Deep Six

by D P Lyle

  Starks disconnected his call and slipped his phone into his pocket as we approached.

  “What’ve you got?” Morgan asked.

  “Three dead. Mrs. Macomb out back, the mister and the daughter inside. Each shot. Execution style.”

  “Show me,” Morgan said.

  We followed Starks around the right side of the house, where thick shrubbery marked the property line and isolated the home from the neighbor on that side. The backyard was large and embraced by similar shrubs. A concrete patio stretched the width of the house, shaded by a green-and-white-striped retractable awning. A pair of round wrought-iron tables, each with four chairs, sat at one end, a massive stainless steel grill at the other. Family time at the Macombs had probably been a fun deal. Not anymore. Not ever again.

  A pea gravel path split the yard in half. Flowers, mostly roses, red, yellow, white, and lavender, filled the right side and added a sweet aroma to the air. The left side contained a vegetable garden, neatly rowed with chest-high cornstalks, knee-high tomato plants, and ground-hugging squash vines.

  And then there was the body.

  The late Mrs. Macomb.

  She laid face down, a single entry wound at the base of her skull, a dirt-encrusted trowel near her gloved right hand. Looked like she never saw it coming.

  Nearby a crime scene tech had boxed a shoe print in the soft soil and was pouring dental cement into the rectangle. A coroner’s tech walked up, body bag in one hand.

  “You ready to move the body?” Starks asked.

  “As soon as you give the word,” the tech replied.

  Starks nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “The tracks show two of them,” Starks said. “Came around the left side of the house.” He jerked his chin that way. “Looks like they simply walked up behind her and popped her.”

  “Neighbors see or hear anything?” Ray asked.

  “Nope. Probably used silencers. And the shrubbery might’ve helped muffle any sound.”

  “This definitely wasn’t random,” Ray said. “And these guys definitely aren’t amateurs.”

  Starks shrugged. “Sure looks that way.” He sighed. “Let’s go inside.”

  He headed that way. We followed.

  “No forced entry,” Starks said. “And nothing disturbed inside. Disturbing but not disturbed.”

  That was true. Heather Macomb’s body lay on its side, next to the dining room table. An open history text, spiral notebook, and purple ballpoint on the table, each spattered with blood, bone, and brain fragments. As was the tabletop and the pale-gray carpet near her body. I walked around her corpse, carefully avoiding the bloodstains. Heather had a single entry wound to the back of her head, slightly right of center. Left forehead shattered as if it had exploded from inside. Which is exactly what had happened.

  “Doesn’t look like she saw it coming either,” I said.

  “That’s why I think they used silencers.” Starks rubbed his neck. “I hate this shit.”

  “Where’s Mr. Macomb?” Ray asked.

  “Upstairs. In the shower.”

  We climbed the stairs and then down a hallway to the master bedroom. Nothing out of place. Nothing overturned or ransacked. Not that I expected it would be. This wasn’t a robbery. This was a hit. This was Borkov’s doing. No doubt.

  The bathroom wasn’t so pristine. Macomb lay crumpled in the corner of the white-tiled shower, the wall behind him sprayed with the same crap I had seen around Heather’s body. Blood, bone, and brain tissue. Blood covered his face and an entry wound was visible just beneath his left eye. A blood-soaked towel lay across his chest.

  “Looks like he saw the killers. I suspect he had finished his shower and was drying off when they came in. Tried to protect himself with that towel. There’s a hole in it. Like he raised it to cover his face when he saw the muzzle staring at him.” Starks shrugged. “Didn’t help much.”

  The definition of an understatement.

  “Now we know what Zuma and Boyd were up to while we were at the mall,” I said.

  Ray nodded. “And why they waited until after three o’clock to drop you guys there. Had to wait until Heather was home from school.”

  “Cold blooded,” Morgan said.

  “All that and more,” Ray added.

  “What now?” I asked.

  Morgan jangled what sounded like keys in his pocket. “I think it’s time we had a chat with Borkov and his crew.”

