“That’s a good idea. It would be one less thing we’d have to worry about if we have to stay longer,” Jiff said.
“Could Tom drop him off at my apartment? Suzanne won’t mind. She’s watching Meaux and Isabella for us and it’s only another day or so.”
“Tom, wait up,” he said and started collecting all of Rascals stuff. “I’ve got a passenger for you to ride back with.”
“I’ll take him anywhere you want, but I can’t take him home. If my kids see the dog, they will cry and want to keep him. My wife will kill me. Tell your friend I’ll be at your house by three this afternoon,” Tom said.
“If she can’t be there, we’ll text you my groomer’s name and address and you can leave him there,” I told him.
I made the arrangements and sent Tom the address of the groomer while Jiff helped Tom get all of Rascal’s worldly possessions down to the car. The last text I sent was to my groomer asking him to send me a text and let me know the second Tom dropped off Rascal.
I started looking at the files before they came back. There were notations to look at different files and one was referencing a file or transaction that I could not find on any of the four flash drives. There were no files from this week on any of the drives we had copied and given to Mike.
I ran to find my purse and pulled out the sleeve. There were no more files in the sleeve. I went to check Rascal’s collar more closely, and there was something tightly sewn in behind the clasp. It was easy to miss if I hadn’t taken a second, closer look. When I ripped open the seam another, smaller thumb drive with a plastic removable cover was stitched inside. It was smaller than the other four drives.
“Look what I found,” I said when Tom and Jiff returned to take Rascal down.
“Whoever did this planned on the four drives in the sleeve being a distraction in case Rascal was found. Whoever was looking would probably figure they had found them all.”
“Can I take my travelling companion now?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, I think we have everything we need. Be careful Tom and don’t stop for anything until you get to NOLA,” Jiff said. “Call me if you need anything, and call or text when you get there and drop Rascal, please.”
After Tom left, I was antsy to see what was on this drive. I was going to examine it from the beginning to the end before Jiff wanted me to call Mike and hand it over.
“I’m gonna let it rip, potato chip,” I said popping in the drive.
And rip it did. The earlier files we found on the previous drives had data on them that was years old and out of date. This one was current, very current with no past dates or any dates entered as if entries needed to be completed. It showed that there was a name on the list of westabig, 500K/ and ending with PCBM999 on that row. There was no DATE in that column.
I imagined Officer B. Frederick was on call by now since she and her partner came out Saturday morning early when we found the body. I called the number she had written down on the note she gave me and I expected to get the police station. Instead, Officer Beverly Frederick answered stating her full name.
After I told her who I was, I asked if she remembered me. She did. I told her I found the dog.
“You might get a call from the sister of the vic. She called here asking if we found the dog. I’m sorry, but my young, new partner was on the desk told her about the mugging at the marina in Pensacola over a Schnauzer. She might try to contact you.”
“She showed up at the marina when we brought our friend back to his boat. We didn’t find the dog, he did,” I said.
“A lady called in a report saying two guys tried to mug a man with a dog at that marina. Is that the same man?”
“Yes, the man who found the dog has a sailboat, a catamaran, more of a sailing yacht actually, out there. We went on a sunset cruise with him. He gave Rascal to me and my boyfriend after he learned that I do rescue,” I said. “He had planned to post the dog on Facebook and take him to the shelter if he didn’t find the owner.”
“Well, good. I’m glad the little guy got to you after all,” Officer B. Frederick said.
“We would like to talk to you, Officer Frederick, preferably not at the station. I found something I probably should not have seen, but I did. We turned the ones I found initially over to Mike Perricone yesterday. I found another one, and I think you should come see this. We also met Jess who works at Big Al’s Tiki bar and she told us something we think we’ve made a connection to. Can you come to our condo?” I asked.
“Sure. I can be there is fifteen minutes. Is that Okay?”
