Bluewater Rendezvous: The Eighth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 8)

by Charles Dougherty

  At Mario's request, he'd been working with Dani to find John Welsh. Welsh had been on his way to join his fiancée on Dani's charter yacht when he disappeared at the Miami airport. Luke had heard about Dani from Paul for a couple of years, and he knew they were friends. So far, he liked her. She was an upfront type — no bullshit from her, and he sensed that she wouldn't tolerate it from others. She seemed like his kind of gal.

  This John Welsh thing was Luke's first venture with these people without Paul involved. He was alarmed at what he'd discovered so far. Welsh's fiancée was Angela Cappelletti. Everyone in law enforcement knew her father. Guido Cappelletti was the subject of an ongoing, multi-agency investigation. Luke was no stranger to the rivalries within the law enforcement world. He had worried that he might step on somebody's toes when he found out Welsh was the Cappelletti girl's boyfriend. Now, he suspected the Miami-Dade Airport Fire and Rescue people were stonewalling him.

  What should have been a routine inquiry about the two EMTs who had picked up John Welsh three nights ago had dragged on. Finally, a medical supervisor from Airport Fire and Rescue told him they had no record of any call related to a John Welsh. Nor had they picked up any other passenger from Welsh's flight. When Luke had pressed the man, he'd received a guarded response.

  Luke offered to send copies of his interview notes with the woman who had seen the EMTs take Welsh away. At that point, the supervisor had asked if he had names for the EMTs. Luke had responded that he didn't, but that one was a male Hispanic and the other was a blond female. The supervisor had put him on hold while he checked the duty roster.

  After a few minutes, the man came back on the line. "Sorry to keep you so long, Lieutenant, but this isn't making any sense. We don't show any calls from that terminal during the time window you gave us. And we got several Hispanic guys, but none of them were working that terminal three nights ago. And this blonde? That's even stranger. I don't mean to be a racist, or sexist, or whatever, but when you said blonde, I thought 'white woman,' you know?"

  "Yeah. That's what the witness said: white woman, blond hair in a ponytail," Luke said.

  "We only got one white woman that's an EMT, and she ain't blond — "

  "She ever wear a wig?" Luke asked.

  "I dunno, but it couldn't have been her. She's out on maternity leave."

  "Shit," Luke muttered. "I was beginning to think you guys were hiding something, but I guess not."

  "Nah, Lieutenant. We got some pretty tight procedures for responding to this kinda thing. People are forever tryin' to sue us. First thing we did, we checked you out, made sure you were who you said you were. Then we ran the whole thing past the damned lawyers. Aside from suits for negligence, we get nailed with claims we violated somebody's right to privacy. Sorry if it seemed like you got jerked around."

  "Thanks for explaining. I still have a missing person, last seen in a wheelchair on that concourse with two people dressed like EMTs pushing him out. You got any ideas?"

  "Hmm. They had to get through security comin' in. Grabbin' a wheelchair wouldn't have been a problem. Did they have any bags, like for their equipment? They woulda usually had a couple of canvas bags. If they didn't have i.d. cards, they woulda had to go through security like any other passenger. Unless they had i.d. or a boarding pass, I don't see how TSA woulda let them in."

  "Good points. Thank you. I'll follow up on that. Any EMT i.d.'s lost or stolen lately?"

  "I'll check and get back to you. It won't take so long this time."

  "Thanks." Luke hung up the phone and leaned back, putting his feet on his desk.

  The only thing remaining was to have someone review the recordings from the security cameras. He had arranged to get the recordings as soon as he had talked with the gate agent. Now he had to scrape together enough people to go through a couple of hours of recordings from two dozen cameras.

  Until he learned that no EMTs had responded, he had assumed that in the worst case, Welsh was in a local hospital. With what he had just learned, the probability shifted to favor foul play of some sort.

  Chapter 18

  "Did you talk to those EMTs?" Angela asked. The satellite phone was on the table in Vengeance's saloon. Luke Pantene had called while they were drinking their morning coffee, and Dani had put him on the speaker.

  "Well, no. But that's another story. We found John Welsh; I'll tell you straight out, he's alive, but not in great condition. He's — "

  "Why hasn't he — " Angela asked.

