Rising Fury: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 12)

by Wayne Stinnett

  “I told you to look at Brady first.”

  “There’s nothing pointing to him,” she said. “And we’ve already checked. Brady came on duty at zero nine hundred and never left the office. Marty was shot around noon.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I said. I didn’t wait for Devon to reply, and ended the call. And I’ll have my own damned security.

  Pulling up Kim’s number, I hit Send and waited. After the third ring, I was about to hang up when she answered.

  “Where are you?” I asked, a bit too urgently.

  “Just past Fort Myers,” Kim replied. “I stopped to get gas. What’s wrong?”

  At least she’s not driving, I thought.

  “You need to come back,” I told her, as Savannah walked toward me. “Marty’s been hurt. He’s in the hospital.”

  I gave Kim directions to the little airport in Labelle and told her that a friend of mine would meet her there shortly. I told her what I knew about Marty and told her that he was going to be okay, though I had no way of knowing that. Then I called Billy Rainwater, who lived in Labelle.

  “Billy,” I said. “It’s me. I need help.”

  “Just name it,” Billy said. He and I had grown up together, hunting and fishing all around southwest Florida.

  “My daughter’s boyfriend’s been shot.”

  “Who did it?” Billy asked. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Nothing like that, brother. Kim’s on her way up to Gainesville. She’s near Fort Myers now. You know a good pilot I can hire?”

  “I’ll make a call,” Billy said. “We’ll have the engines spooled up and waiting when she gets here.”

  Calling Kim back, I told her to look for Billy when she got to the airport and he’d make sure she got here quickly.

  “What’s going on?” Savannah asked, concern in her voice and in her expressive eyes.

  “There’s been a shooting and Marty’s hurt,” I said.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I need to go to the hospital on Marathon,” I told her. “But I need to get you to the Anchor.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Savannah said. “We can get a ride from the hospital back to the boat.”

  Within minutes, we’d said our goodbyes to the others and cast off. I made some other phone calls on the way. If Marty’s boss had anything to do with it, he’d be in danger from the inside. I wanted people I knew I could trust at the hospital, just in case.

  We arrived at Marathon City Marina twenty minutes and two more phone calls later. I explained what was going on to the dockmaster, a guy I’d met a few times.

  “Y’all go ahead on over,” Gregg said. “I’ll put your boat in a slip.”

  Thanking him, I led Savannah and Florence through a few parking lots, reaching the hospital entrance on Overseas Highway just a few minutes later.

  We made our way through a maze of corridors and found the emergency-room lobby. Ben Morgan was there, but Devon wasn’t. Morgan and a doctor were talking to Marty’s dad, Ben Phillips. We shook hands and the doctor introduced herself as Melissa Trumble. She continued talking to Phillips. Apparently, he’d only just arrived himself.

  “He should be waking up soon,” Doctor Trumble said. “I’ll take you both back to see him in just a moment.” Then she turned to Morgan. “But please limit your questions and if I say leave, you leave. Do you understand, Detective?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Morgan replied.

  I grabbed Morgan’s arm as he started to leave. “Where’s Devon?”

  “I sent her back over to Marty’s house,” he told me. “She and Joe are good. And they work well with the tech guys.”

  “What do you know, Ben?”

  Morgan held a finger up to the doctor. “Give us just a minute,” he said and led Ben and I over to a group of chairs. We sat, and he explained all that he said he knew—but he didn’t mention Brady. The rage inside me seethed, but I kept it under control. Ben Phillips took it all in. He seemed in shock or something. When Morgan finished, he and Phillips joined the doctor and disappeared through the door.

  We waited. Rusty was the first to arrive. I paced. Deuce got there an hour later, along with Julie, Chyrel, Tony, and Andrew. Deuce told me that Paul Bender and Tom Broderick were both out of town, but would be returning tomorrow.

