“But everything’s good now?”
“Absolutely. I was out of commission for a couple of months. I was going out of my mind with nothing to do.”
“Me, I would’ve been at the beach every day.”
“I went often enough, but, anyway, I had a bit of a time hunting down your number. You’d make a good spy.”
It sounded like music when she laughed. “Not really.”
“It’d be great to get together again. Besides, I still owe you a dinner. You happen to have any plans to come back down?”
“I’d love to, but at the moment I’ve been helping out my parents. My dad had one of his lungs removed.”
“Sorry to hear. How’s he doing?”
“Pretty good now. He had the surgery about four months ago and was doing well but developed a bad infection and had to be hospitalized again. Then he was in rehab for a while, but now he’s starting to bounce back.”
“Must be tough on your mother.”
“It is. My dad did everything, and now Mom is scurrying around trying to cover the bases while working full time.”
“Well, you’re doing the right thing being there for them.”
“I’m really happy to help them. But it’s not like I don’t want to scream at times.” She laughed.
“I’ll bet.”
We chatted about the weather, her job, and then what cases I was working before we starting winding down the call.
“I used all of my time off and more with the surgery and all, but maybe I’ll sneak up and see you for a weekend.”
“That’d be nice.”
“Great. Maybe in a couple weeks, would that work for you?”
“I’d love it, but let’s wait till things settle down with my dad. I hate for you to come up here and I’m tied up with them.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter 45
Luca
Robin didn’t seem surprised to see us, which left me wondering as we took seats in swivel chairs. She wasn’t flirty this time. Was it because Vargas was around, or had she been toying with me?
She said, “Is there something you have to tell me about Phil?”
Vargas said, “We have some questions to ask you about your husband and the work he was doing.”
“His job? What’s that got to do with his murder?”
I said, “Did you know that your husband was involved in a scheme, defrauding his employer?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Phil was stealing?”
Vargas said, “You had no knowledge of it?”
“Of course not! I don’t understand. What was going on?”
I said, “Phil was managing the Sweet Bay project for Simmons. A large payment he personally requested was made and wired to an account unrelated to the contractor.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Why would Simmons wire money to a different party?”
Vargas said, “The money was sent to a Sweet Bay account, but it had nothing to do with a project he was managing. It seems he, and we believe a coconspirator, set up an account under a name very similar, in this case Sweet Bay LLC versus Sweet Bay Resort.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Six hundred large,” I said.
She gasped, “Six hundred million?”
I said, “No, six hundred thousand.”
“Oh, when you said large I thought—”
I countered, “From where I come from, a hundred K is large.”
Vargas said, “Not much compared to three million, is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, just bringing up the insurance money.”
“That has nothing to do with—”
“Ladies, let’s get back to the money, it seems, was stolen by Robin’s husband.”
“Are you sure Phil was involved?”
I said, “I’m afraid there’s no doubt. He ordered the wire. The money didn’t stay at the first bank for longer than an eyeblink. Then it bounced to at least three other institutions before disappearing in the Cayman Islands.”
“Someone could have made it look like he requested the wire.”
I said, “True, but his name was on an account, at the Royal Bank of Scotland in Barbados, I think it was. There aren’t any Philip Gabellis in Barbados. And the account was opened remotely from a branch in Fort Myers. That’s not a coincidence, ma’am, we call it evidence.”
Robin slumped further in her chair but remained silent.
Vargas said, “Do you know about any accounts your husband may have had at a bank or credit union?”
“None that I know of.”
I said, “Is there anyone you can think of that may have been involved with your husband on this?”
“I still can’t believe he did this, no less anyone helping him.”
“We know Phil liked to gamble, and he got himself in a couple of jams, owing the wrong people money.”
“All’s he had to do was come to me, like he did in the past.”
I said, “But didn’t you tell Dom Stewart that you were sick of bailing Phil out of his gambling holes?”
“You think I liked throwing my hard-earned money to a bookie to cover his losses? Of course, I was pissed, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help him.”
I said, “Maybe he had the sense you wouldn’t. Maybe the bookies were putting pressure on him. Maybe he had nowhere to turn to and the pressure made him steal.”
“So, it’s my fault?”
Vargas said, “That’s not what he’s saying.”
I asked, “What do you think is more likely, that he stole the money to pay off a gambling debt, or he stole the money and was going to use it to start a new life somewhere else?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore. This is crazy: he disappears, is found murdered, and now this? You really think it was him?”
I said, “It sure looks that way.”
“Well, I can assure you I had no idea about it and find it hard to believe. There has to be an explanation.”
I said, “We’re going to keep investigating this.”
***
We got back into our car.
“This is some neighborhood, Vargas. You see the white one on the left? That’s my favorite.”
