by Tom Turner
Ted laughed. “She really doesn’t tell you anything, does she?” he said, watching Balfour take a long, slow backswing. “So Camilo met Lila’s friend, Jenny, on one of the dates with Lila and now they’re hot and heavy.”
Balfour shanked the ball into the Poinciana parking lot.
Thirty-Seven
After the lesson, Ted accepted Balfour’s offer to buy him an early lunch at the snack bar.
Hamburgers and fries had just been delivered to their table.
“So you’re like a minus two, right?” Balfour asked.
“Minus three actually,” Ted said, which meant he averaged three strokes less than par every time he played eighteen holes. So if par was seventy-two, he typically shot a sixty-nine.
“Man, what I’d give,” Crawford said, shaking his head. “So I heard a couple of members were going to sponsor you to try your luck on the Web.com Tour?”
“Yeah, which was really nice,” Ted said. “But it’s such a grind and I really don’t think I’m as good as most of the other guys out there. I was on the junior tour, played with a bunch of those guys, and I’ll be honest, Mr. Balfour, I think I’d starve.”
Balfour laughed. “What about Camilo, he have any higher aspirations. Go on tour maybe?” he asked as casually as he could.
Ted exhaled. “He actually was on one of them for a season,” he said. “Poor bastard—” Ted held up his hands. “I’m sorry for cursing, Mr. Balfour.”
Balfour shook his head and smiled. “Relax, Ted, I’ve heard the word before.”
“I apologize,” Ted said. “So anyway, all Camilo got out of the tour was a big pile of debt. Plus the poor guy’s got a ton of college loans, and he told me his family back in Argentina is really poor. He tries to help ‘em out and send ‘em money, but…”
Balfour nodded. “That’s too bad.”
“Tell you the truth,” Ted said, “I’m really surprised he’s not here. Flu or no flu. We both kinda count on the lessons. The salary’s kinda—”
Balfour was on the Golf Committee. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “The money’s in the lessons.”
“Anyway, I’m talking too much,” Ted said. “So you think the lesson helped?”
Balfour nodded eagerly. “Damn right it did. You have no idea,” he said. “You saw the before and after. After you told me what I was doing wrong, I was hitting it pretty good.”
“Yeah, you definitely were,” Ted laughed. “Except…”
“Except what?” Balfour said then he smiled broadly. “Oh, you mean, that four-iron I launched into the parking lot. Just hope it didn’t hit someone’s Bentley.”
Thirty-Eight
After Balfour filled in Crawford about what he had just learned about Camilo Vega, Crawford had to make a tough decision.
He needed to get search warrants for both Jenny Montgomery and Camilo Vega’s houses, but it was impossible to go to a judge and get warrants for a case that didn’t exist. He decided he needed to have a conversation with Norm Rutledge.
Problem was he knew Sunday was Rutledge’s church-followed-by-bowling-with-the-family-day. He called him anyway. He got Rutledge’s voicemail and left a message. “Norm, this is urgent. Call me right away.”
To his surprise, Rutledge called back in fifteen minutes.
“Better be good, Crawford,” Rutledge started out.
Crawford imagined him tying up his size thirteen red and blue bowling shoes.
“A guy I know came to me on Friday night and said his niece had been kidnapped. I told him I’d need to report it to you and you’d probably need to bring in the FBI. He said, forget it, he didn’t want to risk having a million people involved, he’d do it himself.”
“That was a really bad idea,” Rutledge said.
“Yeah, well anyway, flash forward to this morning,” Crawford said. “He knows who did it and where his niece is being held.”
“How’d he find out?” Rutledge asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Crawford said. “But’s he’s absolutely sure. So he’s saying either he’s gonna take care of it himself—”
“Are you kidding? Fucking amateur hour, you mean?”
“Or me and Ott do it.”
A long pause. Crawford imagined Rutledge pulling on his bowling glove.
“There’s no choice,” Rutledge said finally.
“I know.”
“Well, don’t fuck it up.”
“I’m gonna need to get a warrant.”
