Caribbean Rain

by Rick Murcer

  “Good morning, agents. I’m Donald Flores, owner of this establishment and head instructor.”

  He carried an American accent, definitely not Puerto Rican born and raised. Midwest maybe.

  “I’m Agent Lee, and this is Agent Corner. That was an impressive move at the end of your class.”

  He raised his thick eyebrows, making his brown eyes seem smaller than they were. He definitely had a charm and a sense of who he was.

  “Do you know this leisure pursuit, Agent?”

  “I do, or at least did. I was no Mirtheska Escanellas, but I didn’t hurt myself either.”

  “Ah. You know of our Olympian. But I suspect you aren’t here to discuss the highlights of Puerto Rican fencing.”

  Flores shifted his feet, and Sophie made a mental note of his nervousness. It could be nothing because most people get nervous when they talk to the Feds.

  “You’re right. We have questions regarding murders in the rainforest.”

  “Yes. I saw the paper this morning. But they didn’t really go into much detail on how the people died.”

  “We didn’t release much information,” said Josh.

  Dr. Flores nodded, his thin lips keeping a straight line.

  “Okay. Let’s get to it. The people murdered in El Yunque were butchered, Dr. Flores. Someone used a sword, apparently an old one, and had a slash-and-dash party.”

  “Oh my,” he answered. “That’s awful.”

  “It is. So you understand why we’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be blunt.”

  “I can see you’re good at that, Agent Lee,” he smiled.

  “This person is accomplished at the game, as you call it. They’re in good shape, bright, and may have a hobby for collecting old swords. Do you know anyone like that, Dr. Flores?”

  He shrugged. “Well, yes. Half of the male members in this club could fit that description.”

  “I didn’t say male, I said ‘person’. Why did you assume the killer’s male?”

  Flores never hesitated. “It was just that, Agent Lee, an assumption. We don’t have many female adult members, so if your suspect is female, that would narrow the search.”

  “And . . .”

  “And I teach criminal justice at the University down the street. I know about percentages and profiles, that’s all.”

  “Interesting. So you’d be familiar with forensic processes?” asked Sophie.

  “I also know how to apply counter-forensic measures,” he added. “But since I just got back from the States about two this morning, I’m not your guy.”

  “Fair enough, and of course, you won’t mind if we check that out.”

  “Not at all. See Rachel on the way out, and she’ll give you my itinerary for the last three days.”

  “Thank you, we will. Dr. Flores, who is your current club champion?”

  “The open club champion is Dr. Royce Major. He also teaches at the University. But he’s not really the sword collector that some of the others are. He loves the competitons, and he regularly beats me, especially with a saber in his hand.”

  “Anyone else that might fit that profile?”

  “Like I said, there are several who could. I’ll have Rachel get you a list of members who fit that bill, if you think that would help.”

  “What? Not asking for a subpoena?”

  “Heavens, no. I—we’ve nothing to hide, as far as I know. These are all upstanding men. If they’re not, then I don’t want them here anyway.”

  “Anyone here get real pissy when they lose a match, or at least frustrated?”

  He opened his hands. “There is always a high level of energy in practice and the weekly matches. So again, I’d say that’s most of us.”

  Sophie moved closer to Flores, looking up to the man eight inches taller than her. She scowled. “Listen, Flores. I don’t give a shit about club politics or how much money any of these people pay to keep this dive in the black, but you’re not telling me everything I want to know. So, one more time: who are the hot heads that come here and swing swords at the other members? Now.”

  His eyes darted at the floor, then back to Sophie. “There are two men who hate one another and get ‘pissy’ as you say when they lose to each other, and to anyone else, for that matter. Charles Johnson and Dr. David Collins. I’ve had to suspend both of them at least twice, and they are on probation and unable to participate in any events regarding Puerto Rico’s Fencing Federation sponsorship. Their information will be on the list we'll provide. Now, if you’re done, I have another class.”

  “For now, and don’t leave the island. We may want to talk again,” said Sophie.

  He nodded, smiled, and turned back to the gathering class.

  “I’ll get the list from Rachel, you get the ride. We still have another club to visit,” said Josh.

  Flores stopped and moved back to them. “That one closed last week and most of the members transferred here. But you can check with Rachel on that too. I had part ownership, and we decided to put all of our resources here.”

  “Kind of convenient,” said Sophie.

  “Actually, it wasn’t. It was quite inconvenient. Closing a business isn’t good for anyone.”

  “Thanks again,” answered Sophie.

  Watching him walk away, she wondered if she’d asked all the right questions. She saw Manny’s face and wondered what he’d do, then it hit her.

  “Dr. Flores? I have one more question.”

  She met him halfway. “Is there someone, a member that recently had a tragedy in their lives? Lost a job, divorce, death of a loved one?”

  “Not many divorces. Wait. One of our members lost his mother in a tragic accident in the rainforest four months ago.”

  “Did his behavior change? Like from outgoing to Mr. Lonely?”

  “He was always pretty much to himself, but come to think of it, he got into a shouting match with one of our members over the price of an ancient Japanese Katana. That was about three weeks ago, and he’s not been in since.”