  Tony and Andrew both carried bags. I knew what was in them. Enough food, clothes, and anything else they might need to last them two days. I knew these guys well. I was one of them, and that made Kim and Marty one of them by default. They’d be close by for as long as it took. Though Marty was still in intensive care, there was now zero chance that he’d be hurt again.

  Kim called; she was in a twin-engine Beechcraft and would be landing in ten minutes. Julie volunteered to pick her up, but Kim said that Billy and his friend had a car waiting at the airport. We waited some more. I paced some more.

  Finally, Kim arrived along with Billy and another man. When she came through the door, she looked around until she saw me, and came running into my arms. I held her. Rusty came over and put an arm around her, then Julie and Deuce, followed by Tony and Andrew. The whole time I held her I whispered repeatedly, “He’s okay, he’s okay.”

  Morgan came out, putting his note pad in the inside pocket of his coat. “Miss McDermitt,” he said. “Marty’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

  Morgan pushed the call button and a nurse opened the door. “Take Miss McDermitt to see Deputy Phillips, please.”

  Kim ran past him and disappeared through the door. I took Billy’s extended arm and pulled him in close. “Thanks, brother.”

  “I know you, my friend,” he whispered softly. It was a greeting he and I used, and we’d only shared it with one or two others. Growing up, Billy and I had shared a lot and we knew each other as well as any two brothers. Releasing my old Indian friend, I turned to his pilot.

  His face was familiar, but I couldn’t place him until Billy reminded me of the time I’d flown up to Labelle last hurricane season. Steve Carter had put my plane in his hangar for a few days.

  “Thanks for bringing my daughter down,” I said to Steve and Billy, as I pulled them aside and reached for my wallet.

  Billy stopped me. “I took care of it.”

  “Another favor?”

  “Poker debt,” Steve said, with a grin. “Any excuse to get in the air, right?”

  Knowing Billy as well as I did, I had serious doubts that it was a poker loss. Gambling requires risk, and Billy’s about the most cautious person I know. I thanked Steve and told him that if he wanted to stay over, I’d cover his hotel and meals.

  My oldest daughter Eve arrived a few minutes later, along with her husband and father-in-law. The elder Maggio eyed me warily and finally got me off to one side.

  “If there’s anything me or my firm can do to help,” he said.

  Several years ago, the Maggio law firm was involved in something that quickly got them in over their heads; a plot to not only steal a fortune in treasure that Doc Talbot had found a clue to, but also to kill anyone who got in the way. I was one of those who was in the way, along with many of my friends. The East-European thugs that were hired weren’t quite up to the job. The fact that his son was married to my daughter is the only thing that kept them alive. They quickly learned the error of their ways, turned over a new leaf, and no surprise, became more successful than in the past.

  “Thanks,” I said. “My guys will handle it.”

  “I still know people,” Maggio said, then grinned. “Haven’t talked to any of them in a long while, but I still know them.”

  “Our guys are more than up to the task,” I replied.

  One by one as they’d arrived, I’d introduced Savannah to my extended family. She and Florence stayed. The little girl busied herself with a coloring book, while Savannah sat down with Julie, and Eve in the corner. I joined them, sitting next to Savannah. We talked in low whispers.

  The sun’s rays were angling into
the lobby area through the door. It was nearly sunset. The automatic doors opened, and a uniformed deputy strode in. He wore sergeant’s chevrons. He moved toward the counter, then spotted Morgan and angled toward him. Seeing the man’s nametag, I started to rise. Savannah grabbed my hand and pulled me back down between her and Florence.

  She leaned close and whispered softly into my ear. “This isn’t a good place. Is that the man you suspect?”

  “Marty’s boss,” I said quietly, so only Savannah could hear. “The guy he turned crucial evidence over to, which somehow never went any farther.”

  Savanna put a hand on my bare knee. “Evidence about the wreck my sister died in?” Her hand on my knee distracted me. The warmth radiating from her touch sent chills up my spine.