“Yeah, fine,” Rutledge said. “Judge Hendricks is your best bet on Sunday.”
Crawford called Ott right away and asked him to get search warrants from Judge Hendricks for both Jenny Montgomery’s house on Washington Street and Camilo Vega’s house on Gregory Street. Balfour had given him Vega’s address since as a member of the Golf Committee, he had access to the golf pro’s phone numbers and home addresses.
“Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Ott asked predictably. “How do we get search warrants for a case that doesn’t exist?”
“I just had a little talk with Norm,” Crawford said. “Told him a little about it.”
Ott thought for a second. “‘Little’ being the operative word, right?”
“Exactly.”
A few minutes later Crawford had an afterthought and called Ott back and asked him to also get the okay to plant a listening device. An hour later Ott phoned him and said he had them and would come right over and pick up Crawford.
“Sounds like she’s pretty guilty to me,” Ott said as they drove to Jenny Montgomery’s house after Crawford told him about Balfour’s conversation with Ted.
They arrived to find a car in her driveway. It was the same car as when Ott had visited last time. A white Toyota Corolla.
Crawford turned to Ott as he parked on the street. “Let’s just ask her about Sandusky to make her think that’s what we’re focusing on,” he said.
“Good idea,” Ott said. “She can tell her friend Camilo the cops are barkin’ up the wrong tree.”
Crawford nodded as they got out of the Caprice, went up to the porch, and hit the buzzer.
A few moments later Jenny Montgomery came to the door. She shaded her eyes as she looked up at Crawford and Ott.
“Hi, Ms. Montgomery,” Ott said. “I was in the neighborhood with my partner, and we just have a few more questions. This is Detective Crawford.”
“Hi, Ms. Montgomery,” Crawford said. “Mind if we come in?”
“Hello,” Jenny said, nervously. “But I…I really don’t have time right now. I’ve got to be somewhere.”
Crawford got the sense that she didn’t want them to come inside.
Crawford dialed up a big smile. “Promise, just take a few minutes.”
“Why can’t we just talk right here?”
“Well, if it wouldn’t be too big an imposition,” Crawford said. “Could I just use the facilities?”
How could she say no?
“Okay, but really, I have to make this fast,” she said.
She turned and pushed the door open. Then to Crawford, “Right past the kitchen on the right.”
“Thank you very much,” Crawford said as Jenny sat down at the small dining room table.
Ott stayed on his feet. “Did Professor Sandusky and Lila ever go on a date, Jenny?”
Jenny shook her head. “No way, Lila had absolutely no interest in that guy.”
Crawford came into the dining area and looked at Ott. “You asking her about Sandusky?”
Ott nodded.
“In the last few days,” Crawford turned to Jenny, “do you know whether she’s seen him?”
“I have no idea,” Jenny said, “‘cause I haven’t seen her or talked to her in a few days.”
Crawford nodded. “Okay, that’s all we need to know,” he said, walking toward the front door. “Told you it wouldn’t take long. Thanks for your time.”
“Yes, thanks again,” Ott said following Crawford.
“You’re welcome,” Jenny said.
Craw
ford and Ott walked out the door and over to their car.
“Confirmation,” Crawford said getting in the car. “There was a tool belt in a corner of the living room. Jenny doesn’t strike me as a girl who’d be strapping one on.”
“So Camilo dropped it off for some reason after they took Lila,” Ott said.
“Yeah, looked like he spends time here. Men’s razor and two tooth brushes.”
They went directly to Camilo Vega’s house. Crawford’s guess was he probably rented it. They drove past number 121 Gregory, noting a car in front of the house on the street but none in the driveway.
Crawford took out a pair of headphones from his jacket.
“Whatcha got there?”
“Oh, guess I forgot to mention, I planted a bug in her living room.”
Ott high-fived him. “Thought you were just using the facilities?”
“Yeah, well, turned out I didn’t have to go.”
Crawford opened the glove compartment, reached in, and pulled out a pair of binoculars.
