“Today is the sixth day. You’re right about that.”
“And,” FJ said through a widening smile, “has your investigation arrived at any conclusions?”
“Several,” Derek said.
“Care to share them with me? After all, you have interrupted my walk. Though I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed your company. I’m not suggesting you owe me anything, mind you. I’m just curious about why you decided to pay me a visit.”
“Don’t mind sharing at all,” Derek said. “You first, though.”
“Pardon me?”
“You had one goon near the start of your walk. Close to your home. Figured a guy like you would have another hired thug near your turn-around point. Call in sick or on another assignment?”
“Reassigned for a more urgent need. At least, I thought it was more urgent. Didn’t expect to be joined on my walk by an investigator carrying a gun in his pocket.”
“Makes sense. Taking matters into your own hands. That’s what I would have done, too. District Attorney can’t pin Gracers’ murder on my client, meaning Jessica is out and about. You needed to intervene. Make sure she doesn’t get what you’re after.”
“Making sure she doesn’t get what she does not deserve, Derek. She doesn’t deserve a thin dime of her husband’s capital.”
“And you do?”
“Better me than her,” FJ said as he lifted his face to catch the first warming rays of the rising sun.
“Fair enough.”
“Your turn,” FJ said. “I shared, now you share. What did your investigation uncover? What brilliant conclusions have you reached?”
“Craig Washburn was probably costing you more money than he was bringing in. He was worth more dead to you than alive. Didn’t put that together till you told me about your ‘key person’ policies. Makes sense, though.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“You had him killed. Had the Trainer brothers dump his body in the bay. You walked away clean as a whistle and with an extra five million in your pocket.”
“Improvable,” FJ replied.
“Glad to hear you’re not denying it.”
“No reason to. Deny and you’re certain to believe me to be a liar. Confess that I had Craig murdered, and you’ll run to the police. I’ll just listen to what your investigation uncovered, but I have no interest in debating your conclusions.”
“Your turn.”
“And your question would be?”
“How the hell did a guy like you ever cross paths with a scumbag like Jackson Trainer?”
“I own or have owned properties all over the southern United States. Had an apartment building in Alabama, which needed some repair work completed.”
“One thing led to another.”
FJ simply nodded.
“What else? What else with regards to your investigation?”
“I know you had nothing to do with Sam Gracers’ murder. Nothing to do with Brian Hilton’s, either.” Derek paused, took a long, staggered breath through his nose. Pushed back the tears he expected to make an entrance. “And you didn’t kill my partner. That’s the only reason you’re still alive. If I even suspected you had anything to do with Nikkie’s death, your brains would be washing up on shore.”
“You’ve reached the appropriate conclusion on all three unfortunate events. Most unfortunate about your partner.”
“Your turn. What time does the financial institution open?”
FJ stopped again. Knitted his eyebrows, squinted his eyes.
“What are you talking about? Which financial institution?”
“The one holding Sam Gracers’ private accounts. The ones you have power of attorney over. Or at least you will once Jessica is out of the picture. Your goon isn’t going to find her. Not at her home. Not at the bank or brokerage house or wherever the hell Sam’s money is. But you knew that already. Sending one of your thugs was a long shot at best. Figured you could manage your beach walk in safety with just one thug keeping watch. But you knew your other goon wouldn’t find Jessica curled up in bed. Knew he wouldn’t put a bullet between her eyes the second before she logged on to the bank’s website, entered the proper credentials and transferred every last cent into some offshore account of hers. You just sent him over in case he got lucky. The real work was going to be done by you. Sitting in front of a computer, sipping some damn protein shake or smoothie, clicking away till Sam’s money was moved from one place to another.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Derek could see a hint of panic behind FJ’s eyes. A trace of worry, blended in with a pressing fear.
“Want to know why I came all the way down here to see you? Why I took out your thug? Because I’m not going to let you near a computer, phone, tablet or anything capable of accessing Sam’s money.”