“Yes.” I said, and she hung up without saying goodbye. Dante used to do this to me and so does Hanky. It must be a cop thing. Nothing annoys me more than when someone does not end the conversation by saying goodbye, or something similar, and just hangs up. Phone etiquette is a thing of the past.
Chapter Eleven
Officer Frederick showed up on time, in exactly fifteen minutes. After exchanging pleasantries, she got right to the point.
“I don’t have much time. I did call your friend, Detective Zide Hanky in New Orleans. She seems nice, and she had a lot of good things to say about the both of you. Hanky said I could trust you with my life, which is more than I can say for one or two of the rookie officers I work with here,” she said. “She put her Captain on the line who echoed the same thing and said to give you a wide berth. He said we could trust you to do the right thing.”
“Her Captain? Who?” I asked. “Not Captain Deedler?”
“Yes. Deedler, that was his name.”
“Captain Dante Deedler?” I asked again and could feel my face scrunch up.
“Yes, him.”
That had me flummoxed so as I sat there with a look of disbelieve on my face. Jiff jumped in with “We’ve both have worked closely with Captain Deedler and Detective Hanky as consultants to help with a case. Brandy and I share a mutual respect for them and we’re glad to hear they have the same for us.”
“Captain Deedler didn’t mention you,” she said to Jiff. “Detective Hanky did.”
“So, let me show you what we found on that drive,” Jiff continued.
“You looked at this?” Officer Frederick asked.
“Yes. We gave the first ones we found to special agent Mike Perricone. He didn’t seem impressed.”
“He told you he’s a special agent? He was with the Bureau but then they wanted to boot him out so my captain gave him a job as an undercover detective in our unit,” she said. “He’s no special agent, in fact, he’s not that good of a detective either. He thinks if he says he still works for the FBI often enough, it will happen again. He’s delusional.”
Jiff and I looked at each other. “He introduced himself when he came here dressed in a black suit, shirt and tie as Special Agent Mike Perricone,” Jiff said. “He didn’t say he was with the FBI, we more or less assumed it.”
“Of course, you did, because he said he was a special agent and not an undercover lifeguard/detective. The FBI guys called him Baywatch. That’s what most of us now call him,” she said and laughed.
I almost felt sorry for him but didn’t.
Officer Frederick continued, “He was impressed when he got those flash drives and couldn’t wait to see what was on them. That data was old news. There wasn’t anything on those drives pointing to a current deal or payoff coming up,” Frederick said. “There wasn’t even one in the recent past we could connect. That’s the only reason our unit got to look at them because they were worthless according to our Special Agent Magic Mike.” She air quoted special agent. “He will only call us as back up if he thinks he is going to get his butt kicked. He’s a glory hound.”
“You did see the data on them, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, what can you tell from it? I’ll tell you what I think I know, if you tell me what you know,” I said.
“I’m not sure how much I can share with you. I can share this,” she said. She handed me the report on Daniel’s mugging
at the Marina in Pensacola, pier Nine, in slip number 9999. It read where a couple on another boat in slip 901 observed it and was asked to call it in. The victim was going to someone’s home to recover. The report said two men were trying to take a dog named Rascal. This couple in slip 901 said they later learned the dog belonged to the woman killed on the beach that morning.
According to Officer Frederick, the new recruit, now on extended probation, had given out information without asking his superiors and was told he may have endangered others.
I updated Officer Frederick about Ashley Westlake waiting on the pier when we arrived. Ashley told us when we got there, a couple directed her to Daniel’s boat at the end of the pier. They told her we would be back this morning, pointed to his boat Daniel was on, so she waited near it. The woman introduced herself to us as Ashley Westlake, provided a Power of Attorney giving her the right to act on behalf of her sister, Abigale Westlake. She didn’t want the dog back due to her inability to financially care for the dog.
“Really? What did she want from you?”
“All she asked was if we were sure his name was Rascal. I told her it was on his collar, and she said, ‘Oh, good, he was still wearing his collar.’ She seemed relieved he still had it.”
