by Paul Carr
The two detectives rode to the office in silence. When Dalton got to his desk, he got more bad news. Tarver had sent an email saying the ballistics for the gun taken from Sheffield didn’t match the slugs that had killed Gunn and Hess.
****
That evening, Dalton had a beer on the deck with his uncle and a couple of guests. The tiki torches emitted a warm glow, and a pleasant breeze tickled his face. Eric must have sensed that he was lost in thought. He said, “I guess your case hasn’t worked out.”
“Not yet. Maybe it will, but at this point it doesn’t seem promising.”
“Yeah, you win some, and, you know the rest. Don’t let it worry you. By the way I fed Cupcake. He ate a pound of meat, so he should be set for the night.”
“I wondered why he wasn’t out here begging for a snack.”
After a few minutes of small talk, the guests drifted off to their boats. Eric stood and said he thought he would go inside. He had some things to do before bed.
“Okay,” Dalton said, “you can douse the torches. I want to sit here in the dark for a while, maybe have another beer.”
When his uncle had gone, Dalton got the last bottle from the cooler and popped the top. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what he might do to catch Sheffield in his lies, and he also thought about what Connie Duval had said. Was he biased against Sheffield? The guy hadn’t even been on his radar until the evidence started piling up. First with the tattoo the old man identified, then with the calls between him and Ana Kovich on the night of the murder, and finally with the two of them trying to escape.
He took a long swallow of the beer and poured the rest out. As he stood to go inside, he heard a crackle noise from the woods a few feet away, like somebody stepping on a dead palm frond. Then a moonlit silhouette stepped out in the open and strode toward the deck. Dalton reached for his 9mm, but remembered leaving it and its holster in his cottage before coming out.
“Hey, Detective, you probably didn’t think I knew where to find you.” It was Sheffield. He held a handgun with a noise suppressor attached to its tip.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to solve your case for you. After tonight, you won’t be dogging me anymore, or anybody else, for that matter.”
Dalton rested his hand on the edge of the table next to his chair. “You won’t get away with it. You’ll be the first person they arrest.”
“I don’t think so. You’re gonna die tonight.”
Grabbing up the table, Dalton leaped off the deck and rushed the intruder, the table out front like a shield. He felt the contact with the handgun and shoved it as hard as he could. Sheffield staggered back as the gun fired wild. Dalton dropped the table and kicked him in the stomach. The kick didn’t connect as well as planned, and Dalton grabbed the gun and tried to twist if from his hand. It went off and a round hit the steel fence next to his cottage with a zing.
Sheffield grabbed Dalton’s throat with one hand and tried to turn the weapon back on him. A flood light burst on from Eric’s cottage, and Dalton heard a clanging noise at the fence behind them, and then a loud thump to the ground. The cougar slammed Sheffield to the ground. The downed man screamed at the sight of the big cat and snatched up the pistol he had dropped. Dalton grabbed one of the tiki torches and swung it, striking the weapon as it fired.
Sheffield went limp and dropped the handgun to his side.
He lay still.
Cupcake whimpered, maybe thinking playtime was over.
Dalton kicked the weapon away, peered down at his motionless attacker, and then saw blood seeping from his midsection in the area of the femoral artery. Sheffield’s eyes stood wide with surprise, and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He remained that way, staring at the faraway moon.
Dalton checked for a pulse and found none. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911. When the operator answered, he identified himself, told her his location, and that there had been a shooting. “Forget about EMTs. Send the coroner and the CSIs.”
Chapter 19
Springer and Crook arrived first. Crook gave Dalton a quick smile as he and the lieutenant stepped over to the body. Not having a permit for the big cat, Dalton had put him inside the house and closed the pet door.
“What happened here?” Springer asked, his eyes narrowed.
Dalton told him, everything except the intervention of the cougar.
“So we’ll find only the victim’s prints on the weapon?” His tone sounded sharp.
