Murder in Mariposa Beach

by Teresa Michael

  “Really, why?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. Something about Mr. Montoya.”

  “He’s not going to back out on that reward, is he?”

  Jack shrugged.

  “Wait a minute. Speaking of planes. What happened to Max’s plane waiting to whisk us off to the Caymans and his bank accounts?”

  “They got squirrely when the computer guy and Max didn’t show up. They were getting ready to take off when the good guys arrived and changed their flight plan. They’re in jail.”

  “Good.”

  He motioned towards the door and said, “I’m going to tell Tony that he can come in, okay?”

  “Yeah…Yeah. That’s okay.”

  “I’ll be right outside if you need anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She nodded and thanked him as he disappeared through the door.

  A few minutes later, she opened her eyes to Tony’s smiling face. She’d always liked his smile. There were laugh lines at the corners now, but his eyes were still so expressive, soft and brown. Definitely, the drugs.

  “Hey, Lizzie.”

  “Hey.”

  “How’s the hand?” He stood at the foot of the bed in the same place where Jack had stood just a few minutes before.

  She filled him in on the status of her hand, and then asked, “What do you want, Tony?”

  “Pilar and I are going back to Miami tonight, and Mr. Montoya would like you to come with us. You can stay at the hotel, as our guest, of course. You can go to the spa, relax and sit on the beach, whatever your little heart desires. He wants to thank you and give you the reward check in person.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. You need to recover from this past week. It will do you and Pilar good to decompress.”

  “I must admit a nice massage sounds wonderful.”

  “So, what do you say?”

  “What time should I meet you?”

  “Pilar says she’s starving, so we’re going to get something to eat and then go to the airport. If you’re discharged, come with us.”

  “I have to locate my stuff, and I need to follow up again with Detective Bauer.”

  “There should be plenty of time for all of that.”

  “All right. So, when should I meet you?” She asked.

  “The plane is scheduled to be wheels up at seven o’clock. So about six-thirty?”

  “I’ll be there,” she said, as he moved to her left and took her hand.

  He leaned down, kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “See you at six-thirty.”

  Chapter 31

  Tuesday Afternoon – Key West

  The Flash Drive

  With her signed discharge papers and antibiotics prescription lying on the bed, Libby struggled with the button on her pants with her left hand while she held her right hand over her head. The stitches felt tight, and the local anesthetic was beginning to wear off.

  She was having second thoughts about going to Miami with Tony and Pilar. The thought of a couple of nights in a luxury hotel was tempting, but spending two days with Tony felt awkward. She was also concerned about Pilar and how she would handle the reality of Richard’s murder. She was worried that his death would hit her hard when she got back to what should be a normal life.

  After a quick knock at the door, Jack poked his head in and asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Almost. It’s not so easy with a bum hand,” Libby said, as she finally slipped the button through the buttonhole.

  “Need some help?”

  She laughed and met his eyes as he moved towards her. His gold-flecks twinkled, and his smile bordered on lecherous. Jeez, that stupid haircut is even starting to grow on me. “You are way too eager.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her. “Are you sure about Miami?”

  “I guess I should see this through and make sure that Pilar gets home safe,” she said, though it didn’t ring true to her even as she said it, and from the look on his face, he didn’t buy it either. “And don’t forget the reward.”

  “He can mail you a check or send an electronic transfer.”

  “It will only take a couple of days.”

  “All right, it’s none of my business,” he said, picking up her backpack. “We’d better get going.”

  “Do you mind if we get something to eat on the way to the airport? I’m starved, and we have time for something quick.”

  “Mark wants to speak to you before we leave,” he said as he opened the door. “I’ll call him and ask him to have something delivered to the station. All right?”

  “Of course,” she said going through the door into the Emergency Room hall. “It’s not like I have a choice, is there?”

  “Sure you do…pizza, burgers, or there’s a couple of fish shacks with great grouper sandwiches.”

  • • •

  “I’m glad you’re all right. It was a brave thing you did,” Mark Bauer said.

  They were sitting in an interview room at the police station where hot pizza filled the room with that yeasty sauce smell that made Libby’s stomach growl.

  “Thanks,” Libby said as she flipped open the pizza box with her left hand. She tried to slide a slice of pepperoni onto a paper plate but was having a terrible time maneuvering.

  Jack laughed and took over the serving duties.

  “Jack said you had some additional questions?” Libby asked Mark.

  “Yes. You said that Max gave your flash drive to Jason, the computer guy, who, then, took it into another room. Is that correct?” Bauer asked.

  “Yes. After Max handed it over, he went into the room at the foot of the stairs. I assumed it was a dining room.”

  “Did you see the flash drive after that?” Bauer was standing opposite where she sat at the table, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

  Libby licked pizza sauce off her fingers and thought for a moment, replaying the interaction between Jason and Max in the recording studio. “No. When Jason came into the recording studio, I didn’t see anything in his hands. He told Max that the program was good and that everything worked. That’s when Max told him to be on the plane at two. I guess I assumed that Jason kept the flash drive. At that point, the flash drive was the furthest thing from my mind.”