  Josh came up beside her, wielding several pages of printed paper.

  “He’s close enough. What’s his name?”

  “He can’t be your man. He’s world renowned for his environmental research and an absolute pillar in the academic community.”

  Josh’s phone rang. He looked at the display, rolled his eyes, and handed the papers to Sophie as he moved away. She didn’t like the look on his face.

  She turned back to Flores. “The name?”

  Exhaling, he tapped the paper in her hand with a long finger. “He’s the first one on the list, Samuel Crouse. His ex-wife is a detective, I believe.”

  Chapter-49

  He tossed the smoldering cigarette onto the warm sidewalk and flipped the next page of the paper as he leaned against the squat palm tree, all the while never taking his eyes from the security entrance of the Federal Building.

  He’d watched the Asian bitch and her pretty boy boss leave, but that wasn’t why he was here, was it?

  Watching the Irish tart leave with the stupid-looking LA boy had got to him a little and he wondered if it would have been the right time to start this journey, but decided against it. The grand prize hadn’t made an appearance, and that’s why he’d come to San Juan—to see firsthand the object of his attention, then destroy him, in every way possible.

  Karma, Agent. Karma.

  The door swung out, and two men stepped through it. The first was the overweight CSI; the second, well, the second was the mother lode.

  He watched as Manny Williams clapped Alex Downs on the back and then climbed into the white SUV.

  “So good to see you, Agent. So good to see you,” he whispered, unable to wipe the smile from his face, and caring to even less.

  Chapter-50

  “This sure beats the hell out of Michigan in January, even if we are chasing after some deranged prick who may have a big project on his agenda,” said Alex.

  Manny watched as Alex
held his face out of the window, reminiscent of his big, black Lab, Sampson, on a summer day. Funny. He hadn’t thought that much about it, but living in this climate could most certainly taint the place he called home. Lansing was a good area to live, but warm wasn’t on its resume.

  “Good point. But there’s the whole hurricane season.”

  “Yep. There is, but life’s full of tradeoffs. Freeze ass nine months or stay warm and meet an oversized rainstorm once in a while,”

  Just then, a police cruiser, lights flashing, honked. As Manny pulled over, the cruiser zoomed past as fast as a vehicle could zoom on the winding road. He frowned.

  What the hell was that?

  Before he could speak, two more came around the bend, sirens blaring, blasting by on his left.

  “Shit,” whispered Manny.

  “Shit what? Oh, man.”

  The sweet sound of Celtic Woman’s rendition of one of his favorite Irish ballads told him his phone was open for business. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw that Detective Crouse was calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Agent. We’ve got—” Then she was gone. The bars on his phone explained why. Damned dropped calls. Even though the rainforest was remote, he’d noticed several towers on the way in.

  “That was Detective Crouse, and I lost the call.”

  A second later, Nat King Cole was singing one of his all-time greats as Alex’s phone came alive.

  “You’re the one taking those CDs out of Gavin’s office, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, he was one of the best ever, and I always put them back. And you should talk. Celtic music isn’t exactly mainstream.”

  “Yeah, but they’re hot and talented; and Chloe loves them too. Better answer that.”

  “It’s Crouse,” said Alex, fingering the cell.

  “Downs here.” Alex frowned. “What? You’re breaking up. . .”

  Alex listened for a few more seconds and swore. The resignation scribbled on his face said that he was hearing her loud and clear.

  “We’ll be there in a few minutes, hustle ass and bring at least one more of your CSU teams. I’ll see if we can get another from the office. Okay. I’ll tell him,” said Alex

  The CSI dropped his phone in his lap, shaking his head. The small beads of sweat on his forehead and lip sprayed in both directions.

  “How many, this time?”

  “Four. They were members of some tourist committee for San Juan.”

  “How bad?” asked Manny, running his hand through his hair.

  “Let’s just say you were right; he’s gone on to a new creepy high. He decapitated all four of them, then lined up the bodies and switched heads with them.”

  This shit was getting old. “I suppose it’s worse than I can imagine?”

  “I’d say that’s right.”

  “Where?”

  “Off that La Mina path thing that leads to some waterfalls.”

  “Do Josh and the others know?”

  He nodded. “Josh told her to call us since we were already here, and they’ll be showing up as soon as possible.”

  Manny hit the lights and gas pedal. For the second time on this case, his mind was grasping at the killer’s intent. The actions in the morgue were gruesome, yet there was symmetry to the display, and he expected nothing less at this one. He was also taken aback by the closeness of the attacks. He knew this killer was accelerating his agenda, but even Argyle didn’t do it this quickly.

  The uneasy feeling that this killer was up to something big gnawed at Manny’s gut. But what? And that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? They’d better find out, or things would never be the same in Puerto Rico, of that he was sure.

  They pulled around the sharp curb and Manny hit the brakes. The road was blocked by two cruisers and a small orange barricade between them that said POLICE.

  Steering to the side of the uneven, dirt parking area, they got out. Alex’s forensic kit in hand, they showed their credentials and moved down the steps. They finally reached the juncture in the trail leading to the small, faded hut already taped off with the obligatory yellow, crime-scene plastic.