  "Ms. Cappelletti, he's in the ICU at Mercy. He's comatose, and they say his condition is guarded. He was beaten and left out in the Everglades. Two fishermen found him and called it in. He didn't have any i.d. on him. After we heard about the EMTs picking him up at the airport, we called all the hospitals in the area. We sent his picture to the ones with 'John Does.' Somebody saw a resemblance, but we couldn't be sure until we fingerprinted him. I'm sorry, but he's in good hands."

  "What happened to him?" Angela asked, "I mean you said he was — "

  "We're working on that," Luke interrupted. "We've got a call in to his office, to see if they have any ideas, and I wanted to ask you, can you think of anybody — "

  "My father," Angela blurted. "He didn't want me to see John anymore after ... "

  "After what, Ms. Cappelletti?"

  "After he decided that I should marry Joe Bones."

  "Joe Bones? You mean, Giuseppe Bruni?"

  "Yes. That's right. My father's Guido Cappelletti. Giuseppe Bruni is one of his, um, I don't even know how to describe the relationship."

  "That's okay. I know who both of them are."

  "Do they know when John's going to wake up? I mean ... um ... "

  "They won't say much. Head injuries are always tricky for them. The tests and scans all show that there doesn't appear to be permanent damage. They won't know much more until he recovers consciousness."

  "Okay, thanks. At least now I know."

  "I wish it were better news, Ms. Cappelletti. Besides your father and his people, did John ever mention anybody else who might wish him harm? An unhappy client, maybe?"

  "No. He did corporate work. I mean, he almost never even went to court. He did mergers and that kind of thing — nothing controversial."

  "I see. If you think of anything that might help, please call me right away. I need to get to work; we have some follow-up to do."

  "Okay. Can you tell me what that might be? Maybe it'll jog loose a memory or something."

  "Sure. It's boring, basic police work, but that's how we find the answers, sometimes. I've got people reviewing recordings from the security cameras in the concourse. We may get some shots of him with the EMTs. They weren't EMTs from the airport, by the way. And I'm going out with a crime scene team to go over the area where the fishermen found him. The air-ambulance guys got him out of there, but we've got the exact location from them. Like I said, nothing exciting. I'll let you know if we learn anything useful. And I'll make sure the hospital knows how to reach you when he wakes up."

  "Okay, thanks," Angela said.

  "Thanks, Luke. Talk with you later," Dani said, as she disconnected the call.

  ****

  "I have to go back," Angela sobbed. "Maybe if I just ... "

  "Go back?" Liz asked. "You mean and marry this Joe Bones character?"

  "Yes. Don't you see? There's no way to win against them. They make their own rules. I'm surprised John's still alive. When they find out, they'll kill him."

  "Don't be too hasty to make that decision, Angela," Dani said. "You're safe here for the moment, and I'm sure Luke's got a guard posted on John. If you give in, there's no way you can change your mind."

  "What are you saying? They're killers; I don't see a choice. Have you got some magic solution?"

  "No," Dani said. "I just don't think you should rush into an irreversible decision when you're overwrought. A day or so isn't going to matter. Take time to think. That's all I'm suggesting."

  "Take time to think? You ha
ve no idea what they're like. There aren't any options."

  "I've had some experience with people like them, first hand. So has Liz," Dani said. "There are always options. They just aren't obvious at first."

  "You don't have a clue! If you'd had experience with people like them, you'd be dead."

  "But I'm not dead," Dani said. "And believe me, I've known my share of ruthless people who thought they could intimidate me, or worse."

  "I'm sorry, Dani. I know you mean well, but how could you possibly come out on top in an encounter with someone like my father?"

  Dani said, "He thinks he's the only one in the game who doesn't have to play by the rules."

  "He's gotten where he is by wiping out the people who opposed him. They weren't playing by any rules," Angela said.

  "That's right, but he knew they weren't."

  "So? What are you saying?"

  "He expects us to behave in a certain way, to be scared of him, to run."

  "Of course. I don't ... "

  "He's not expecting us to attack, for example."

