* * * *
A teenage boy, his father, and uncle picked up Thomas’s unconscious body and carried it to their home. In the back yard was a small two-room shed painted blue and green. They moved Thomas into the back area. He was shoved into a straight-backed metal chair in the windowless room, with a single bulb hanging over his head. They tied his hands together and bound his ankles to the chair legs with rope. Then one of them placed a handkerchief over his eyes as a blindfold and stuffed a towel in his mouth and duct taped it in place as a gag.
The captured man was breathing but unconscious. Significant bruising and swelling blossomed along the right side of his head.
His captors unloaded Thomas’s rifle and placed it and the ghillie suit in a locked cabinet in the other room of the shed.
“He’s more valuable alive than dead.” The father explained to the other two who had worn puzzled looks on their faces.
They left the sniper inside the shed, secured the door with two deadbolts, and returned to the house.
The father walked to the front door and stepped outside. He raised the binoculars and noticed two of his friends, Bubba and Wilfred Jones, sitting in their boats talking to their clients. He thought it odd their clients weren’t fishing. “What the hell is a sniper doing on the island? And why the hell was he watching Bubba, Wilfred, and their clients?” He heard his own voice and realized he’d spoken aloud.
He watched awhile longer, but didn’t see anything unusual, except the group continued to talk, not fish.
Picking up his phone, he placed a call to Bubba, hoping the big man had his cell with him and service was available.
CHAPTER NINE
Petersen looked at Dix as they reached the dock. “We didn’t do much actual physical labor, but man, I’m beat. How ’bout you?”
Dix replied, “Me too. I think I used my brain too much today, and it’s only five o’clock. That means I’ll be useless the rest of the evening.”
“Isn’t that the case most of the time?” Petersen chuckled. “You must really be tired. You don’t often give me an opening like that.”
They stepped off the boats.
Dix momentarily watched the rustling palm trees. He sniffed and could smell fresh conch in a fryer. “I could eat a bunch of those.”
“Me too. And I could wash them down with a couple of icy beers,” answered Petersen finally feeling less sick.
Dix raised his eyebrow. “After last night, you’d better stick to soda.”
Petersen shrugged. “As long as it’s got a little rum in it, I could probably manage.”
“We’ve got time. If we work hard and catch a couple breaks, we might make a dent in the case. Should we call our sergeant and fill him in on what’s happened?”
“Are you nuts? I think you’re the one who needs a stiff drink.”
Martin waited at the end of the dock and greeted them as they approached. “Guys, what’s up? You’re back awfully early.”
Dix looked toward the main lodge. He noticed Suzie watching from the shadows. “Martin, the strangest thing happened. I hooked and landed the bonefish of a lifetime about the time Petersen was vomiting all over the ocean. Bubba decided to check on Wilfred and found him diving off a bonefish flat. After that, things got very interesting.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Come on then, let’s eat and drink and you can share your story.”
Petersen held up his hand. “Sounds great, but I think I’ll take a shower first and brush my teeth.”
Dix nodded. “Martin, I’d like to shower before dinner, too. I’ll let Bubba tell you about what’s in the cooler.”
Martin looked curious. “What? Does it have anything to do with Sean and Pres?”
Dix waved. “See you later.” Then he and Petersen turned toward their cottage.
Forty-five minutes later, they were clean and getting dressed. Petersen put on a fish polo shirt and tan cargo shorts with flip-flops. Dix wore a Tommy Bahama floral print shirt, khaki shorts, and tennis shoes. They each grabbed a cold beer and headed to the main lodge.
Bubba and Wilfred met them in the lobby.
Dix looked them over. He noticed Wilfred had changed his shirt and Bubba changed into what looked like a track suit. “You guys look and smell a hell of a lot better than when we left you.”
Bubba grinned. “We used a spare cottage to clean up. Always carry extra clothes in da car for after fishing. Martin usually feeds us.” He patted his large stomach.
They walked into the private dining room where the Hamiltons waited.
Dix was impressed with the dinner selection of fresh lobster, blackened Mahi Mahi, fried conch, fresh bread, buttered pasta, and beer. The meal was delicious. It’s too bad we’re going to ruin this fantastic dinner once we spill the beans to Martin. Dix hoped Bubba or Wilfred had some cigars to enjoy during their long discussions.