  “You think that’s a good idea?” I asked.

  “No need for stealth any more. Just jump in his face. I want to put pressure on him. Want him to do something stupid.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Won’t know the answer to that until he does it. But one thing I know, criminals make mistakes. And they make big mistakes when under big pressure. Time to apply that pressure.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  VICTOR BORKOV WAS his usual gracious self. Eventually. When Morgan, Ray, and I arrived at the Sea Witch, we were greeted by the dynamic duo of Zuma and Boyd. Acting tough, playing the gate-keepers at the foot of the gangplank, Zuma flexed out trying to look badass. Which I figured he was. Boyd, too. Even Morgan showing his badge got little response. But finally, Borkov came to the rail and invited us on board. Zuma and Boyd turned like saloon doors, allowing us to pass before following us up the ramp. I didn’t like them behind me but I felt better with Ray and Morgan there. Particularly Ray. He was badass, too.

  We settled at the rear deck table where Nicole and I had sat earlier sharing lunch with Borkov. Borkov offered us drinks, which we declined, so he asked what he could do for us.

  “A couple of questions,” Morgan said.

  “Always glad to help the law,” Borkov said as he lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. Casual and relaxed.

  “That’s good to know, Mr. Borkov,” Morgan said.

  “Please. Call me Victor.”

  “What I really want to know, Mr. Borkov,” Morgan said, looking at Zuma and Boyd who stood behind Borkov like good little soldiers, “is where your guys were this afternoon?”

  “Here and there,” Zuma said.

  “I’m more interested in the there than the here,” Morgan said. “After you dropped Grace, Nicole, and Jake at the mall, where’d you go?”

  “Don’t remember,” Zuma said. He looked at Boyd. “You remember?”

  Boyd shrugged. “Shopping.”

  “For what?”

  “This and that.”

  Morgan nodded. “So you were here and there shopping for this and that? That about sum it up?”

  “More or less.” Zuma smiled.

  Borkov puffed his cigar and waved away a cloud of smoke. “What’s this about?”

  “I think you know,” Ray said.

  “I do? What is it you think I know?”

  “How a family ended up dead.”

  “What family might that be?”

  Borkov was cool. I had to give him that. I looked for signs of stress in his face but saw none. He was in charge. Home court. No fear of a mere civil servant like Morgan.

  “The Macombs,” I said. “You know, Darrell Wilbanks’ girlfriend and her parents.”

  “Don’t know them.”

  I looked him in the eye. “But you know, or should I say knew, Darrell and Darnell.”

  “Don’t believe I know them either.”

  “So they weren’t on board a couple of nights ago?” Morgan asked.

  “Don’t know them.”

  Morgan leaned forward. “Look, Borkov, let me lay it out for you. A woman gets killed on The Point. The wife of a guy you’re in some real estate competition with. Then the Wilbanks brothers disappear. From this boat.” Borkov started to say something, but Morgan waved him off. “Then a guy named Raul Gomez absorbs a bullet in his brain. And now, a family goes down.”

  “And this is supposed to mean something to me?” Borkov said through another cloud of smoke.

  “All roads lead to Rome,” Morgan said. “Seems that all these fo
lks end up connected to you.”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know anything about any of this.”

  “We have witnesses that say otherwise.”

  Borkov tapped a long ash into the ashtray near his left elbow. “Where’s Grace?”

  “I thought she was here,” I said.

  Borkov leveled a cold gaze at me. “Last I heard she was with you.”

  “We lost her in the mall,” I said. “I figured she hooked up with these guys and came back here. You’re telling me she didn’t?”

  Borkov stood. “I think we’re done here.”

  “A few more questions,” Morgan said.

  “I don’t like you or your tone. Coming on my property and making accusations.”

  “I haven’t accused you of anything, Mr. Borkov. At least not yet.”

  “Sure you have. Now, I’m going ask you guys to leave. You want to talk more, snoop around in my business, I suggest you get a warrant.”

  “Will do,” Morgan said. He stood. “We’ll be seeing each other again, Mr. Borkov. Soon.”

