by Paul Carr
“Okay, coming your way.” He hung up and sent the image of the smaller shoe. An hour passed without an answer, and he called again.
“I forwarded the photo to Crandall,” she said.
“This is really important. Your guy could be linked to my other murders, too.”
“Okay, I get it.” She sounded a little put off. “I’ll check and see where they are.”
When she called back, she said, “They didn’t get a match. The size was the same, but he was wearing a boat shoe when they arrested him at the marina.”
Dalton felt his hope leaking away. “He might own another pair that matches. Do you have a warrant to search his home?”
“They’re working on that now, but he’s William Chan’s nephew and lives at his residence. It seems we’re having difficulty getting a judge to sign off on it. Chan has a lot of juice around here.”
“Is Chan in custody right now?”
“No. We had to cut him loose. They’re still hoping the nephew will flip on him, though.”
That didn’t seem likely to Dalton. The guy wouldn’t squeal on his uncle to save his own skin. “If you get a warrant, please have somebody look for the shoes.”
“Okay. I have to go to work at the bar in a little while, but I’ll let Crandall know.”
“Oh, by the way, what’s the nephew’s name?”
“Charles Chan.”
“Charlie Chan? You’re serious?”
She chuckled. “Yes.”
When they hung up, Dalton thought about the nephew, that he could be their only link to the three murders. He might not flip on his uncle, but he might give up another murder suspect if it meant avoiding the death penalty. The only problem was that the sheriff’s office didn’t have him in custody, and it appeared, at least for the present, that he was out of bounds for a sheriff’s interrogation. With Chan’s juice, the nephew could walk. If that happened, Dalton would be there to pick him up.
Dalton forwarded the information on the impressions to Crook, and then went by his desk. He told him that the DEA didn’t get a match. “Can you check with the two stores Tarver cited and see if anyone there remembers him or his uncle buying the dress shoes?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t found anything online on Aidan Reid. Maybe that’s an alias, too.”
“Yeah, could be.”
Back at his desk, Dalton phoned the federal courthouse on Simonton Street. He asked for the clerk of the court, and it took a couple of transfers before getting him on the hook. After identifying himself, he asked if an arraignment was scheduled for Charles Chan.
“Hold on.” The clerk sighed, as if he had better things to do than track down information for the sheriff’s office. He came back a minute later. “Yes, Mr. Chan is due to see the judge at two today.”
Dalton thanked him and glanced at the clock: a little past one. He phoned the watch commander and asked for a cruiser to be sent to the Federal courthouse by 2:00 p.m. to pick up Charles Chan for questioning. “I expect him to be released, and I want the deputies to grab him as he comes out the door.”
The commander agreed and hung up.
He had missed breakfast and decided to get something to eat on the way to the courthouse. About half-way there, he turned into a restaurant and ordered a Cuban sandwich. It arrived with soft bread, fresh ham and pork, pickles, and a hint of mojo sauce and mustard. Very tasty.
When he finished eating and paid, he headed on to Simonton and parked on the street across from the courthouse. He stepped over to the sheriff’s cruiser that sat a couple of spots away with the engine running. The driver lowered the window, and he leaned down and described Chan for the two deputies. “I expect him to make a run for it when he sees you. You probably should park over the curb in front of the building so you can grab him as soon as he comes out. I don’t think security will bother you.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him.”
“Okay, just be alert.”
The deputy, a man of about twenty-five, gave him a condescending smile.
As Dalton stood up, a black SUV eased by. The windows were tinted so dark he couldn’t see inside. He leaned down again and nodded toward the vehicle. “I bet that’s his ride. Probably imports from Miami inside it. If so, they’ll be armed. Call and get another cruiser over here.”
Not smiling anymore, the deputy nodded and got on the radio.