  “Are you sure Jason couldn’t have handed it over to Max?” Bauer asked.

  “I don’t know. I was sitting on the piano stool below them. I suppose he could have slipped it to Max when I wasn’t looking up, but I didn’t see it.”

  “What about the briefcase that Max was carrying? Did you see what was in there?”

  “There was sheet music and also a gun, but I didn’t see much of anything else.”

  “Just music and a gun?” Jack asked.

  “I saw the business end of a 9 mil Glock.” She pointed her forefinger at Jack like a gun, and said, “Right in my face while I was sitting at the piano.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jack muttered, sitting back in the chair.

  “Did you play the piano while you were in the recording studio?” Mark asked, glancing at Jack and, then, turning his gaze back to Libby.

  “Briefly,” she said. “There was this song he had written. He wanted me to play it for him.”

  “I told you I thought I heard music,” he said to Jack. “In the middle of the static, I thought I heard a piano. I thought I was hearing things.”

  “When Jason left, Max took the music and put both the music and the gun in the briefcase.”

  “Did you see a computer in the briefcase?” Mark asked.

  “No, but there could have been, especially if it was small.”

  “Did you see any other computers in the house?” Bauer was firing questions one after the other.

  “No, but I was only in three rooms. Did you find any computers?”

  “Yes, we retrieved two computers from the house, in addition to a small tablet in the briefcase and three computers at Jason’s apartment,” Bauer said. “But no f
lash drive.”

  “I wonder where it could have gone?” Libby asked.

  “That’s the million dollar question,” Bauer said.

  “The computer guy must have dropped it somewhere before your guys picked him up,” Jack said.

  “We picked him up just a few blocks from Max’s, close to his apartment. If that happened, someone was waiting for him,” Mark said.

  “That means there’s another member of the team out there somewhere or…” Libby stopped mid-sentence as the realization of who may have waylaid Jason before the police picked him up on the way his apartment. She hadn’t told Jack or Mark about Mario. She wasn’t exactly sure this was a good time to tell them, either. Besides, she didn’t know that Mario had the flash drive.

  “Or what?” Jack asked.

  “Another member of their team or…or…someone involved with whomever Holden answered to.” She looked from Mark to Jack and took a bite of pizza.

  Bauer shrugged and said, “You may be right, but, in the meantime, the computer forensics team is already looking through everything. I’m sure we’ll soon have enough evidence to send them all away for a long time.

  “I still have the files on my back up drive back at home,” Libby said. “That should help tie everything all together.”

  “The forensics team at the SSO has the original files that Pilar saved onto Libby’s laptop,” Jack said. “So essentially, you have everything you need to make the case except for the flash drive.”

  “Your flash drive is the link,” Bauer said. He pushed himself off the wall. “I don’t like loose ends. The flash drive helps tie things up in a nice package. It connects the dots.”

  “But these guys are the middlemen,” Libby said. “I hope you get enough information that’ll lead to the big guys, the ones who set up this organization.”

  “Yeah, and I sure hope some fancy lawyer doesn’t get these guys off with a slap on the wrist,” Bauer said. “Thanks again for your help, Libby. You did great.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I still wonder what happened to the flash drive.”

  “I think the question is who,” Jack said, picking up her backpack and opening the door. “And they’re still out there. This operation has just hit a bump in the road. They will be up and running again in no time. But someplace else.”

  “Or whoever has the flash drive can get a new organization started,” Bauer said.

  “But they would have to know how to run the program,” Libby said.

  “They all seem to have their own computer guys to figure that stuff out,” Jack said.

  “Take care of yourself and keep an eye out there in Miami. If he’s not already involved, I’m not so sure old man Montoya wouldn’t get involved to seek revenge on the people who grabbed his daughter.”

  “And there’s that,” Libby said, her mind going back to Mario.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Jack said. “Another reason that I don’t think you should go to Miami.”

  Bauer laughed and said, “Good-bye, Libby. Jack, I’ll see you back here later. We have a lot of paperwork to complete, evidence to sift through.” He turned and headed down the hall towards his office, calling over his shoulder, “If we get it all done, maybe we’ll have time to do some fishing.”

  Chapter 32

  Wednesday Noon – Miami

  A Little Pampering Can Do Wonders

  Libby sat by the pool in the sleek, black swimsuit she had bought for an outrageous price at the hotel gift shop. Actually, she hadn’t bought it yet. She charged it to her room along with some toiletries, underwear and other items she needed since she hadn’t planned on being away from home for more than two days. She’d worry about the bill later. Tony said the room was on the house. Maybe “on the house” would extend to an overpriced bathing suit, bath products and a tank top.

  She thought about putting it on Tony’s bill, along with the little black dress she bought to wear to Mr. Montoya’s cocktail party that evening but, with a stroke of conscience, she decided against it.

  She smiled at the thought, though, and lay back in the chaise lounge, under her reserved private cabana and felt like she could finally relax for the first time since this whole thing began barely more than a week ago.