Ott had pulled over at the end of the block. Camilo Vega’s house was mid-block. “Get a little closer, will ya,” Crawford said, putting the binoculars up to his eyes.
Ott drove closer. “Anything?” he asked.
“The curtains are all drawn,” Crawford said.
“Too nice a day to be living in a cave,” Ott said.
Crawford nodded. “Why don’t we go around back,” he said. “Go down to the block one street south of here. Check things out from that side.”
Ott nodded and drove down to Flagler, took a right, then took another right onto Phillips Street, and drove halfway down the block.
Crawford pointed at a house that had several old, yellowed newspapers on the porch and a bunch of flyers shoved into a screen door. “That house is right behind Vega’s. Nobody’s living there.”
Ott pulled up in front of it. “Definitely not,” he said, pointing. “One of those lock box things realtors use.”
Crawford nodded and opened the Caprice’s door. “I’m gonna go around back,” he said. “Make like I’m a buyer, scoping the place out. Stay here, okay?”
Ott nodded. “Get one of those flyers under the mat.”
Crawford nodded, walked up to the porch and got a flyer then went around one side of the house.
Studying the flyer, he walked around the house then positioned himself off to one side so he could check out Camilo Vega’s house.
On the two windows on the back of the Vega house he saw something that a safe neighborhood like this wouldn’t seem to warrant. Both windows had bars on them: five vertical bars and three horizontal ones on each window. They looked brand new, clearly recent additions to the house. No doubt designed to keep someone in, rather than keep someone out. If Crawford was holding a person captive in the house, he would have done the exact same thing.
He walked back around the house, content that this was where Lila Bacon had spent the last forty-eight hours.
He walked over to the Caprice and opened the car door and got in.
“So?” Ott asked.
“She’s in there,” Crawford said, putting on the headphones.
They talked about how to get in Vega’s house and rejected their first two plans as too dangerous. Then Crawford held up his hand as he heard Jenny Montgomery’s voice in his headphones.
“Hey, Cam, just had a little visit from two Palm Beach cops,’” she said, clearly on her house phone. “Looks like they think it’s the professor.”
A pause, then Jenny laughed. “I know,” she said. “Oh, also, I booked our tickets. Talk soon.”
Ott shot Crawford a thumbs-up. “Oughta make our boy inside feel nice and safe.”
Crawford nodded as he watched a mailman deliver a stack of mail across the street.
“Guy’s about your size, isn’t he, Mort?” Crawford said, pointing to the mailman.
This time, Crawford and Ott scraped up sixty-five bucks. Like the couple whose boat they had requisitioned yesterday, the mailman seemed happy with that. He was in the back seat of the Caprice stripping down. He handed his shirt to Ott. It was a blue, short-sleeved shirt with a patch on the left breast. Ott noticed it was a little sweat stained, but put it on anyway. Next came a blue baseball cap with the same U.S. postal service logo on it. Then came the bag that the postman had emptied of its contents. And finally, the blue shorts, with a thin black belt.
Crawford glanced over at Ott. “Get to show off those sexy legs of yours, Mort.”
Ott smiled and mouthed, Fuck off.
Ott clothed in the mailman’s attire, they discussed how they were going to play it.
They decided Ott was going to go to the front door, saying he had a box that didn’t fit in the mailbox. Then he was going to reach in and pull out his Glock and shove whoever was at the door back inside.
At the same time, Crawford was going to smash through the door in the back of the house. He remembered it was a metal door, but his experience with doors was that if he got a running start and threw his two hundred pounds into it he could knock it off it’s hinges.
The only question was how he’d know when Ott was making his move. They talked about getting backup, but realized that the more bodies crawling around the neighborhood, the higher the chance Vega would be tipped off. Not to mention this was not even an official case. Based on what little they knew about Vega, it didn’t seem like his profile indicated he was the type to hurt Lila. Though when someone panics, Crawford pointed out, you never knew.
They finally decided that Ott would call Crawford on his cell right before going up to Vega’s house, then put the live phone in his mailbag. Crawford would then hear the whole conversation between Ott and whoever answered the door. At the same time Ott made his move, Crawford would make his.