Martin looked around the table. “So, what’s going on?”
Bubba and Wilfred looked at each other and said together, “I’m not doing it.”
Petersen looked at Dix and said, “We both know who the better public speaker is. Go ahead, Bill. Tell him what we know so far. Start with the discovery of the speedboat.”
Dix paused as one of the other fishing guests, apparently oblivious, had wandered into the private dining room. Suzie escorted the man back to his cottage.
Bill motioned to Bubba and Wilfred. “Martin, these guys are amazing. They have a lot of connections here.”
Martin nodded. “The island isn’t that big. We all know a lot of people.”
“Yes, but what I’m trying to say is they know more about what happened to your friends than you might expect.”
Martin appeared confused. “What are you getting at? What do Bubba and Wilfred know about Preston and Sean’s murders?”
“Since Wilfred drew the short straw and got Steve,” Dix explained, “He spent the better part of the morning watching his client vomit. After a while, we could tell Steve wasn’t going to wet a line. So Wilfred decided to search for the speedboat.”
Martin looked at Bubba and Wilfred, who both nodded.
Dix swallowed a bite of lobster dripping in butter. “Steve got a little better as they day wore on, and like any good guide, Wilfred put him on some tailing bonefish. Steve actually hooked a fish, but his tippet snapped as the fly line caught on his wrist watch.”
Martin forced a smile. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
Dix continued, “Long story short, Wilfred stumbled upon a sunken vessel. He made a dive down to it and learned it was a speedboat loaded with cocaine.”
Martin looked shocked. “Is that what Bubba has in the cooler?” Dix nodded.
“That’s crazy.” Martin shot a disapproving look at Bubba and Wilfred. “Totally my fault,” Dix replied. “I wanted to look at it, maybe find a link to something or someone, and to keep it as evidence.”
“You should have put it back,” Martin insisted. “Why didn’t you put the narcotics back?”
Dix shook his head. “Even if we’d decided to put it back, Wilfred didn’t have enough air left.”
Bubba leaned forward. “Martin, we took care of it. It’s gone already.”
Martin seemed to relax. “How do you know this involved Sean and Preston?”
Dix looked at Wilfred, who nodded. “I hate to tell you this, Martin, but they were in serious debt, mostly from gambling and drug use. They owed a dangerous man close to one hundred thousand dollars. From time to time, they did small runs. This man relieved some of their debt, but it was supposed to be the last time. If it makes you feel better, they never did it while working for you. They never used your boats or gas, and they took every precaution to ensure there was no possible link to the lodge. The guys considered you a very good friend and didn’t want to make problems for you or your wife.”
Bubba nodded, then looked at Martin. “Yeah, and according to the local news, their bodies were recovered close to where we found the boat today.”
&nb
sp; Wilfred nodded. “I saw damage to the boat’s engines. They looked shot up. The locals say Preston and Sean were shot.”
Martin drank a long swig of beer. Their host was obviously perturbed.
Wilfred leaned forward. “I had a call from Sean the night before they were killed. He told me a small job had turned into a monster, and he was looking for help. Sean asked if Bubba and I could pick up a truck and trailer the next morning and move it.” Wilfred glanced at Bubba for confirmation.
Dix pointed to Bubba and Wilfred. “They’ve told me they’re not drug smugglers. I believe them. ”
Picking up his beer, Martin said, “So what’s next?”
“I have some ideas, but I have to think this through,” Dix answered.
Martin said, “Whatever you need…”
Dix ate more fried conch and took a swig of beer. Then he stood. “Gentlemen, I need to make a phone call. We also need to discuss how and when we let the local officials know about all this. Wilfred, did any more numbers pop up in your head from the speedboat?”
Wilfred appeared thoughtful. “For some reason, forty-five keeps coming up. Try putting a four and a five in the first numbers I gave you. You may want to swap them, too.”
Dix added the numbers to the back of the napkin and retreated to the guest cottage.
CHAPTER TEN
Based on the late hour, Dix realized he couldn’t call the Florida DMV. Thankfully, he had retired Miami-Dade Police Department Sergeant Andrew Snead’s home phone number. Snead had access at all times to such records because he was well-liked. By the time he retired, many people owed him favors.