“The houses are nice, but I don’t like it back here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, no sidewalks, and it kinda has an old feel to it.”
“You’d make a good agent, maybe when you retire.”
“No, thanks.”
When we pulled onto Pine Ridge, I said, “I don’t know, Vargas. It’s not adding up. He steals the money, or so we think.”
“How can you say that? His hands are all over this.”
“True, so let’s say he organizes the scheme. Steals the six hundred K to cover a gambling debt or to run away to some Caribbean island.”
“Exactly.”
“So how does he end up at the bottom of Clam Pass?”
“He gets the money, pays off his debt, and he pisses off the mob and they crush him.”
“Nah. Gabelli’s an ATM for them. With numbers like six hundred K they’d get him limos.”
“Okay, he gets the money, and someone unrelated to the bookmakers knows about it and that leads to his murder.”
“I don’t buy the gambling angle. We would’ve heard something if he was into Fingers for six hundred K. And don’t forget, they’d be stalking the missus if the debt was still out there.”
“So why did he steal the money?”
“Does the money mean anything?”
“Of course, it does.”
“If anything, he was planning to disappear. That kinda fits, as you’d think the theft would surface sooner or later. Unless he had some way of keeping it hidden.”
“These things always surface. That’s why a lot of firms force people to take two weeks in a row off.”
“How about someone else made it look like Gabelli stole the money? How come this suddenly surfaced as soon as Gabelli was in the icebox?”
“Hmmn. That’s outside the box, Luca, but I like the reasoning. Makes sense.”
Maybe I wasn’t turning into mush after all.
I said, “No question the dough is interesting, and I’ve chased down a lot of sleazebags for a helluva lot less than six hundred big ones, but maybe the money has nothing to do with this.”
“But you always say there are no coincidences in crime, that it’s called evidence.”
“It’s nice you pay attention, Vargas, but the money is evidence of theft, not murder.”
Chapter 46
Stewart
“Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare.” - Japanese Proverb
I took another hit from my nebulizer.
I don’t know what got into me. This bitch was really screwing with my head. I gotta change it up, ditch the original plan. It just burns me up to no end to find out Mr. Office Man stayed over at her house the whole freaking weekend.
I went by, what, ten, twelve times? Every time I did, I got more worked up. Why’d I keep going? If I’d just put it out of my mind, things wouldn’t have gotten out of control. I mean, who answers the door without a shirt on? It threw me off, and when Robin came to the door with her shirt half unbuttoned, I really lost it.
This was no good. I was wasting time. My life was ticking away, and I was still sitting in an old coach home. Was it time to heat things up with Melissa? That’s what it looked like. But I put a lot of time in this, and there was one more thing I had to try before I moved on.
***
I wasn’t a dog lover at all. They run around outside and then jump all over your furniture. That’s crazy. They can make things dirty, and some people even let them sleep on their bed. No way that’s happening under my roof.
Robin, she just loves dogs, always wanted one, but not Phil. You see, me and Phil, we thought the same about a lot of things. That’s why we were best buds. Dogs was just another example where we lined up like soldiers.
Phil resisted Robin’s attempts to get a dog at least a dozen times that he told me about. She’d especially hit him hard on it when he was on the defensive from straying. Like with kids, Phil didn’t want to be tied down any more then he had to.
I started browsing around the Internet, knowing if it had to be a dog, it’d have to be a small one and, for sure, one that didn’t shed. Maybe it could be trained to do its business inside so it’d stay clean. That’d be up to Robin, but I’d have to influence it. I settled on a Maltese. Robin liked them, and they did seem to be the cutest to me.
The breeder was way out east, off of Pine Ridge, and had three different Maltese litters to choose from. The tea-cup types were the smallest, but I wasn’t going to pay for the upcharge, so I picked out a female white ball of fur that was two weeks old.
It was super delicate and fit in the palm of my hand. By the time I was out of there I had charged over sixteen hundred dollars on two cards, and I still had to buy a crate and other puppy paraphernalia.
I put a plastic sheet and then a towel on the front seat and the puppy went to sleep as I drove. It didn’t make a whimper and looked so peaceful. My spirits rose. This was going to be one of my better ideas. I called Robin and told her I had to see her immediately. She pissed me off with her stalling, but she eventually agreed.
***
Holding the puppy up against my stomach, I rang her bell. Robin came to the door wearing pink flip-flops, a Beatles tee shirt, and shorts, but no smile. I raised the puppy up and she said, “Oh my God, she’s so cute.” She nuzzled the pup and said, “Where’d you get her?”
“I got her from a breeder out east, and she’s all yours.”
“What?”
“I got her for you. I know you always wanted a dog, but Phil, he wouldn’t let you.”
She handed me back the pup. “But I, I, can’t accept it.”