“That’s right, unless someone else handled it before he showed up here.”
“All right. I’ll need your weapon and badge until we get everything sorted out.” Springer raised an eyebrow. “It never looks good when a dead body is found at the home of a deputy.”
The CSI team entered and drove down the long driveway in their van, followed by the ME’s van. Both stopped behind Springer’s vehicle. When Tarver stepped over, Springer said, “Check Detective Dalton for gunshot residue before you do anything else.”
Tarver did as asked and said he didn’t find any. He winked at Dalton as he gave Springer the results. Dalton went inside and retrieved his service weapon and badge. He returned and handed them to Springer. “You’re on desk duty until you’re cleared,” Springer said. “File your written statement first thing tomorrow.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
Springer gave him a dirty look, but stepped away without saying anything.
The CSI crew remained for almost two hours, taking photos, tagging and bagging the evidence, while Dr. Bragg examined the body. When he took it away in the van, everybody else followed, except Dalton. He went inside, had another beer, and went to bed. He didn’t know if it was the relief of taking Sheffield off the board, or several days of sleep deprivation, but he didn’t awaken for nearly eight hours.
****
At the office the next morning, Dalton wrote up his statement and sent it to all the interested parties. It was Saturday, and the place was bare. A few minutes later, the sheriff sent him an email asking him to stop by. When he arrived at his office door, Sheriff Diaz waved him in. He took a seat in one of the guest chairs.
“Congratulations,” Diaz said.
“Thanks. Maybe a little premature, though.”
“You still have questions?”
“All the evidence isn’t in yet, but the fact that he came to my home to kill me tells me all I need to know.”
Diaz nodded. “Me too. I got a report from the CSI team that only Sheffield’s prints were on the gun. Springer said he has you on desk duty. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get this resolved on Monday. Now, get out of here and go fishing, like other people do on weekends.”
****
Back at his desk, the image came to mind of Douglas Vici’s expression when he said he didn’t think there was any DNA evidence against Sheffield. He seemed a little too confident. Dalton dialed up Daniel Crown who worked for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement.
“Hey, been a long time,” Crown said.
“Yes, it has.” After getting pleasantries out of the way, Dalton said, “I know it’s the weekend, but I need a favor.”
Crown hesitated, then said, “Okay, long as it’s legal.”
“We sent an important blood sample to the lab and it went missing. I think we have it covered with a second sample, but it bugs me that they might lose something like that. I wondered if you might look into it.”
Crown agreed and Dalton gave him the details. “I’ll drive down on Monday,” Crown said, “and try to find out what happened.”
“Thanks. Much appreciated.”
“You bet. Least I could do after what you did for me.” Some information had fallen into Dalton’s lap on a previous investigation, and he had turned it over to Crown. The state agent had closed a high-profile investigation based on the information.
****
The rest of Saturday passed quickly as Dalton did repairs on the docks for Eric. Late in the day he and Er
ic took a skiff out to flats and channels north of the marina. They returned with several large croaker and a couple of bonefish. That night they fried the filets on the deck and invited the guests to join in for dinner. A couple of the regulars asked about the event the night before that had drawn the sheriff’s vehicles and crews. Dalton downplayed it, framing it as a revenge visit that turned out badly for the visitor. When he didn’t say more, the conversation turned to back to the fishing expedition that had provided dinner.
Dalton relaxed most of Sunday and took Cupcake on a long walk through the woods along the shore. The big cat stayed by his side most of the trek, but ran off a couple of times chasing egrets. Dalton was tired when they returned to the marina, and he finished the evening having beer on the deck with his uncle and the marina guests.
****
When Dalton checked his email on Monday morning, he had a message from Tarver asking him to call. “Good news,” Tarver said. “We finished ballistics on the handgun that killed Sheffield. It’s the same one used in the murders of Gunn and Hess. I sent the sheriff and Lieutenant Springer an email on it.”
“What about the DNA?”