As for the mailman, Chet, his instructions were just to stay in the back of the car, take a well-deserved break, and think about how he was going to spend his sixty-five bucks.
Ott had just called Crawford as he walked down the sidewalk. He put his Samsung in the mailbag. The only thing that was off about his mailman costume was his old pair of Earth Shoes. The mailman had looked at them, shaken his head, and laughed. Like they were a disgrace to the profession.
“Hear me, Charlie?” Ott asked, almost at the house.
“Loud and clear,” Crawford said, his voice coming through the phone’s speaker inside the bag.
“I’m going up to the house now.”
“Copy,” Crawford said.
Ott rang the doorbell.
He waited. A man with a mustache and bad skin opened the door a crack.
“What’s up?” he said.
“Got a package I couldn’t fit in your mailbox.”
“Just leave it on the porch,” the man said and started to close the door.
Ott drew his Glock and, with the pistol in hand, threw his weight into the door shouting, “Showtime, Charlie!”
The door slammed into the man so hard it knocked him to the floor.
Ott took a few quick steps and pressed his foot down on the man’s neck. “Where’s the girl?” he shouted.
The man didn’t answer.
He pressed harder. The man made a choking sound. “Bedroom in back on the left,” he managed.
Ott took his foot off his neck. “You go anywhere and the snipers outside have orders to shoot to kill.”
Then Ott had a second thought. He quickly cuffed the right hand of the man to the door handle set. He wasn’t going to go anywhere.
Ott ran down a short hallway to the bedrooms in back.
Crawford had knocked the back door off its hinges and was in the back bedroom with his Sig Sauer trained on a man in shorts and a t-shirt. The man had a kitchen knife up to Lila Bacon’s throat.
Lila looked terrified. Her eyes were red and puffy as if she hadn’t slept. Her lower lip was trembling.
“Let her go, Camilo,” Crawford said. “There’s no way you’re getting out of here.”
Ot
t stepped into the room, Glock trained between Camilo’s eyes. “We’ve got snipers on all four sides.”
“So drop the knife and this ends well,” Crawford said. “You go outside and our guys will take you out before you can move that knife.”
“Cam, please,” Lila said. “Do as they say.”
Camilo’s leaden eyes looked as though his heart was no longer in it. “What will happen to me?” he asked in a defeated monotone.
“If you put down the knife and let Lila walk away,” Crawford said, “good chance, maybe just false imprisonment.”
“They’ve treated me very well,” Lila volunteered.
“That goes a long way,” Crawford said. “Let her go or you’re a dead man. Now!”
“But what will I get?” Camilo said.
“Whatever you get beats a bullet in your head,” Crawford said. “‘Cause that’s how it ends unless you put that damn thing down right now.”
“Now, Camilo,” Ott shouted.
Camilo tossed the knife on the carpeted floor and released his grip on Lila.
She ran across the bedroom to Crawford and Ott.
Ott reached into his mailbag and pulled out handcuffs. “Turn around,” he said to Camilo.
Camilo did as he was told. Ott cuffed him.
“You all right?” Crawford smiled at Lila, patting her on the shoulder.
She nodded but tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Thank you so much. I was so scared. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Crawford nodded and handed her his cell. “Give your uncle a call. He’s going to be very happy to hear from you.”
Crawford and Ott deposited Camilo Vega and his accomplice, Marco, in a cell at 345 South County Road, then went and arrested Jenny Montgomery. After extensive questioning, it seemed that Jenny was the mastermind behind the kidnapping. She had told Camilo how rich Lila was. How her parents had left her twenty million dollars. Jenny said how unfair it was that Camilo’s and her parents were so poor and how she and Camilo had barely enough to pay rent.
She had gradually worn Camilo down until he finally agreed to Jenny’s kidnap plan. After Camilo and his friends went to David Balfour’s house and kidnapped her, Jenny told Camilo they were going to have to kill her after they got the money since Lila knew they were behind it.