ve dealt with serious shit but these coke and heroin dealers don’t screw around. One mistake and we are both dead, and you can be sure that any record of our existence will be scratched out.”
Jack snorted finding her overly dramatic reaction humorous.
“You think this is funny?”
“No, I think you are. You’re pissed because they found out. You’re pissed because your partner threw you under the bus. You’re pissed because I’m not getting all bent out of shape, like you are.”
She swerved off to the hard shoulder and a plume of sandy dust rose around the vehicle.
“Do you know why I left the San Francisco police and joined the FBI?”
“Enlighten me,” he replied.
Isabel glanced out as several bikes shot by. “You asked me a few weeks back if I was ever married. I was engaged to another cop in the department. While I was working the street as an officer he got assigned to the gang enforcement team. Essentially the focus of their work was to go undercover and gather intel on the gangs distributing narcotics on the street.” She paused as if unearthing a painful memory. “He was shot and killed in the line of duty.”