  The idea hit me like a ton of bricks. There wasn’t any grudge or misunderstanding between Brady and Marty. There was a lot more to this. Brady was involved in something, and it had to do with the shrimp boats and meth. The missing head and the attempt on Marty were parts of a cover-up. I could almost smell the guilt on him.

  I stood up slowly, not taking my eyes off Brady. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tony rise from another small couch where he and Chyrel had been sitting, working at her computer. On the other side of the lobby, Andrew was leaning against a wall talking to Deuce. Both men turned, when they saw me moving toward Brady and Ben.

  “Because major crimes is my bailiwick,” Ben said to Brady, as I got close enough to hear.

  Devon hadn’t informed me just what she’d told Ben about the missing head. From his body language as I approached, I assumed she’d told him everything. He stiffened and stepped back slightly.

  “Have you learned something?” I asked both men, extending my hand to Brady.

  Savannah was suddenly at my side, holding my left arm with one hand and clutching Florence close to her with the other.

  Brady took my hand without thinking. “And you are?”

  “Jesse McDermitt,” I replied, squeezing his hand much harder than necessary. Deuce, Tony, and Andrew formed up around us.

  His grip had been firm until I said my name. Hearing it, he flinched as if he were certain that he’d never be meeting anyone by that name, ever again. It was almost like he thought I’d been blown up on a wrecked shrimp boat, outside territorial waters. The rage simmering inside me cranked up another notch.

  I’ve met my share of bad people; they’re all over the world. The worst ones are those who pretend to be on the side of good, and all the while, their moral compass doesn’t show true north.

  I felt Andrew’s presence behind me. He’s an imposing man. Not quite as tall as me, but every bit as heavy. He was built like a fireplug, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest.

  The change in Brady’s eyes was more than enough to tell me that he had something to do with both the explosion on the wreck, and with Marty lying in a bed somewhere here in the hospital.

  “Jesse,” Ben said, as my eyes bored holes through the back of Brady’s skull. “Can I talk to you?”

  Releasing his hand, I slowly moved toward Ben, while keeping my eyes on Brady. My friends were right, I don’t have much of a poker face. My thoughts are easily transmitted in my expression, and right now, I was wondering just how long it might take me to strangle the son of a bitch. Probably less than a minute and a half, at most. I’m also pretty good at reading other’s expressions. His reaction to my presence told me that he had it coming.

  I followed Ben outside.

  When the doors whisked closed behind us, Morgan turned toward me. “I didn’t like the look in your eyes, just then.”

  “What do you know?” I asked him bluntly.

  “I know you were with Deputy Phillips when a human head was found, along with parts of what might or might not have come from a meth lab. I know you’re a very dangerous man, and I know that look I saw in your eyes. I know Sergeant Brady has been having financial and marital problems. What I don’t know is what connection he might have to any—”

  The door made a swooshing sound as it slid open. Chyrel and Deuce came out to join us.

  “I followed the money,” Chyrel said.

  Deuce eyed Morgan. “And your Sergeant Brady just left by the main entrance,” he added.

  Morgan’s head jerked around suddenly, looking inside. “Okay,” he said, turning to Deuce. “You guys have resources unavailable to us. Or more precisely, unusable in court. I know this, and I know how it works. Tell me what you know.”

  “You first,” I said. “What did Marty say?”

  “He saw the guy,” Morgan said. “It wasn’t Brady, and Brady has an alibi. He was at his desk from nine this morning, until he left to come here.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not part of it somehow,” I said.

  Morgan looked over at Chyrel, who was thumbing through her tablet. “No, it doesn’t. But it certainly lessens the likelihood.”

  “Not necessarily,” Chyrel said.

  Morgan grinned. “Go ahead. But I’m doubting that anything you tell me will be admissible in court.”

  “It won’t be,” she said, with a disarming smile, “but once you get probable cause, you can subpoena his financials. You’ll definitely find something of interest there.”

  “And what’s that?” Morgan asked.