  As I reached the top of the gangway, Ray and Morgan already halfway down, Borkov stepped up behind me.

  “So, you don’t work for your father,” he said in a low voice. “Fucking with me is the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”

  I turned to him. “I’ve made worse mistakes. I remember one married woman I hooked up with. Her husband tried to run me off the road one night.”

  “Too bad he didn’t.”

  “He overestimated his driving ability. He’s the one that ended up in the ditch.” I smiled. Borkov didn’t. His face was like cold granite.

  Time to vacate the premises.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  EARLIER, AFTER WE had left the Sea Witch, we headed over to Ray’s where we brought Nicole, Grace, and Pancake up to date on our visit with Borkov.

  “Where’s Morgan?” Pancake asked.

  “He swung by to chat with a friendly judge,” Ray said. “Hopefully he’ll come back with a warrant for the Sea Witch.”

  “Think we’ll find anything of use there?” I asked.

  Ray shrugged. “Won’t know till we look.”

  “It’ll at least rattle him a little more,” Pancake said.

  Since Grace left for the mall with only the clothes she wore and her purse, she and Nicole worked out a list of things Grace might need and Nicole and I left. We swung by a discount clothing store and then a pharmacy. Nicole was a fast shopper, spending only ten minutes in each store. Then, with two stuffed bags, we returned to Ray’s.

  “I grabbed everything on the list and a few other things I thought you might need,” Nicole said as she placed the bags on the kitchen table.

  Grace rummaged through the clothes and toiletry items Nicole had chosen. “Looks like you covered the essentials. Thanks.”

  “Let me know what else you need and we’ll pick it up.”

  “I guess this is my new life.” Grace sighed. “Living out of plastic bags.”

  “It’ll get better,” Ray said. “And, in the meantime, you’ll be safe.”

  “Doesn’t look that way from where I sit.” Grace hesitated and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for.” Her eyes glistened as she looked at each of us in turn. “I’m really grateful for everything you guys have done.”

  “We did the easy part,” I said. “You did the heavy lifting. You took the risk. I’m just glad we could get you off the boat and away from Borkov.”

  Grace fought back tears. “Me, too. In spite of my fears and reservations, I know this is what I have to do.” She sniffed. “I might not like it, I might be scared to death, but inside, deep inside, I know it’s right.”

  I hugged her to my chest. “It’ll be okay.”

  The dam broke. Grace collapsed against me, her body shaking as she let it all out. I felt her tears soak through my shirt. It took a couple of minutes for her to compose herself, and I held her the entire time. Finally, she pushed back and looked at me.

  “I feel so silly,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “Maybe scared, but not silly.”

  That’s when Morgan showed up. He looked at Grace. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just had a ninny moment. Had to get it out of my system, I guess.”

  “It’ll get better.”

  Grace shrugged. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

  “What’s new?” I asked Morgan.

  He said he’d reached out to a colleague with the Pensacola PD about securing a warrant to search the Sea Witch. The ship was not only out of Morgan’s jurisdiction, it was even in another state. Where he had no standing. He and the Pensacola detective then visited the judge. A cop-friendly one it seems.

  “And?” Ray asked.

  “After I went over the evidence we had, he said he was leaning toward a warrant but made it clear that the probable cause statement needed to be airtight. Not that he didn’t believe that Grace saw what she saw, just that he didn’t see any corroboration of her statement and she might not be the most reliable witness.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Grace said. “Victor and his two clowns killed Darrell and Darnell. I saw it. I didn’t make it up.”

  “We talked about this,” Ray said. “You were intoxicated. It’s still your word against three.”

  Morgan said that’s why he’d asked one of the local assistant DAs to work on the probable cause wording. “Figured I’d get one of the legal types to write it up since he speaks the same language as the judge.”

  “What’s the turnaround time here?” Ray asked.

  “I told the judge we’d have it ready by nine, ten at the latest, tonight and we’d stop by his home then. He wasn’t happy, saying it could wait until the morning, but I said since the location we needed to search could move at any time, that we’d rather have it tonight.”