“She never mentioned the drives Brandy found sewn inside the collar. She knew so much about her sister, Abby’s business. In one day she managed to get a power of attorney to act on her sister’s behalf in case she died, and knew a lot about Rascal when he wasn’t even her dog,” Jiff said. “Don’t you find that odd?”
“Not if you knew Abby Westlake. We all went to the same high school. Jess, the bartender you met working at Big Al’s Tiki Hut, was in Ashley’s class and I was a year ahead of them. Abby ran with a fast crowd. She was always on the brink of trouble,” Officer Frederick said. “What made you go to the Tiki Bar Big Al owns? Was it curious tourist-type interest or something in particular made you go there?”
“While I do love a good beach front bar, I looked on their Facebook pages and saw one of them in a convertible with a guy wearing a Big Al’s T-shirt,” I said.
“Brandy happened to show Jess that Facebook photo and ask her about it instead of someone else there. I think we lucked out.”
“Yes, you did. We’re afraid they will shut down their operation if they think someone they don’t know is snooping around. We’ve been watching Big Al’s place but just can’t prove anything. He’s got a ton of cameras and a ton of security,” she said.
“We saw it. Two of Big Al’s guys removed, nicely I might add, the two we saw mug our friend on the pier,” I said.
“This whole operation has Big Al’s name all over it, especially with one of the Westlake girls.”
“I thought Ashley was the good one. Do you think she was the one murdered by mistake?” I asked.
“That has had me wondering the same thing. My guess is Abby was in trouble, as usual, and came home for help from her sister. Ashley was always self-sufficient. She owned her own home out here on the island, supported herself with her own business, and occasionally, bailed Abby out of a mess,” Officer Frederick said as background on the two women.
“Jess did tell us Ashley was the more reliable one,” I said.
“Abby married some mob type right out of the fashion school they both attended in New York. According to Abby, if you listened to her side of the big business venture she had with her sister, she designed in New York and Ashley designed in Florida. Their business was Westlake Fashion. Abby said the New York side was where all the designs were sold. Ashley once told me, the only designs of hers in New York were the ones she made for Abby to wear. She did all her own marketing and sales in Florida. She had a good clientele and worked hard at it.”
“The woman claiming to be Ashley said that Abby was here because her husband divorced her and she got nothing in a settlement. The woman said Abby came here with only herself, her clothes and her dog,” I said.
“Jess suggested we talk to you. Before she found this,” Jiff said as he held up the most recent flash drive, “she told us the two thugs were there and asked where Destin Harbor Marina, slip 108 was. She told them they were sitting in it. Brandy hadn’t even found the fifth flash drive yet.”
“We also make a connection to a number on this drive we believe to be a boat slip at that marina,” I said. I thought leaving Jess out of the discovery of Big Al’s World Famous Fishing Boat and dock box was a good idea if we discovered the info some other way. We had.
“We also can make a connection to a code on this drive, or at least we think we can,” Jiff said. “We think the dates are for business or a job and the numbers have to do with payments. The initials are who to make the payment to, and the place to drop the money.”
“The code we found on this drive matches an entry with a date of this Wednesday. The code is DHM108 which is the number of slip with Big Al’s Fishing Boat in it. The drops could be made in the dock box. That particular one has a large side with a combo lock and a smaller side with a keyed lock,” I said.
“I’m astounded that code is on this drive, AND it belongs to Big Al’s boat or dock box. He has, in the past, kept his hands clean from what I’ve seen,” Officer Frederick said. “Something has changed with this one. His Tiki Bar and his strip clubs are the cash cows. I’m sure the FBI has been watching him if he’s moving money across state lines. They take a keen interest if he hasn’t paid or claimed any of it on his income taxes. I know someone who might tell us, if he’s seen anything, and he sees it all. Brandy, are you up for some undercover work?”
“Well, that depends,” Jiff said. “Doing what?”
Officer Beverly Frederick milked this for all it was worth watching the two of us. I looked anxious but cautious and Jiff was already shaking his head no before he heard what she had in mind.