“I expect the results today. The lab was embarrassed over what happened to the first sample, so they said they would give the replacement top priority.”
When they hung up, Dalton called Marilyn Coe.
“I heard about the guy getting shot at your place on Friday,” Coe said. “Were you cleared on it?”
“Yeah, it was a no brainer. Sheffield came at me with a gun. We fought and he got the worst end of it. I never touched the weapon.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. So he was your murder suspect that was in jail earlier that day?”
“Yes, same guy.” He told her about the spreadsheet on Riley Gunn’s computer.
“Does it name names?” she asked.
“It does. Buddy recognized a couple of them as band members here in the Keys.”
“Can we have the laptop?”
“No, but I’ll make you a copy of the file if you want to come by and get it.”
She paused, then said, “I’m still undercover, but one of our crew will drop by.”
“How long are you gonna do the bartender thing?”
“Don’t know. Why?”
“I hoped we could get together when all this is over.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know.” Her tone seemed indifferent. Not exactly the response he had expected. When they hung up, he went to the evidence locker and made a copy of Gunn’s spreadsheet on a flash drive.
Fifteen minutes later, DEA Agent Crandall Orr entered the office and headed to Dalton’s desk. “Marilyn said you have something for me.”
“Yeah, I do.” Dalton retrieved the storage device and handed it to him.
“I was at her house when you called,” Orr said, sounding proud of himself, like a high school kid making time with somebody else’s girlfriend.
“Good for you.”
“I could hear what you said to her on the phone. She’s not interested in you. She just didn’t want to cut off an information source.”
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”
A few minutes after Orr left, Marilyn Coe called back. “Sorry about earlier. Crandall was here, breathing down my neck. He’s so jealous of you, and I wouldn’t give him a second look. I’d love to go out with you whenever I can drop this gig.”
“Okay, I’d hoped it was something like that. He just came in for the file, and basically told me to stay away.”
“He’s an idiot.”
After they hung up, Crook stopped by. “You okay?”
“Sure, why do you ask?”
His partner shrugged. “Springer was pretty testy with you after what happened on Friday.”
Dalton shrugged. “Water off a duck’s back. I was surprised to see you there, though.”
“He called while the band was on a break. They went on without me.”
“Well, I was glad to see a friendly face.”
His partner smiled. “Yeah, I thought you might need somebody on your side.”
After an awkward beat, Dalton said, “Hey, you want to go over to the jail and talk with Ana Kovich, see if she’ll shed some light on what happened with Riley Gunn?”
Crook raised an eyebrow. “You’re on desk duty. You don’t think it’ll get you in trouble with the lieutenant.”
“No, it’ll be fine.”
Dalton drove them to the detention center, and they asked a guard to have Kovich delivered to an interview room. When she arrived, they took seats across the table from her and turned on the video. She told Dalton she wanted her lawyer present, and he nodded. “Sure, we can do that, but first I wanted to give you some new information.”
She seemed hesitant, but said, “Okay.”
“We found more items belonging to Riley Gunn in the suitcase we seized from the stolen boat the night we arrested you. In a meeting yesterday with Mr. Vici and Alan Sheffield, both claimed you took the items from Gunn’s safe the morning he was murdered. Vici said you were willing to confess to that.” Kovich just stared without committing one way or the other. “Vici got bond for Sheffield on Friday. After he threw you to the wolves, I guess he didn’t care about getting you bounced.”
“He came to see me Friday morning. He said he will get me free of all charges.”
“That didn’t sound like what he told us, but it isn’t important. The other thing I wanted to say, in case you haven’t heard, is that Sheffield came to my home Friday night. He had a gun and said he was going to kill me. We fought, and he accidently shot himself. He died within minutes.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed. Crook went out and got tissues. When she had composed herself, Dalton said, “Since you didn’t know, I gather that your lawyer hasn’t been back to see you. I guess you’re on your own now, since you’re no longer a threat to Sheffield.”