  “The average Monroe County deputy, at a sergeant’s pay rate with Brady’s time with the department, earns about sixty thousand a year, or five thousand a month, before deductions, right?”

  “I haven’t checked lately, but knowing you folks, I’d say that’s probably a true-enough assessment.”

  “Do you know if Sergeant Brady has another job, moonlighting as security at the mall or something?”

  “Nothing,” Morgan replied. “A lot of the younger deputies do, but County employees are required to divulge anything like that, and Brady hasn’t. I already checked.”

  Chyrel smiled. “Then how’s he depositing an extra five thousand a month, besides what the county pays him through direct deposit, every month since July?”

  The forensics team spent two hours bagging and tagging a bunch of evidence. The inside door knob had a good thumb print that at first glance didn’t match any of the dozens that were lifted from the barbells in the spare bedroom. All the prints lifted would be run through the computer for a more positive identification or elimination.

  “I’m betting that the print on the door knob is our shooter,” Joe said. “He or she let themselves in, they knew where to find Deputy Phillips, and shot him in his sleep. Considering the used condom, maybe a jealous lover?”

  “I know the girl he’s dating,” Devon said, standing at the foot of the bed where Marty had been shot. “That’d be so out of character, my mind can’t reach around it.”

  “Happens all the time. Guy has another girl on the side, wife or girlfriend catches them, and the wife just snaps.”

  “We don’t have anything to go on yet,” Devon said. “You go sit on the lab rats and let me know when they come up with anything useful.”

  “You’re going back to the hospital?”

  “Yeah,” Devon replied. “Marty should be waking up soon.”

  They left the room and went down the stairs to the main floor. Devon’s mind kept straying. The truth was that she felt haunted by the sight of Jesse with Savannah Richmond and her daughter. It hurt her a little, that the child might be his. If so, he’d want to make things right by the woman, maybe even be an active participant in raising the child. It’s the kind of man Jesse was. Besides, she knew that their relationship probably wouldn’t be a lasting one. They had different lifestyles, and eventually it would come down to him moving to Key West or her moving to his island, neither of which had any chance of happening. The Richmond woman was more suited for Jesse; she lived on a boat.

  “Call me if you learn anything,” Joe said, as they both went down the outside stairs to the parking area.

  Outside, Devon looked around. Marty’s patrol boat was tied to the dock
just fifty yards away. “Did anyone check Marty’s boat?”

  “I don’t think so,” Joe replied. “Think the killer might have been on it or something?”

  “No idea,” she said, walking toward the patrol boat.

  Stepping down onto the boat, it rocked slightly, causing Devon to nearly lose her balance. The boat was immaculate, fiberglass polished to a bright shine and all the chrome glittering in the last rays of the sun.

  She went forward, noticing a few flies on one of the forward fish boxes. The smell hit her, as she neared the bow. Opening the box, she wretched as the stench escaped.

  “Call the forensics team,” she said up to Joe on the dock. “Tell them to turn around. And call the coroner.”

  “That what I think it is?”

  “Nothing to lose your head about,” Devon said, stepping back up beside him on the dock.

  “You’re a sick bitch, you know that?”

  “I try,” Devon said, as she turned and started toward the parking lot. “Tell Doc Fredrick to see if he can get a blood and DNA match to one of the other body parts he has.”

  “Does he really need to come out here?” Joe asked. “I mean, it’s just the head. Even I can tell the guy’s dead.”

  “Procedures, Joe, procedures.”

  Devon got in her county-issued sedan and drove while she thought about the events of the day. The drive from Little Torch Key to Marathon wasn’t a long one, but the Seven Mile Bridge allowed her time to put things together in her mind before she arrived at the hospital.

  When she turned from Overseas Highway into the parking lot at Fishermen’s Hospital, the sun was almost to the horizon in her rearview mirror. In front of the main entrance, Devon saw two sedans, similar to her own, parked in the emergency vehicle parking area and was about to continue and park next to Ben’s car, when she saw Steve Brady getting out of the other sedan.