“So why has Ron’s friend got you so agitated?” Danielle had turned 180 degrees and leaned the other shoulder on the jamb.
I looked at her, wet hair clinging to her neck. Doing to a plain T-shirt and jeans what Audrey Hepburn did to a little black dress. And I realized why Stoat’s call had me so agitated. I thought it was because I’d messed up and been made to look like a fool, and there was a good dose of that in my anger. But there was more.
“Is it what I said the other night? About losing you?” she said. “Because if it is, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put that on you. It wasn’t fair. If I can trust Ron to handle himself, I should be able to trust you.”
“Ron’s not worried about himself. He’s worried about his loved ones. And I’m worried about mine.”
Danielle stepped to me and gave me a light kiss, and then hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her, and was reminded again for all her toughness, how fragile she felt. She pulled back and gave me that half smile that made my old blood pumper do back flips.
“Let’s go get that beer,” she said.
Chapter Fifty
ALL’S RIGHT WITH the world when I walk into Longboard Kelly’s on a mild fall evening and see the party lights emitting their multicolored glow across the courtyard, and I find Ron sitting at the bar, beer in hand. The courtyard tables were half full, and Muriel was leaning on the back of the indoor bar, chest out, chatting with Ron. We arrived at the bar as Muriel bumped her hips and stood to the taps, and poured me a beer.
“Vodka tonic?” she asked Danielle.
“Sounds good.” Danielle touched my shoulder. “I’m just going to give Burke a call.” I nodded, and Danielle headed for the rear of the courtyard, next to the surfboard with a bite out of it, where the noise was lowest and the phone reception was best. Ron and I watched her go, and then clinked beers. I took a long gulp and a deep sigh. I wasn’t sure if it was the drink or just being in a place that often felt more like home than home that gave me relief.
“You look strung-out my friend,” said Ron.
“Nothing a few beers with you won’t fix.”
“I can’t stay too long. I have a hot date.”
“That’s moving on quick, even for you.”
“The Lady Cassandra has asked me to join her in Colorado.”
“Well, good for you.” We clinked glasses again. Ron looked happy, and that made me happy. I realized that I looked at Ron like the kids on the college campus looked at me. That somehow each of us must have reached an age where we no longer yearned for a full heart. But seeing Ron now, I realized the truth was that hope sprung eternal in all of us.
“What about you then,” he said.
“Same old stuff.”
“I heard Montgomery got nabbed by Miami PD. Not saying you had anything to do with it, but it’s good news.”
“He got out.”
“What?”
“He was released. Didn’t even spend the night. All the evidence went poof. Gone.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Ron.
“Believe it. He’s got serious pull down there.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“What, you think every cop in the world is golden? Come on, even Danielle doesn’t believe that.”
“No,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and turning me toward the parking lot entrance. “I don’t believe that.”
Standing just inside the courtyard, surveying the scene for a vacant table like a regular Joe, was Alexander Montgomery. He wore a cream linen suit and white fedora, and looked like he just rolled in from his Carolina plantation. He spotted a table to his liking and strode over to it with his bodyguard/driver in his wake. They shifted their chairs so they faced the entrance to the courtyard and sat down.
“He didn’t seem to notice us,” said Ron.
“Oh, he knows we’re here, all right.” I put my beer on the bar.
“Maybe you should just leave it,” said Ron.
“Is that what you think? I should leave it?”
“Or call the cops.”
“Is he breaking the law by being here?”
Ron shrugged. “Perhaps you should just go and smash him over the head with a hockey stick. Get him back for your car.”
“Thanks, Ron, helpful. But the car was Rinti’s guys.”
“My mistake. I’m struggling to keep up with all the people who want to bonk you on the head.”
“You and me both.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I looked across the courtyard at Danielle, who was pacing back and forth, head down, phone to her ear.
“I think I’ll go say hello.”
I edged my way between tables, ducking between umbrellas emblazoned with beer logos, over to Montgomery. He looked relaxed, like a wealthy gent summering on the Cote d’Azur. He glanced up at the last minute, giving me a grin that I might have read too much into, but felt like the smile of a serial killer. Either way it wasn’t pleasant.
“Why, if it isn’t the Miami Jones. Listen, Jones, what does one have to do to get a drink in his place?” He grinned.
“You have to get off your lazy backside and go to the bar.” I looked at his gut. “You look like you could do with the walk.” He dropped the smile. No man likes being called fat, and don’t let anyone tell you different.
“What are you doing here, Peanut?” I said. I thought butchering his marketing name might bring a response, but all I got was a clenching of the jaw, and then he relaxed again.
“Nice evening, so Nigel and I thought we might down a few bevvies.” The plummy accent was grating on me.
“You want to be careful,” I said. “I hear the staff spit in your drinks.”
“So why do you drink here?”
“They don’t spit in my drinks.”
Montgomery leaned back in his chair. The grin returned. He really did think he was the ant’s pajamas.
“What do you want, Montgomery?”
He leaned forward and gestured me closer, like he was going to pass me a state secret. I put my hands on the table and looked him in the eye.
“If there’s one thing I learned growing up on the mean streets of London, it was respect.”