Dalton entered the building, flashed his badge for the security officers, and found the courtroom. He took a seat in the rear as Chan, accompanied by two marshals, shuffled in from a side door. Douglas Vici waited for him at the defense table. After the U.S. Attorney cited the charges, Vici argued that his client was innocent and that his misfortune was due to some bizarre mistake. Stating that his client was not a flight risk, he accepted personal responsibility for his appearance at trial. The judge contemplated only a minute or so before granting Chan’s temporary release to the attorney. One of the marshals came over and ushered him out the door, probably to attach an electronic tracking device.
Dalton followed Vici as he made his way to the vestibule. Several people passed by, and he didn’t think Vici saw him. He waited in the corner as the lawyer paced the other end of the large room. A few minutes passed, and then Charles Chan appeared through a side door, led by a marshal, who turned and went back inside. Vici and his client headed out the door, and Dalton went out behind them.
Two cruisers were on the curb, and two deputies stood next to the lead vehicle, both wearing vests. Two other deputies remained behind the wheels of the cars. Vici and Chan stopped when they saw what waited for them. The SUV sat idling on the street to the left. Another car sat at the curb about thirty feet behind the SUV.
One of the deputies stepped over and said, “Mr. Chan, we need to take you in for questioning in a murder investigation.” Lawyer Vici had a look of surprise on his face.
Two Asian men exited the SUV and strode toward them carrying what appeared to be AK-47s. “Get in the truck,” one of the men said to Chan in accented English. Then three men wearing DEA vests exited the car behind the SUV. Dalton recognized one of them as Crandall Orr, Marilyn’s partner.
Several people exited the courthouse doors, saw guns, and hurried back inside.
Orr yelled at Chan, “They’re going to kill you. Stay where you are.”
One of the men with an AK turned and fired a burst at Crandall, who went down. One of the other DEA guys fired back and dropped the shooter. The other man with an AK shot a burst at Chan and then turned on the deputies. Before he could fire, Dalton put two bullets in his chest. The driver of the SUV sped off, screaming the tires on the pavement as he fled the scene in a haze of smoke. One of the deputies hurried over and collected the assault weapons. Both assassins lay in pools of blood and appeared dead.
“I’ve got this covered,” Dalton said to the deputies. “Go after him.”
They hurried to the cruisers and sped after the fleeing vehicle. Dalton called 911. He identified himself and said, “We need EMTs at the federal courthouse on Simonton. Four men have been shot. One is a federal officer.” After hanging up, he stepped over to Chan, whose dead eyes stared at the sky in horror.
Vici knelt by the downed man. “He’s gone. No pulse.”
Dalton hurried down the curb to Crandall Orr. One of the other agents was helping him up. He wore a protective vest, and blood streamed down his arm.
“You okay,” Dalton asked.
Orr gave him a frown. “No, the dude shot me.”
“You’re lucky to be alive. EMTs are on the way.” As he said it, sirens droned in the distance.
The EMT truck arrived a minute later, and one of the medics went to work on Orr. Another headed over to Chan. After kneeling next to him, he said, “Nothing we can do for him.”
Another sheriff’s cruiser arrived, followed by two Key West PD squad cars. Dalton got them all together and described what had happened. The deputies and police officers worked together to take statements from Vici and
the DEA agents.
Jack Ringo rolled up as Dalton readied to leave, and he had to repeat everything to him. “Your officers are getting all the details from the witnesses. I’ll email you my official statement.”
Ringo nodded. “That’s fine.” He paused, then said, “The taillight work okay?”
“Yeah, I didn’t notice a problem with it.” He headed to his car and drove away. Thinking about the news, he phoned Lola Ann. This would be a good one to toss to her, in case he needed her later.
“About time you called me. What’s going on?” she asked.
“I have something for you, but it has to be from an anonymous source. You okay with that?”
“You got it cowboy. Fire away.”
He described the courthouse scene in detail, including only Chan and Vici’s names. “A DEA agent shot one of the assassins, and a sheriff’s deputy shot the other.” She thanked him and hung up. He assumed it would air within a few minutes.
Back at the office, he went in and briefed the lieutenant on what had happened, including the DEA bust the night before.