  "Attack? Attack how?"

  "That's why I think you should take a little time before you give up."

  "How could I attack them?"

  "I'm not suggesting that you should do this, but what if you went to the police with what you know? That's an attack of sorts."

  "They'd kill me. Probably him, too."

  "They'd no doubt try," Dani agreed. "But my point is, that's an option that you have. It's not without risk, and it's not one that I'd take. At least not until I'd done some things to protect myself."

  "Like what?"

  "I think we should defer this for a little while; you need to clear your head first."

  "What do you suggest, then? To clear my head, I mean?"

  "Exercise always works for me," Dani said.

  "I have an idea," Liz said. "Let's go ashore and hike to the top of Le Chameau."

  "Le Chameau?" Angela asked.

  "That's the tallest peak," Liz said, pointing it out. "It's a little over a thousand feet high. Napoleon's troops built a watchtower on top. It's paved road all the way, but it'll definitely give you a workout. There's a nice nature trail down the back side; if we take that, we can end up in a resort with a good restaurant. We'll eat a late lunch, and come back to the boat. By then, maybe we'll have some fresh ideas."

  "How about it?" Dani asked.

  Angela gave a listless shrug. "Why not?"

  ****

  Willy sat in his hotel room, cellphone in hand. He was working his way through the marinas listed in the telephone directory, asking for any sign of Vengeance. So far, he'd found nothing.

  He had talked with Fats's contact in U.S. Customs in San Juan when he arrived on an early morning flight from St. Thomas. The woman did favors for them in exchange for regular monthly deposits to her offshore bank account. She had assured him that Vengeance had not checked into Puerto Rico. Further, she had agreed to follow up over the next few days and call him if the vessel appeared. It was at her suggestion that he was calling the marinas in Fajardo to see if any held a reservation for Vengeance.

  Willy had provided her with the number of Carlotta Solanó's passport. He had gotten it from the man, Louis, in Antigua late yesterday. The woman in San Juan had obtained a color print of the first page of Carlotta Solanó's passport using the number Willy gave her. She would leave it at the hotel desk for him on her way home, as she lived near Fajardo.

  Willy disconnected from the last marina and glanced at his watch. The day was a bust, so far, except for the passport information. He considered his options. He could eat dinner in the hotel dining room while he waited for the copy of the passport. That would leave plenty of time for him to catch the last flight tonight from San Juan back to St. Thomas.

  He called Don Guido to give him a quick update.

  "No sign of them; no reservations at any of the marinas, and the gal in customs will call me if they show up," Willy said.

  "So, shit, Willy. Is the passport picture Angela?" Guido asked.

  "Ain't got it yet. She's gonna drop it off in an hour or so. I'll call you soon as I get a look at it."

  "All right. How's the weather been down there?"

  "Weather?" Willy's voice betrayed surprise; Guido rarely made small talk. "Okay, I guess. Nothin' unusual. Hot."

  "No storms?"

  "No, Don Guido. You thinkin' maybe they got delayed?"

  "Yeah. I was just tryin' to make sense out of it. You got any ideas?"

  "I think Fajardo was a red herring."

  "Yeah? What makes you think that?"

  "Well, Louis — you know, the guy we use in Antigua?"

  "Yeah. What about him?"

  "He says people put all kinds of shit on clearance forms where it asks for next port of call. None of the customs guys pay any attention to it, because boaters change their plans so much on the fly."

  "So you're thinkin' they decided to go somewhere else?"

  "Yeah. That, or they put the wrong place down on purpose. If they're tryin to stay outta sight, you know?"

  "That's a thought. But why would they be doin' that? Tryin' to stay outta sight, I mean."

  "If this Carlotta Solanó is really Angela, they would."

  "Yeah, maybe so. Call me soon as you get that passport. Then maybe we'll know."

  "You got it, Don Guido."

  ****

  Guido thought about what he'd learned from Willy. The suggestion that the women had laid a false trail was worrying him. That not only meant Angela was aboard Vengeance; it meant that the other women were working to help her hide. He didn't think a trick like that would have occurred to Angela. The fact that those women had thought to do that might mean there was more to this than just a fling on a charter boat. His rumination was interrupted by a call from Franco.