“Going to Big Al’s…World Famous… All Male Review with Buns So Tight, you Wanna take a Bite?” she said. She could hardly keep from a big smile spreading all over her face.
“Wait, what?” I asked. “A male strip club?”
“No, not a male strip club, an All Male Review,” she said. “They dance.”
“I don’t think so,” Jiff said. “Brandy is too classy a gal to put up with that.”
“I appreciate your compliments and concern,” I said to Jiff, but asked “Officer Frederick, why do we need to go undercover there?”
“Please call me Bev if we’re gonna work together. By undercover, I need two gals to go in there like they’re going for the show. I’ve had a guy working for that club going on two years. Besides, the extra money he makes, he keeps his eyes peeled for what goes on in the back of that bar. Big Al just made him the Manager, so if he didn’t know what was going on before, he will now. Hot Rod will know what’s going on with Big Al’s boat in that marina.”
“Hot Rod?” Jiff asked.
“Won’t they suspect him?” I asked.
“Why is his name Hot Rod?” Jiff asked again.
“Stage name,” Bev said to Jiff. To both of us, “We’ve had intel from our guy inside on drug deals and payoffs. But they seem to get tipped off or change locations at the last minute. This is now a murder investigation, so if there’s a payoff associated with it, he may have heard or things have gotten a little more tense than usual. If what you two say is true, that it could be as soon as tomorrow or the day after, then he might be able to tell us. No one knows you there. You won’t attract any attention.”
“Okay, I’m in. Are you going with me? I’m not going alone, am I?” I said.
“I’ll go with you,” Jiff offered a little too quickly.
“No, you can’t go. They won’t go within a mile of her with you sitting there. Besides, no guys go to the All Male Review, not even gay ones. We need another hot chick,” Bev said. “I’ll call Jess. She’ll do it.” She picked up her phone to start the call and added, “Bring some dollar bills, some fives or tens—the bar will give you ones for change. Also, you will want to bring a
twenty.”
“Well, I know what the ones are for,” I said rolling my eyes so only Jiff could see me, “But what’s the twenty for, Rod’s info?” I asked.
“No, he can’t take money for information. He can only take tips for dancing. He works for the police. There’s one male dancer you will want to tip a twenty to, and it’s not Hot Rod,” she said. “I know of what I speak. This dude has a bod like no one you’ve ever seen before, including your Mr. Hottie here, and he does a military act.”
Jiff had counted out twelve ones from his wallet. He stopped when he heard someone might impress me enough to put a twenty in his G-String or whatever it is they wear.
“Don’t worry about the twenty,” I said to Jiff. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea on so many levels,” Jiff said. He continued to count out his dollar bills saying, “I don’t like this, I just don’t like it.”
“Jess is in,” Bev said when she hung up her phone. She talked right over Jiff. “Y’all should be there tonight by ten p.m. Jess will send Hot Rod a message asking to get you two a good table. If he texts back, YOU GOT IT, we know he has info. If he says CAN’T THE PLACE IS SOLD OUT, we know he doesn’t. She will pick you up here about nine-thirty tonight.”
“I don’t like this. None of this is a good idea. Wait a minute, did Brandy even commit to doing it?” Jiff looked rattled but hopeful I would say I didn’t want to go. “You know you don’t have to?”
“Jess knows Rod,” Officer Bev said. “They both work for Big Al in his bars. She’ll be fine, and I’ll be in a squad car patrolling the area. Besides, who thinks twice about what these guys whisper in a gal’s ear for a tip?”
Jiff’s eyes widened.
“I’ll be okay. We’re just going to a club and wait for Hot Rod to give us any info he has and then we’ll leave,” I said. “Besides, what could go wrong?”
“Could it be this easy?” Officer Bev mused. “I hope you two can figure out that code. It looked like cities with marinas but there’s other codes, we couldn’t make sense of.”
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