“Tell me again why you wanted to bring in this Charles Chan.” Springer said.
“I believe he was one of the two men who killed Blake Owen, and he could’ve identified the other man. The other man probably also murdered Riley Gunn and Wilbur Hess.”
“It sounds like you got him killed.”
“That isn’t the way I see it. The shooter killed him so he couldn’t talk. His uncle might even have given the order. If not him, somebody more powerful. They probably would’ve waited until they left the courthouse if the DEA guys hadn’t shown up. Either way, Charles Chan was a dead man.”
Springer gave him a smirk. “Okay, you know the drill.”
Nodding, Dalton pulled his service weapon and badge and laid them on his supervisor’s desk.
“I expect a full report ASAP,” Springer said. “The sheriff won’t be happy.”
Dalton left without commenting. He imagined the sheriff wouldn’t like it any more than he did. Chan had been his only link to the other murderer. He sighed as he sat down at his desk.
Crook called and said he’d hit pay dirt. “I showed the driver’s license photo to both stores and one of them said the younger Chan purchased the shoes just a couple of weeks ago. He remembered, because the shoes are expensive and no one else has bought any since that time.”
“Okay, good work, Buddy. There was a shootout at the Federal Courthouse—”
“Yeah, I heard something about that on the news. You know what it was about?”
Dalton told him.
“Huh. Then I guess it doesn’t matter if they were his shoes or not.”
“Yeah, it matters. That nails him as one of Blake Owen’s murderers. We just have to find the other one.”
“Okay, I guess. I’m coming in.”
A minute or so after they hung up, his phone chimed again and he answered.
“This is J.T. Sam said you have a problem with a phone.”
“Yeah, thanks for calling. I have a phone that’s locked, and the techs here can’t open it. It belonged to a murder victim, and I believe it might have information on it that points to his killer.”
“Sam told me all that. He said I probably couldn’t open it either, and I bet him a hundred dollars I could.”
Pretty smart of Sam to challenge him, otherwise, he probably would’ve never called. J.T. asked if the device had an IMEI number on the back. It did, and Dalton gave it to him.
“Okay, turn the phone on, and I’ll call back when I get it unlocked.”
He did as instructed. A few minutes after they hung up, he noticed Hess’s phone light up, and pages of seemingly random text and characters streamed over its screen. Dalton set it aside and wrote up his report of the shooting. When he finished he sent a copy to his partner, the lieutenant, the sheriff, and Jack Ringo.
Crook came in later and dropped off the information he had gathered on the shoes. As he walked away to his desk, Dalton’s phone chimed. He glanced at the display: J.T. again.
“Any luck?”
“Oh, yeah. Piece of cake. I looked at the content, and there’s a video on it I think you’ll want to see.”
Chapter 13
Dalton picked up the phone and selected the camera function. There were no photos and only one video. He played it, and it began with blurring images, the picture moving erratically. It seemed that the person was getting into a vehicle, holding the camera down by his side. As the action settled, the lens peered upward at a passenger across from the camera. Dalton recognized the man: William Chan.
The video appeared to have been made in the rear of the elder Chan’s limousine. Chan began speaking to someone across from him and to the left of the camera. “You said you want a piece of the action. Wilbur could be a rich man, but is unwilling to do what it takes.” Chan nodded toward the person holding the camera without looking at him. “Riley is trying my patience. He thinks he can do business as usual and continue with this ludicrous lawsuit. He obviously does not know me very well. Kill him and I will give you his territory.”
“Glad to.” The words came from the person not in view.
“Do it tonight, and take Wilbur with you. Don’t mess this up, or you’ll be the next to go.” Chan nodded toward the door. “Get out.”
The images became erratic again, and then the video ended. Dalton glanced at the date and time the file was created. It was about nine hours before Riley Gunn was murdered. He leaned back in his chair and digested what had happened. It was apparent that Gunn was involved with the drug distribution along with Hess. Something Dalton hadn’t considered.