“Mean streets? I heard you went to private school and then your daddy got you a job for an oil company.”
“He did no such thing,” he hissed. He took a breath to calm himself, and his grin morphed into a snarl.
“You could well do to learn some respect.”
“I have respect,” I said. Now it was my turn to grin. “I respect the sanctity of the locker room. I respect the winning and whatever superstition you believe keeps it going. I respect the batter who’s two and oh in the count with the winning run on base and still has the guts to swing for the bleachers. I respect a man who treats a lady like a lady, and a lady’s right to be treated like a man. I respect war monuments, minutes of silence and Old Glory. But I do not respect junior oil salesman with delusions of grandeur and nasty streaks.”
Montgomery’s snarl turned so hard he looked like Billy Idol.
“You think you’re so clever, you Americans. But we all found out last night who’s clever and who’s not. So I’m going to tell you what I think. I think when a man comes onto my turf and messes with my business, I have a right—nay, a duty—to come onto his turf and mess with his business.”
“You’re going to mess with my business? It’s really not that lucrative.”
“I’m going to mess with you,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna smash up your car.”
“Someone already beat you to that.”
“Then I’ll burn your house to the ground. I’ll burn your office to the ground, with your grandpa of a sidekick in it. Then what? Maybe I’ll start on that fine filly I saw you walk in here with. She looks a real goer, hey, Nigel?” Nigel nodded.
I stiffened and Montgomery’s snarl grew wider. “Yeah, why don’t you take a shot at me? Get yourself an assault charge. Bet you can’t get
out before tomorrow. And while you’re away, we’ll keep her company, won’t we, Nigel. Nige has a special bat and everything.”
I pushed at the table, and it scraped a few inches, squeezing Montgomery into his chair and causing all the eyes in the courtyard to turn to us. I could feel blood pumping in my temples, and it made it hard to think. The idea occurred that I should take some breaths in through my nose, like I did on the mound, but I wasn’t convinced I wanted to calm down. What I wanted was to break Montgomery’s neck. Snap it in half and worry about the eyewitnesses later. But I didn’t. Montgomery pushed his chair back and brushed his shirt with his hand.
“On second thoughts, they probably only have that pish American beer here anyway. I’d rather drink dishwater.” He stood and Nigel followed him.
“Say, Jones, you have a pet? A dog or something.”
“No.”
“Don’t get one. Ever.” He smiled at his wit and patted Nigel on the shoulder, and they sauntered out of the courtyard. I watched them go, and then I did some deep breathing to relieve the thumping in my head. I turned to look at Ron, who was looking at me with a frown. So was Danielle, standing next to him.
“Who was that?” she said as I got to the bar. I picked up my beer and finished it in one long gulp.
“How’s Burke?” I said.
“You’re right. They don’t have anything to go on. But who was that?”
“That,” I said, thumping my empty glass on the bar, “was Alexander Montgomery, aka Pistachio.”
“That’s him? What was he doing here?”
“Ruffling feathers.”
“Yours?”
“Everyone’s. I think we all need to keep our wits about us.”
“I’m going to call the office,” said Danielle. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
“There’s not. This is one bit of water that seeped out of your rusty barrel. Now he’s all over the floor, wreaking havoc. We’ve got to figure out another way to mop him up.”
“You’re getting good value out of that metaphor. Or is it a simile?” said Ron.
“Simile. I think.”
“You want me to stay?” he said.
“No, go see your lady.”
“You need something, just yell.”
“Keep your eyes open, pal. Seriously.”
“Always do. You never know when the boom is going to swing across the deck.” Ron finished his beer, slipped off his stool and winked at Danielle.
“Are you two serious?” she said. “This guy is a murder suspect. And I don’t care if he’s out of the barrel. I’m calling the sheriff on this one. And I’ve got lunch tomorrow with Eric. I’m going to get him in the loop too.”
“You have lunch tomorrow with Eric?”
“He called. I was going to blow it off, but now, no way.” She frowned. “You said it didn’t bother you.”
“It doesn’t. I didn’t know it was a regular thing, but whatever. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Too bad if it does. I’m meeting him because I want everyone possible to know about this Montgomery guy. And Eric might be able to help.”
I nodded to Muriel for another beer. “You know, I think you’re right. He can help.”
Chapter Fifty-One
I WAS RIGHT. State Attorney Eric Edwards could help. Just not with Montgomery. He wasn’t about to do anything that might get his tie dirty, let alone bloody. Sure, he’d swoop in once the cops had done the hard yards and arrested the guy, claiming he was the crime-fighting prosecutor. But that didn’t mean Edwards wouldn’t do some investigating. His version of down and dirty work was political in nature, and as such he could be very helpful. Especially with my pressure points, and one Dr. Millet.
I decided to get the hop on Danielle and her lunch with Eric, so I tapped his office for an urgent midmorning appointment. While I waited I looked over some documents for Ron regarding an insurance fraud case he was working. We had corporate clients, Boondoggle Lawry be damned. Lizzy didn’t offer to get me coffee from down the street, so I was comforted that some things were getting back to normal.