“You’d rather Jessica have it all? You know she murdered Sam. She murdered your partner? You know that, don’t you? Yet, you’d see her walk away with nearly two hundred million dollars?”
“Had to make a choice,” Derek said. “Either confront Jessica or keep you from getting Sam’s money. I had no evidence to prove Jessica killed Sam and no evidence she killed Nikkie. None. Only thing I would have done was to kill her myself. Would have ended up in jail for the next fifteen to twenty. You’d not only get whatever funds were in Sam’s private accounts but probably a whole lot more. Couldn’t let that happen. Won’t let that happen.”
“You’re seriously going to let Jessica Gracers get away with two murders and close to two million dollars? She killed your partner.”
“Only thing that makes sense.”
“You could have called the police. Told them what your thoughts were.”
“Did that. Had a chat with a detective this morning. Told her everything I suspected. Everything I knew. Told her exactly what I was going to do and why. Jessica isn’t in jail and she can leave her home for up to four hours a day. She’s probably gone already. May have even let the police know she was leaving and would be back before the four hours were up. Nothing they could do.”
“They could have questioned her about your accusations. Could have brought in for questioning. Damn Cole, you let a murderer free to roam the damn world.”
“I’ll catch up with her. That’s for damn sure.”
FJ glanced at his watch. Started to move when Derek grabbed his arm.
“You can’t be serious, Derek? Are you actually planning on holding me so I can’t return to my home?”
“Not exactly,” Derek said. “You and I are going to keep walking. Going to keep talking. I’m going to make you an offer and you are going to accept my offer. Figure you’ll be back in your house a little after nine.”
“You do realize we are not the only people on this beach? All I need to do is call out for help and someone would certainly assist.” FJ turned his head, looked at the two sets of footprints which led to where he and Derek were now standing. “I appreciate your situation, Derek. I do. But I have business to attend to. Feel free to join me, but I’m going back to my home.”
Derek released his hold of FJ’s shoulders. Let him start walking back the way they had come.
“Jackson Trainer tapped Hilton’s cell phone,” Derek called to FJ who was twenty feet away. “Actually, his brother Bobby did the tapping. Only, I’m not sure it’s called tapping when you listen in to a conversation on a cell phone. Probably call it some fancy term, but ‘tapping’ gets the message across.”
FJ continued walking, didn’t slow down or turn around.
“Whatever was heard is inadmissible in court. No judge in the country would allow a hacked conversation to ever see time in court.”
Derek started after FJ. Gripped his pistol, hard. Drew it up an inch or two.
“They overheard you talking about Sam Gracers being killed by the ‘sick bitch.’ You said she probably did you a favor. Sam knew about the cancer scam you and Hilton were running. Taking advantage of people like Matt Steel.”
“In
admissible,” was all FJ said. He kept walking. Same pace, same stride. Same carefree glide to his steps.
“Jackson recognized your voice. Said he worked with you in the past. Said you hired him to kill Craig Washburn. Didn’t hear the whole story, but the officer up in Dothan told me Jackson was angling for a plea bargain agreement. The way I figure it, the DA up in that county will be calling Julia Steinberg this morning. She’ll be asking a whole lot of questions.”
“Call came in last night,” FJ said as he waved his right hand dismissively in the air. “Nothing to be concerned about on my end.”
“Kind of figured that,” Derek, who had closed to within five feet of FJ, said. “I was told Steinberg is the odds on favorite to replace Congressman Wiggins when he announces his retirement. Figured Steinberg would need to have someone like you backing her bid for Congress. She probably called you the second after she got off the phone with the Dothan area DA.”
“I don’t get involved in politics, Derek. Haven’t the stomach for it.”
“Don’t blame you. Not at all. Only problem is, if Julia runs for Congress and gets elected, there’ll be a new DA in town. Julia won’t be calling the shots about who they investigate and who they don’t.”