  Her day began with a room service breakfast and then a massage and facial in the hotel spa. Each hotel staff member greeted her with some version of, “Good morning, Miss Marshall.”, “Can I get you anything, Miss Marshall?”, “Anything you want, Miss Marshall.” She was amazed that each person knew her name.

  She envisioned them in their morning staff meetings where she suspected her picture was passed around like a mug shot with explicit instructions to be especially nice and ass-kissing whenever the staff encountered her on the hotel property.

  When they had landed the night before, Mr. Montoya had been at the airport, standing next to a big black Escalade. He had hugged her and told her he was forever grateful to her for bringing his daughter back to him. He then hustled his daughter into the backseat of the car.

  Pilar barely uttered a dozen words on the short flight home, and she still looked in a daze as she lowered the power window and blankly stared at Libby. The chauffeur immediately hopped into the front seat, and the Escalade sped away.

  Mr. Montoya reminded her a little bit of Marlon Brando in The Godfather, only Cuban instead of Italian. She hoped she would never be in a position where she would need to ask him for a favor.

  “Miss Marshall, would you like me to refresh your drink?”

  She opened her eyes and looked over her sunglasses to see a young waiter, leaning in, tray in hand. “Yes, thanks. How about a Pina Colada?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back with your drink.” He was way too perky to be working out in the Florida summer sun.

  She watched as he scurried off towards the pool bar to fill her drink order. The pool area landscaping included lush tropical plants, blooming bromeliads and palms that surrounded the connecting circuitous pool areas. Might as well enjoy another little umbrella drink in this tropical paradise. She looked around at the children playing in the water, the honeymooners who were kissing at the edge of the pool and the umbrella drinks on the tables.

  Mimi would love this place. She wondered how Mimi was doing getting the café ready to reopen. Could it have been only a little more than a week since this all started? It seemed so much longer.

  She looked at her bandaged hand and wiggled her fingers. She was concerned about nerve damage. She wondered how she would be able to work that damn cappuccino machine with a bad hand. The palm of her hand along the stitch line had been throbbing a bit earlier, but the rum plus the pain pill seemed to help. She didn’t know if the pain was relieved or if she was a bit numb and didn’t notice it as much.

  With her bandaged hand, she felt for the remaining stitches in the healing wound on her scalp.

  Her thoughts wandered to the missing flash drive. Where could it have gone? Was it hidden somewhere in Max’s house? Did Jason lose it or did he destroy it?

  If the person who had possession of the flash drive understood the information, he or she could potentially, in time, set up another organization. Perhaps Libby could use the information residing on her backup drive to locate the people behind the current organization. Was it possible to gain access to the money hidden in the Caymans accounts?

  Her mind kept jumping from question to question and from one possibility to the next.

  What if Mario did stop Jason, took the flash drive and now it was in Montoya’s hands? After all, he did send Mario down to Key West to help her. Would Jason give it up without a fight? She had no doubts that Mario could be very convincing when putting his mind to it.

  And then there’s Tony. Surely, he wouldn’t break parole by getting involved in trafficking and money laundering, would he? Was this hotel part of it, too?

  “Miss Marshall, here’s your drink.”

  “Thank you,” she said as the waiter handed it to her. “Do you want
me to sign the check?”

  “No, ma’am. Mr. Cassinelli has taken care of it,” the young man said as he turned on his snow-white sneakers. She leaned forward to watch him take an order from the people in the next cabana.

  Ma’am?

  She took a drink and savored the cold, thick, coconutty flavor as her phone dinged, indicating the arrival of a text message. Setting the drink on the short table next to her, she picked up her phone and smiled when she saw the message was from Jack. A warm sensation flowed through her body, which she immediately attributed to the rum.

  Ready to go home?

  “Oh, hell, yes,” she said out loud.

  Yes. Tomorrow.

  She typed in her response and waited for his reply. She hadn’t thought about how she would get home. She had hoped Jack would volunteer to come pick her up, but knew that if he had given up on her that Tony would arrange for her get back to Mariposa Beach. The thing about that was, she didn’t want to owe Tony anything, especially a big favor. It was bad enough she owed him for the dress. She wanted to get home to the café, back to helping Mimi getting it ready to reopen, back to listening to David’s students singing to the customers and back to her little house two blocks from the shop and two blocks from the beach.

  The phone dinged, she took a breath and pressed the button to illuminate the message.

  Be out front at noon. I’ll be there.

  “All right!” She did a little fist pump.

  Awesome! C U then.

  She had just finished texting him the address when Tony popped his head into the cabana and said, “How was the visit to the spa?”

  She turned the phone over, looked up at him and said, “Awesome. Thank you. I needed that.”

  He looked good in a tailored, charcoal gray suit, the hotel’s business uniform. His full name, Anthony Cassinelli, and his title, Assistant Manager, was printed on the name tag pinned to his left lapel. She wondered why he wasn’t sweating in this August heat.