She just stared and blew her nose.
“I want to ask you some questions,” Dalton continued. “We’ll call Vici in if you want, but it might not be in your best interest. He’ll only stonewall your case. I can make you a deal.”
After seeming to consider his words, she said, “What kind of deal?”
“If you tell the truth about what happened, I might be willing to reduce the charges against you, but only if you didn’t have anything to do with Riley Gunn’s death.”
“I didn’t know Alan was going to kill him,” she blurted out. “He said he only wanted what was in the safe, and would give me enough money to go home if I could get the combination. I watched Riley open the safe one day when he was high and thought I had left the room.”
“So you didn’t take the items yourself?”
“No, I didn’t. The only reason I gave Alan the combination was because Riley didn’t do what he promised. He said if I worked for him for a year, he would pay for me to return home to Ukraine. When the year ended, he said I needed to stay another year. He paid me just enough to get by, and held my expired visa over my head. Said immigration would lock me up if they knew about it.”
“Okay,” Dalton said, “I understand why you would be angry about that. One thing that puzzles me, though, is that you had all that cash and Gunn’s personal items when you were trying to leave town.”
“Alan said the money would be safer with me until we met in Miami. He told me he would arrange a plane to Cuba, where I could get a commercial flight to Ukraine.”
“Okay, one last question. I think Sheffield drove a car to a spot around the corner from Riley Gunn’s home the morning he was murdered. He did it to frame Jimmy Earl, who owned the car. Did you give Sheffield a ride from that place back to his own vehicle?”
She stared for a few beats, maybe wondering if her answer might negate any reduction in her charges, and finally said, “Yes. He called and asked me to pick him up. He said his car was stalled. I reached the place he described, and he wanted me to take him to Wilbur’s house. When we got there, he asked m
e to take the money and things he had stolen and keep them until we could leave town. I didn’t know he killed Riley. I thought he just robbed his safe.” She began crying again.
****
Lieutenant Springer caught them as they returned to the office. “Where’ve you two been?” Dalton told him. His eyes narrowed. “You’re on desk duty. Do you know what that means?”
“I needed information from Kovich to close my cases.”
“Buddy could’ve handled that.” Crook just stared at Dalton, maybe wanting to say, I told you so. Springer continued, “I’ll talk with the sheriff about this. Don’t be surprised if he suspends you without pay.” He stomped away.
Shrugging, Dalton went to his desk and checked email. A message from Tarver said he had results from the lab. The DNA from the blood on Otto Edward’s wall matched that of the swab taken from Alan Sheffield. Tarver also wrote that the tread on the athletic shoes belonging to Sheffield matched the impressions at the rear of Blake Owen’s property.
Though the findings were not a surprise, Dalton felt relief to see them in writing. He worked on his reports, getting the files ready for closure. An hour later he sent an email to all concerned parties with the following summary:
Alan Sheffield attended a party at Riley Gunn’s residence, left around 2:00 a.m. and returned after 3:00 a.m. accompanied by Wilbur Hess. Sheffield shot Riley Gunn in the head and then took his phone, a laptop computer, and a large amount of cash and valuables from his safe. He and Hess left and went to Hess’s home where Sheffield shot Hess in the head as well. Ballistic tests indicated that both murders were committed with the 9mm handgun later taken from Alan Sheffield.
Sheffield took Hess’s phone and drove away in a vintage Camaro belonging to Jimmy Earl that Hess had stolen. He parked it in the brush around the corner from Riley Gunn’s home, as if it had broken down, and left Gunn’s blood inside the car to steer investigators toward Earl for the murder. Ana Kovich, Riley Gunn’s housekeeper told me she provided him with a ride back to his car. She also said she was unaware of the murder. I believed her and dropped the charge of murder conspiracy, but I did charge her with grand theft because she admitted giving Riley Gunn’s safe combination to Sheffield so he could steal its contents.