“I’m sure a replacement has already been handpicked. Like I said, nothing to be concerned about on my end.”
“You’re probably right,” Derek said, now walking stride for stride next to FJ. “Still, there is that other doctor in Tampa you need to be concerned about. With the Trainer brothers behind bars, I’m curious about what that doctor will say when the cops show up at his door this morning.” Derek pulled his iPhone from his left pocket. Checked the time. Looked at three text messages he was expecting, then slid the phone back. “Probably getting a knock on his door any minute now.”
“This walk has taught me something, Derek. I don’t think I need to have two of my associates watching my back while I’m walking. One should be enough. That is, of course, as long as you won’t be planning on subduing my one remaining associate.”
Derek fell silent. Started thinking about FJ’s other goon. The one who would usually be posted at FJ’s turnaround point. He assumed FJ would have reassigned the second thug to either pay Jessica Gracers a visit or to call on Mark Ruggerio. FJ probably had more than two hired guns working for him. No reason to believe FJ couldn’t have sent one to Jessica’s and one to make sure the doctor was taken care of. For all he knew, Jessica could be lying dead; bullet between her eyes and the doctor could already be shoved into the back of some nondescript sedan, headed for a deserted stretch of ocean coast.
During his walk with Detective Rachel Gonzales earlier that day, Derek told her what he believed happened to Sam and Nikkie. Told her what FJ would probably be planning. Had her work with the Tampa City Police to watch over Mark Ruggerio’s house. Also asked her to have an unmarked sheriff’s cruiser outside Jessica’s home. The text messages he received were from Rachel, telling him the surveillance was in place in both locations.
Rachel had written in the first text message:
All quiet on both fronts.
The second text, sent thirty-minutes after the first, read:
Gracers leaving house. Got a tail on her. Will let U know what happens. Stay safe and remember what I told U.”
Chapter 42
“I am seriously beginning to grow curious about how exactly you plan to prevent me from doing the work I need to do.” FJ had resumed walking back to his home. Same pace as before. Same half-grin playing across his lips. “I’m wondering if you plan on tackling me and holding me down for a couple of hours, or knocking me out, tying me up with my own shoe laces and tossing me beside my associate in the dune grass. I know you won’t use your gun, so you may as well tuck it back into your pocket.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Derek said. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
FJ shot Derek a sideways glance. Shook his head a little. Started to pick up his pace.
“You know, people like me, we have access to plenty of resources.”
Derek said, “Not here, you don’t. Not on this beach. No one here but you and me. The few others walking around, don’t give two shits about you or me.”
“How terribly shortsighted of you, Derek. You need to learn to look beyond the present. Learn to make calculated assumptions about the approaching future. Doing so effectively is key to success.”
Derek offered no response.
The two continued walking in silence, with both taking occasional glances at the time.
When they reached the point where the bay began, FJ made no attempt to hide his interest in looking for movement in the dune grass. When, after ten long seconds of staring, his eyes fixed for any movement, he saw nothing, he turned to Derek, and said, “Just how hard did you kick my associate?”
“Hard enough,” Derek said as he too turned to scan the grassy area. “He’ll be fine. Probably.”
“Your attack on him will be enough to land you in jail,” FJ said.
“Never will happen.”
Derek began scanning the beach behind and in front of him. Waiting for the right time.
“Preparing for something, are you?” FJ asked. Though his voice wasn’t revealing it, fear was building in FJ. Derek was still a complete unknown. While FJ knew some basics about him—having been briefed by his security team about Derek and Nikkie when it was reported the two were visiting Jessica in jail—he had no knowledge of Derek’s history to make an educated assumption of just how far this freelance detective was willing to go to keep him from completing his work. FJ looked at his watch again, saw the second hand drawing close to 7:30. Knew that if Jessica Gracers was still alive, that she’d be preparing to access the brokerage house’s online portal. She’d probably have her finger hovering over the “Transfer Funds” button on the accounts page, just waiting for eight o’clock to arrive.