“It’s okay, it’s a gift from me to you.”
“But I don’t want a dog.”
The puppy started whimpering.
“What do you mean? You always said you wanted one.”
“I know, but now’s not the time.”
“It’s the perfect time. It’ll be good for you.”
“I can’t take care of it.”
“You always said you wanted a dog, but Phil prevented you from getting one, and now you have one.”
“I can’t take care of it. Don’t forget, Phil had flexibility during the day. He could pop in and take care of her.”
“You can do it.”
“I don’t want to be tied down worrying about a dog. It’s not fair to me or to her.”
And so, it went. I couldn’t figure her resistance out, and we started arguing. I was sick of trying to do the right thing and having it boomerang. I couldn’t see trying to convince her anymore, so, crying pup in palm, I marched off to my car and drove back to return the dog. As a final insult, the breeder charged me a five hundred dollar ‘processing’ fee to take the puppy back.
Chapter 47
Luca
I slept almost the whole night through. It was the first time I could remember doing so in a long time, and I felt fresh as I sipped my morning coffee. I was reading a forensics journal when my phone rang.
“Detective Luca? It’s Robin Gabelli.”
She was as formal as I’d ever heard her.
“Good morning. What can I do for you?”
“It might be nothing, but it was disturbing. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“What’s bothering you?”
“Well, last night, it was late, after eleven, and Dom came to my house.”
“Stewart?”
“Yes, Dom Stewart.”
“Okay, what happened?”
“Well, I had company, a friend was staying over, and Dom started ranting.”
“A male friend?”
“Yes.”
“Did Stewart assault him?”
“No, I thought for sure he was going to. He started cursing and making threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you. He said that he’d kill Michael just like he did the other guy.”
“Slow down. Michael, that’s your friend who was staying over?”
“Yes, he’s a friend from work.”
“Stewart never laid a hand on this Michael or you?”
“No. He was just screaming. It was scary, and when he said he’d kill him like he did the other guy I went numb. Do you think he meant Phil? They were friends, it can’t be, could it?”
“Sometimes people say things for effect. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“No, no, this was different. He was, like evil personified. I’m telling you, I’ve known him a long time, and he gave me the creeps.”
I wanted to say, you mean that guy you once jumped in the sack with now gives you the creeps? But asked, “What did your friend think of the threat?”
“He thinks Dom is totally unstable and is probably the guy who killed Phil.”
“What makes him so sure?”
“It’s not the first time Dom threatened him.”
“You never reported a previous incident.”
“I didn’t think it was such a big deal at the time. You see, Dom always wanted a relationship with me. I know it’s my fault for that one-time thing. But a few months ago, I was out with Michael at Brio in Waterside and Dom saw us, and to say he wasn’t happy is an understatement.”
“Did he get physical?”
“No, not really. Dom was pissing off at me, and when Michael asked him to leave us alone, he poked his finger in Michael’s chest and said something like he’d wipe the floor with him if he didn’t mind his own business.”
“How’d it end?”
“One of the va
let guys came over and Dom walked away muttering to himself, like a complete nut job.”
“It might be time to get a restraining order.”
“So that he couldn’t come near me?”
“You could try for that, but it’d be easier to at least get one to keep him away from your house.”
“Can’t you bring him in? He said he killed someone, and it could be Phil.”
“We need more than hearsay.”
“It’s not hearsay. Michael heard it too. We both heard it. If you would have seen him last night you wouldn’t be brushing it off.”
“I’m not brushing it off, but it’s not a crime to say things, even if they’re crazy.”
“You don’t believe he did it?”
“It’s not a matter of belief; it’s evidence we need.”
“But he said he killed someone.”
“I understand that, but he could have just been trying to intimidate your friend.”
“So that’s what you think it was, intimidation?”
I had to get back in control here. “Hold on here, Mrs. Gabelli. At this time, there is no legal basis to haul Stewart in. However, you can rest assured that this information will be taken, as is all information, under consideration. Now, I think you should give serious consideration to getting a restraint order. If you decide to pursue one, I’d be happy to contact the prosecutor’s office and provide case details on your behalf.”
Chapter 48
Luca
Financial crimes were something I’d worked on a handful of times in New Jersey. All of those Jersey cases targeted the legions of corrupt officials that infest the so-called Garden State. We’d taken down a number of mayors and councilmen, but, like cockroaches, a new generation of replacements came out of the woodwork.
After the lead detectives in Collier’s Financial Crimes Unit were rear-ended by a landscaping truck, Vargas and I jumped into their case, which was at a critical juncture. There’s an endless amount of big money, and by that, I mean really big money, in Naples. You’d think all that money and the savviness of the people with it would make them immune to being fleeced.
Vanished: A Luca Mystery - Book 2 Page 15