I wandered across to the state attorney building in bright sunshine. Although confident that Montgomery wouldn’t do anything in broad daylight, I kept my eyes moving and my ears open. I got there without incident. Eric made me wait ten minutes in his lobby, which was fine with me. Eric didn’t hire ugly paralegals. It was a character trait. Or a character flaw, depending on your point of view. So I enjoyed the scenery, young and bouncy as it was, and then Edwards buzzed me through. He was shuffling papers on his desk, which I had always imagined was what lawyers did, and was overjoyed to see it confirmed. He barely looked up at me.
“Make it quick—I’ve got a busy day.”
I was tempted to say something about his day being filled with lunch dates with my girlfriend and his ex-wife, but I decided to keep that in my pocket.
“I’ve news about the college investigation.”
Edwards stopped shuffling and looked at me. “Oh, you’re here about that.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.” He gave me his I know something you don’t know look, as if lunch with Danielle was their little secret. I wondered if Yale law had a class to perfect that facial expression.
“So my sources tell me that the president of the school is about to crack. He’s not good with political shenanigans, and I think a call from the state attorney’s office might push him over the edge. I think a skilled orator like you could turn him.”
“You want me to threaten him?”
“A gentle reminder of the implications of corruption charges for one’s career, that sort of thing.”
“And you think he’ll roll?”
“I do.” Actually I didn’t. My guess was he was the kind of ferret that would close up like a clam, and destroy all the evidence. But the net effect would be the same for my purposes.
“Is he around?”
“I have reason to believe he will be in his office at four o’clock this afternoon.” I believed that because I had left a message with Millet’s secretary, pretending to be from Senator Lawry’s office, telling her that the senator would be calling at four. I was pretty confident that was a call Millet would cancel his own funeral for.
Edwards picked up his phone and hit a button. “Maisie, what do I have on at four this afternoon? Office time? Fine, book me in for a call.” He hung up the phone and began his shuffling again.
“Was there anything else?” he said.
“No, nothing. You have a nice day.”
He looked at me and smiled his winningest politician’s smile.
“I intend to,” he said, as I walked out the door.
Chapter Fifty-Two
SINCE MY GIRLFRIEND was lunching with her ex-husband, and Ron was swanning it up in Vail, I dined on a tilapia sandwich at Longboard’s. Mick was his usual chatty self, delivering the plate with a thud and responding to my request for some lemon with a mumbled don’t need it. He was right. The fish had a hint of smoke from the grill, and needed no further assistance. I took my time getting down to Lauderdale, and the top of my Jeep flapped loudly on the freeway, giving me pause to consider my choice again. One does a lot of freeway miles in South Florida. I parked in the visitors’ lot next to the administration building. None of the campus rent-a-cops knew my Jeep, so I didn’t expect trouble. Besides, I wasn’t planning on staying long, or coming back anytime soon. I waited in the car, considered a visit to the athletic department and dismissed it, and then when I was ready I strode up the steps of the glass-fronted building, took the elevator to the third floor and marched my way to Millet’s office.
His receptionist saw me coming around the atrium but stood mouth agape as I swooshed past with a wink. She was an aloof thing but had clearly given up on stopping the likes of me from barging into her boss’s office. Which is what I did. Millet was at his desk, staring at his phone like it was a freshly delivered parcel with a radioactive materials sticker on it. He lo
oked small and tired behind the large desk, and the space took on the proportions of the reading room in the New York Public Library because of it. Millet glanced up at me and gave a sigh of resignation. This was not how he had envisioned his academic career. Murder, drugs, crooked developers, self-interested politicians and pushy PI’s.
“I hear you’re going to be on the front page of the Post,” I said as I strode up to his desk.
“What are you talking about?”
“The corruption charges. Federal investigation. You using donations and federal Department of Education funding to pay organized crime figures like Gino Rinti, who then used said funding to bribe Florida state senators to fast-track your little project.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “If you repeat any of that . . .”
“Not me. Palm Beach Post.”
“That woman?”
“Maggie Nettles. Good, I’m glad she got hold of you. I wouldn’t want you to miss the opportunity to present your side of the story.”
“She’s muckraking, and so are you. I happen to be waiting on a call from a state senator right now. I can assure you this project is above board and full steam ahead.” I almost expected him to say rah-rah!
“Senator Lawry, yeah. I wouldn’t expect to hear from him today, or ever again. Not now the state attorney’s office has launched a corruption investigation and the good senator is blaming you for everything.”
Millet’s mouth dropped. The thought that he could be left holding the dead duck had not occurred to him, given the white pallor that washed across his face. I could see his mind ticking over, hoping against hope that I was wrong, but having a hard time dealing with that pesky reality. Then the phone rang. On cue, as expected. Millet looked at me and almost smiled. Almost. He let it ring a second time. The phone was Schrödinger’s cat. Until he answered it, it could equally be his salvation or his demise. Senator Lawry, as expected, stiff upper, everything’s fine, let’s get this thing done, blow the naysayers. Or not Senator Lawry. It rang again, the sound swallowed by the leather-bound tomes encasing the room. Millet put his hand on the receiver and lifted it.
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