Derek’s left hand was plowed into his pocket. That was a relief for FJ, for the gun was in Derek’s right pocket. Only thing he’d seen Derek pull out of his left pocket, was an early model iPhone.
“It’s amazing what things you can learn if you just listen closely to what people tell you,” Derek said after a long stretch between FJ’s question. “Most things you hear are useless. Idle banter, trivial crap. Completely useless. The mistake most people make is treating too much of what they’ve heard as useless. Take for example what Jessica Gracers told Nikkie and me when she was telling us her alibi.” He paused, waited several beats. “She was telling us about one of your new partner announcement dinners. In fact, it was the dinner she claimed to have had sex with Brian Hilton for the first time. Upstairs at the country club.”
FJ dropped his head, starting shaking it. Put a broad smile on his face.
“You were played, Derek. Sorry to have to be so blunt, but Jessica played you. That country club Jessica told you about? The one she claims to have had sex with Brian? It doesn’t have an upstairs. Single story club house. Pro shop set back from the first tee. A few smaller structures, used for maintenance and offices. None have a second story. Unless she and Brian had sex on the roof, she lied to you.”
“I figured that out already,” Derek returned, a smile filling his face as well. “Hilton told me he was gay. Don’t know much about being gay, but I don’t think a gay man would risk much of anything just to have sex with the wife of one of his business partners. Wouldn’t make sense. Never believed the story from the get-go. But, she did mention something else I found interesting. Didn’t know it would be useful at the time, but I stuffed in the back of my mind. You know, just in case.”
“And what, if I may ask, lie from the lips of Jessica Gracers did you tuck away for future use?”
FJ heard a cracking sound. Sounded like it was coming from Derek’s left pocket. Derek’s hand was still plunged into the pocket and as he looked down, FJ saw Derek was making a fist with his left hand. Angry looking knuckles causing sharp looking points in the cloth of Derek’s short
s.
“Cracking your knuckles?” FJ asked. “Going to knock me out? Here, right on the beach? Go ahead and try.” FJ stopped in his tracks. Puffed out his chest a bit. Clenched his own fists. “You’re going to be surprised to find I’m far more difficult an opponent than was my associate.”
“Not planning on kicking your ass, FJ,” Derek said. “Just wondering if you’re interested in a little snack. Long walks always build my appetite. How about you?”
Derek shot his hand from his pocket, pressed his open palm into FJ’s face. Rubbed the crushed peanuts, along with plenty of the peanut dust, into FJ’s face. Then he pulled his hand back, blew the remaining peanut dust from his hands directly into FJ’s face.
“I hear you have quite a reaction to peanuts.”
FJ stumbled backwards, his hands furiously brushing the peanut dust and debris from his face. He kept stumbling backwards until he was knee deep in the salt water of the bay. He plunged his face into the water. His hands working beneath the water to scrub away the dust. When he raised his face from the water, Derek could see how immediate FJ’s body was reacting to the peanuts. His eyes were already showing signs of the approaching swelling. His face was reddened, not by the furious wiping of his hands, but from the coursing histamine being flooded into FJ’s blood stream.
FJ buried his face in the water again. Dropped his entire body beneath the water. Stayed like that for several seconds. Looked to Derek like he wasn’t going to emerge on his own.
Derek pulled out his cell phone, dialed 911. Told the dispatcher there was a man having what looked like a heart attack on the beach. Gave the specific location. Offered his name, said he was walking next to this guy, offered him some peanuts and “The guy just freaked out. Said he was allergic to peanuts. Started to get all red and puffy in the face. Jumped in the damn ocean. Better get someone down here, quick.”
Derek slid his phone back into his pocket, and then walked over to the still body of FJ DeNuzzio. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Dragged him onto shore. Turned him around so his mouth wasn’t buried in sand.
Deathly Reminders: a Derek Cole Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 6) Page 25