  "Yeah?" he answered. "What's up?"

  "I just got a call from Sol. Nothin' major, but he did pick up somethin' interesting on the Berger woman's half-brother."

  "What's that?"

  "He's a coke-head."

  "So?"

  "I said it was nothin' major, but you never know when shit like that might give us an edge."

  "Yeah, you're right. I'm just tryin' to make sense out of somethin' Willy said."

  "Oh? He find that boat?"

  "No. Just the opposite. He's got the notion that they maybe set up the Fajardo thing just to confuse us."

  "I don't know, Don Guido. You think Angela would think like that?"

  "No. But the only reason I can think of that they'd do it is that she's on that boat and tryin' to hide her tracks."

  "Yeah, I guess ... " Franco said.

  "But the thing is, if Angela didn't think of it, that means one of those women runnin' the boat did. Makes me think they may be a little shady. Normal people don't do shit like that, you know?"

  "Yeah, you got a point there. Willy hear back from Antigua?"

  "Yeah. Nothin' on the pictures we sent, but he got this Solanó broad's passport number. The gal in San Juan's gettin' him a printout of the first page of the passport with the picture. Then we'll know."

  "When?" Franco asked.

  Guido looked at his watch. "Should be any time, now. He's gonna call me."

  "Okay. Before I forget, there's more on this Roland Stanwicke."

  "That's the brother?"

  "Yeah. Half-brother."

  "Whatever," Guido said. "What about him?"

  "Seems like he was stealin' from one of the bank's clients to pay for his nose candy."

  "He's one of our customers, huh?"

  "Most likely," Franco agreed. "But that ain't all. He's in rehab at the place in south Jersey."

  "Our place?" Guido asked.

  "Yeah, that's right."

  "You were a damn genius to think of that angle, Franco. Sell 'em the shit until they can't see straight and then charge a fortune to help 'em kick the habit so we can sell 'em more shit." Guido laughed for the first time in several days.<
br />
  "Thanks, Don Guido. Anyhow, we know where to find the son of a bitch if we can use him for somethin'. Sol heard that when they were kids, he and Berger were tight. Might be worth somethin', might not."

  "Yeah. Hold that thought," Guido said, as his phone beeped in his ear. "Hang on, Franco. This might be Willy." Guido put Franco on hold and took the call.

  "Yeah?"

  "I got the picture. It could be Angela."

  "The fuck you mean, could be? Is it or isn't it?"

  "It's a passport picture, Don Guido. It's shitty; if Angela was standin' in front of me, I'd look at it and think she'd just had a rough night before they made her picture, maybe. But lookin' at it right now and rememberin' what she looks like, I can't say it's definitely her or not, you know?"

  "Yeah, okay. When you get to the villa, scan it and email me a copy. I got Franco on the other line. Talk later." Guido disconnected the call and switched back to Franco.

  "Gotta be her," Franco said, after Guido told him about Willy's comments. "Nothin' else makes sense."

  ****

  Luke Pantene braked to avoid the alligator that meandered across the road. He wondered why the big reptiles hadn't foraged on the human head they'd found at the spot where John Welsh had been dumped. There was no scarcity of the creatures; it was hard to believe that they'd once been an endangered species. His working premise was that neither Welsh nor the head had been on the little hummock of dry land long enough to attract the beasts.

  The choice of location itself was a puzzle. He couldn't imagine why the person who dumped Welsh and the head had chosen to put them on dry land. He would have weighted them and dropped them in one of the deeper spots, himself. The Everglades had been a dumping ground for corpses for a long time; most of the remains were never found. Though he had no proof, he had every reason to suspect that this was the work of Guido Cappelletti's henchmen. He shook his head; sometimes the actions of the low-level mobsters were beyond comprehension. High intelligence was not a trait that was valued in the mob's rank and file.

  Maybe whoever dumped Welsh for Cappelletti had intended to come back for some reason. Had they known he wasn't dead? Had they been planning some further use for Welsh? Was some ghoul planning to sell his organs? Stranger things had happened down here in south Florida. There was no way to know.