  “But he agreed?” I asked.

  Morgan nodded. “Reluctantly. So, as soon as it’s ready, I’ll pick it up and head over to Pensacola.”

  Starks and two uniforms showed up to take Grace to the safe house Morgan had arranged.

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  Morgan shook his head. “All I can tell you is it’s a house, up near Mobile.”

  “But we might need to bring some things over,” Nicole said.

  “Call me. I’ll handle it.”

  “But—” Nicole began.

  “But nothing,” Morgan said. “The whole idea is to keep it a secret. The more people who know the greater the chance it’ll leak.”

  “We won’t talk,” Nicole said.

  “Talk all you want,” Morgan said. “Because you won’t know.”

  Nicole started to respond, but I touched her arm. “That makes sense. If we need to reach Grace we’ll go through you.”

  “Ready?” Starks asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Grace said.

  Starks nodded. “Okay. Grab your stuff and let’s get going.”

  Grace picked up the two plastic bags. “This is it. I’m traveling light, it seems.”

  We walked Grace down to Starks’ car. Hugs and tears followed. Even Nicole shed a couple. I think she and Grace had connected on one of those woman to woman levels. We watched as Starks drove away, Grace looking back at us with big eyes as he turned toward the highway. The uniforms in their patrol car followed.

  “She’ll be okay, won’t she?” Nicole asked.

  “She will,” Ray said.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Wait for the warrant,” Morgan said. “I have a half a dozen Pensacola PD guys and their evidence team standing by so we can pay Mr. Borkov a visit as soon as the paper comes through.”

  “Anybody else hungry?” I asked.

  “Me,” Nicole said.

  “Me,” added Pancake.

  “Let’s head over the Captain Rocky’s,” I said. “I need to check in with Carla, anyway.”

  And that’s what we did. Even Morgan
joined us. After we settled at a deck table and ordered drinks and food, Carla and I went into the office. Took us maybe ten minutes to go over the week’s numbers. A good week. Seems we had attracted a bunch of tequila drinkers and that’s always good for the bottom line.

  While we ate, Morgan was fidgety. Constantly checking his cell phone for messages. Maybe he wasn’t so sure the warrant would go through.

  “Maybe Nicole, Pancake, and I should venture over to the dock in Pensacola,” I said. “To keep an eye on Borkov’s boat.”

  “And spook him?” Morgan shook his head. “I suspect Borkov’s already nervous, probably all the way to paranoid, and if he sees you guys, or anyone, snooping around it’ll only feed that. I don’t want anyone near there until we show up with the warrant.”

  “Can we at least come along when you do your search?” I asked.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s see. You aren’t cops. It’s a crime scene. I’m only getting in there as a favor from the Pensacola PD. I don’t think they’d welcome spectators. And since Borkov’s already tweaked, this has the potential of going badly. People like Borkov are used to doing what’s necessary and that makes him dangerous. He might do something stupid and . . . all sorts of bad things can happen.”

  I shrugged. “Since you put it that way, I guess Nicole and I are off-duty.”

  “I’ll keep Ray in the loop,” Morgan said. “He can pass it along to you if he wants.”

  “Jake’s not big on answering his phone when he’s with Nicole.” Ray winked at her.

  She laughed. “I’ll make sure he keeps it close by.”

  “So now you’re all going to gang up on me,” I said.

  “Poor little Jake,” Nicole said.

  “What do you want to do now?” I asked her.

  “You.”

  I stood. “That’s my cue.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  TURNED OUT IT didn’t take long for Borkov to do something stupid. Or smart. Or scary. I guess it all depended on your point of view. For Nicole and me, it was definitely the latter.

  After we left Captain Rocky’s, we swung by Orange Beach and Nicole parked her SL facing the Gulf. Top down, a cool breeze off the water. I was glad I had my jacket with me. Nicole didn’t and chided me about being such a wimp, saying something about me needing my blanky. She can be so pissy sometimes.