  As he got closer, he noticed that the four blues, one posted on each side of the tape, were facing away from the carnage inside.

  Fewer nightmares that way.

  One of them crossed himself and seemed to be praying. A moment later, Manny knew why. He heard Alex gasp beside him. Manny bit his lip and bent his head to El Yunque’s lush canopy. He closed his eyes reaching for that famous, or maybe infamous, cop mode that caused everything emotional to leave and be replaced with a Just the Facts mindset. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

  The rainforest was eerily quiet, except for the eternal rush of water to La Mina falls. The sound seemed out of place and the dichotomy was too ironic not to notice. Death and beauty had always existed side by side, and even tolerated one another. Between them, they represented almost every facet of life, but this was an extreme capturing of both ends of the spectrum. The place where he and Alex stood and the horrifying scene in front of them said so.

  Releasing a breath, Alex snapped on his gloves, handed Manny a pair, and ducked under the tape. Manny waited another moment, took several mental notes, and then followed his friend into hell.

  Chapter-51

  Sophie and Josh left Flores’s fencing club, stepped into the heat of San Juan’s late morning, then quickly sought shelter in the SUV’s air conditioned interior.

  Sophie swung out into the traffic. “What’s first?”

  “Let’s drop this list off to the office and get our butts up to the rainforest,” said Josh.

  “You’re the boss. Ah, how bad is it?”

  The trepidation in Sophie’s voice echoed his own.

  “Bad. I’ve called Chloe, and they’re going to meet us at the Federal Building.”

  “I know it’s kind of low on the totem pole, but did they find out anything on that damned mongoose?”

  “They hit two of the three labs. One was closed, and the others had a few employees off because it was Saturday so that might have to wait. But I want to find a link between that drug-pushing creep and that little critter gift in your room, so we’ll get some of the other agents involved.”

  It’d been some time since Josh’s mind had operated like this. Too many pans in the fire and not nearly enough cooks, as usual. But then again, these situations came with the territory—always had. He did have a few advantages that most of the other unit leaders didn’t. He glanced at Sophie and smiled.

  “What? You looking at my boobs?”

  “Tempting as that is, not this time. I was just thinking how lucky this BAU is to have who we have. Not every specialty unit at the Bureau can say that. In fact, none of them can.”

  “Manny?”

  “Yeah. I know I keep saying this, but I’ve not seen a profiler like him, even with all of the distractions over the last two years. Not to mention, he knows how to get to the heart of a problem. His talk with me was vintage.”

  “Oh, tell me about those talks.”

  “But he’s not the only one. This team is a true team, and that’s hard to find.”

  “That whole ‘work together’ thing is still a little weird to me. Never been part of a real team until I joined up with Manny. All of that loyalty and patience crap, he’s strange that way. I tolerate it just to humor the boy.”

  This time he laughed out loud. “That’s so good of you.”

  Sophie turned onto the exit leading to the Federal Building as he squeezed the list Flores had given them. He felt the answer was here, or part of it, then he shook his head. That “feeling” world belonged to Manny, but every now and then…

  “Good job with the questioning in there. What made you ask the last one?”

  “When Manny and I would talk about profiles, it seemed like all of the real psychos flew under the radar. There are some exceptions, like Gacy. Manny, and my Mom, always said to look out for the quiet ones. They’re both r
ight, so it seemed a question that needed a little love.”

  “What do you think about him? Samuel Crouse, I mean,” he asked, watching her face.

  “I think it’s damn weird that he’s Crouse’s ex for one thing. We need to get the lowdown from her. Being married to her might mean he’s got some knowledge about how cops do what they do.”

  “True.”

  “He also fits, at least in part, some of the profile Manny put together, so he’s a good place to start. He might not be any more of a suspect than any of the other assholes on that list, but the ‘keep to yourself’ bit and arguing about the price of a sword, puts him at the top, in my book.”

  “You're right.”

  “I am? I mean, I am,” she said, grinning.

  Gliding the SUV to the security gate, Sophie drove to the front of the building. Josh got out and handed the stack of papers to the agent he’d called to meet him.

  “I want background checks on everyone on this list, starting with Samuel Crouse and the owner of the fencing clubs, Flores. I want to know everything you can find out about them. And I want a list of sword dealers from every damned corner of the globe, including what any of those people sold and to whom over the last three years.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He started to walk away, but turned back to the agent. “I need one more thing.”

  Josh told him what he needed.

  The agent looked puzzled and shrugged. “Okay. That’s weird, but okay.”

  “It is, but something tells me Special Agent Williams will want that information.”

  “What would Manny want?” asked Sophie.

  “If any of them owned an animal research lab.”

  “Good one. He would want to know.”

  A moment later, Chloe and Dean emerged from the building.

  “How’d it go at the fencing clubs?” asked Chloe.

  “Not bad. We’ll fill you in on the way to El Yunque.”

  “Yeah, can’t wait to see that mess,” she shivered.

  Dean and Chloe climbed into the backseat and Josh noticed, with some amusement, that Dean had gotten into the passenger side. It lent a better look in Sophie’s direction. The man was gone, for sure.