Hess had attended the meeting in the limo, along with the person to whom Chan had spoken. From what Chan had said, Hess had been offered the job of killing Riley and had declined. He probably knew Chan planned to offer the deal to the other person and made the recording as insurance in case things went haywire.
While the video implicated Chan in Gunn’s murder, it didn’t identify the person he asked to do it. Dalton played it several times, trying to get a fix on the voice, but the man had said only two words, and he decided they could have been spoken by any number of males he had interviewed. He thought about the argument between Hess and Gunn outside Hess’s home. He wondered if Hess had said something in anger about Chan planning to get rid of Gunn, maybe even flaunted the video. Gunn might have held the phone. He had gotten his prints on it somehow.
Dalton’s first inclination was to arrest Chan and get a search warrant, but he needed his weapon and badge. He grabbed the phone and went by Crook’s desk. “The phone is unlocked, and there’s a video on it.” He played it for him.
“Sounds like we’ve got him.” He glanced at the clock. “You going to pick him up today?”
“I hope so. I’m going to see Springer. Come along if you want.”
“That’s okay. I need to wind up some things here.”
He thought Crook probably wanted to head out to a gig. “Okay, that’s fine. Just wanted to read you in.”
When he got to Springer’s door, the lieutenant said, “I just finished your report. You should be cleared pretty fast.”
“That’s good. I wanted to let you know that we got Wilbur Hess’s phone unlocked and there’s a video on it that shows William Chan ordering the hit on Riley Gunn.”
The lieutenant gave him a wary look. “Let me see what you have.”
He accessed the video and placed the phone on the desk in front of Springer. As it played, his eyes grew large. When it ended, Dalton said, “We need to arrest him, but he probably has some pretty high connections.”
“Yeah, well, he isn’t above the law,” Springer said, sounding brave, but his wide, blinking eyes gave him away. “Maybe the sheriff needs to see this. He’ll be the one getting the blowback.” He picked up Hess’s phone and they headed down the hall.
As they passed Sheriff Diaz’s secretary, she said, “He’s on a call,” but Springer waved
her comment away, and they stood at the doorway. Diaz looked up and narrowed his eyes. He said to the person on the other end, “I’ll have to get back to you,” and hung up. “This must be important. What’s up?”
After viewing the video, he said to Springer, “Give Dalton his badge. I read his report. He shot a man trying to kill one of our deputies with an assault weapon. I’ll take the heat if there’s a problem.” To Dalton: “Go get this guy. I don’t care if he’s the mayor’s best golfing buddy.”
When Dalton got back to his desk, he called Connie Duval in the Monroe County DA’s office to give her a heads-up.
“Yeah, I know that guy,” Duval said. “He spoke at a fund raiser for a local charity. You’re sure of what you have?”
“I can send you a copy.”
“Yes, do that.”
Dalton sent it to her on the protected network and phoned the watch commander and told him what he needed.
“Okay, but I hope it doesn’t turn out like the situation at the courthouse. By the way, deputies caught the driver. They cornered him in a shopping center. Our guys were worried he would come out spraying bullets. He sat in the vehicle for a long time with a phone to his ear, maybe calling for help. If that was the case, he must’ve struck out, because he finally exited with his hands up.”
“That’s good news. They take him to the jail?”
“Yes. What do you want us to do with him?”
“I’ll send you my report from the courthouse shootings. Book him on felony murder, and I’ll get by later. As for William Chan, I think taking him down will be peaceable, but you never know. I’m going to the Star Resort and ask him to come in for questioning. Maybe he’ll agree if he doesn’t know we’re going to arrest him. You need to send a cruiser over there just in case.”
“Roger that. It’ll be there in twenty.”
“Tell them to wait in the parking lot so he doesn’t get suspicious.”
As he stood to head out, Duval called back. “There could be some problems, but the video looks pretty damning. Let me know when you have him in custody and I’ll drive down.”