Dix had been trained by Snead when he was a rookie cop. Over the years, Snead had been promoted and eventually became one of the most respected guys on the force. Wherever he could, Snead brought Dix along, and always found a way to get him good press and plenty of face time with the Miami-Dade Police Department administration.
They’d been involved in some big busts in Miami. Two of them involved serious firefights. In the chaos of the last bust, Dix had allowed a suspect to get behind him. The perpetrator raised his assault rifle to Dix’s back. As he did, Snead squeezed the trigger of his AR-15, and all three rounds tore through the suspect. Dix turned just in time to see everything unfold and dive for cover. From that point on, Dix and Snead had become close.
Dix dialed Snead’s number. It rang twice, and Snead’s southern drawl came across the line. “How they hell are you, Bill?”
Dix told Snead about the amazing lodge they were at and said the fishing was as excellent as the website had reported. He even told Snead that he would have to come along the next time. Snead asked, “Well, I can’t imagine you broke into your vacation just to brag about it. So what in Sam Hill do you really want?”
“Andy, can’t a guy just call a friend to see how he’s doing?”
“Tarnation. Any other local guy would, but I know that’s not why you called. So spill it.”
“You’re right, as usual. I need a favor.”
“Okay, but only if you promise to take me to the lodge you’re braggin’ about sometime.”
“Deal.” Dix quickly recapped for Snead, telling him about the murders aboard Gray Ghost, and the cargo lodged in it on the ocean floor.
“How’s your buddy Steve?”
Dix was annoyed but guessed Snead needed time to process the information. “He’s as obstinate as ever. Now, can I continue?”
“I guess. Remember, you’re on your own dime. By the way, did you clue in the department on this?”
Dix paused. He knows I didn’t. He’s joking, right? “Uh, not yet.”
“Good.”
Dix sighed, and then filled in the remaining details. “So,” Snead said, “Why are you calling me about this?”
“The boat had Florida tags,” Dix replied.
“How is it you always end up under the dangdest dark cloud? You know I’ll help, but are you sure this is what you want to do? Before long, several agencies could be all over this. Not to mention exploring the boat and removing the coke. Hell, you’ve already broken about a dozen laws.”
“It feels like the right thing to do, Andy.”
Snead chuckled. “Let me get some paper and a pen. You need the info for the registration ASAP?”
“The quicker, the better.”
“Message received. Go with the numbers.”
“This is what we have: BEX 571 space space, B6 06. Wilfred said the two spaces may be a four and a five. He also saw a red square decal on the port side of the boat that read, ‘Expires 02-08, Florida.’”
“I can tell you the boat was last registered in Florida in 2006. I’ll give you the rest when I run it out. I’ve got a friend working who might be able to check tonight. I’ll get a hold of him and call you back. Okay?”
Dix was happy with the answer. “Absolutely, I’ll keep the cell phone close by. Thanks a bunch, Andy.”
“What are friends for?” The line went dead.
Surprised to find himself still hungry and thirsty, Dix decided to rejoin his friends in the main lodge. Evening was settling in as he walked along, too absorbed in the Gray Ghost and its cargo to notice the bright moonlight.
Back in the dining room, Dix slid into his seat. “Well, gentlemen, did I miss anything?” He helped himself to another cold beer and another lobster tail.
* * * *
Bubba stepped onto the deck from the kitchen and flipped his cell phone open. It made a chirping sound. His message tone. Bubba looked down at the screen. He didn’t have one message. There were seven, and he’d missed ten calls.
He punched in the numbers and pressed the button to listen. All of messages were from his friend, Roger Fellows, a family friend who lived close to Bubba’s parents on the north end of the island. Each message said Roger needed to speak to him urgently. If it had been one message, Bubba would have called Roger back later, but because there were seven, he figured it must be very important.
He’d started to dial the number when he saw Roger’s beat-up blue station wagon scream up the dirt road to the lodge.
Hoping nothing was wrong with his parents, he grimaced at the vehicle. His mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and had returned from the hospital after receiving chemotherapy treatments. She’d looked quite ill when Bubba last saw her. The doctors said they didn’t know how long she had to live.
As the car got closer, it began to skid. Before it came to a complete stop, Roger was already out. He ran directly toward the main house. The dinner guests had heard the screech of brakes and came out to see what had happened.
Martin chuckled. “Nothing to be concerned about, folks. Just an old friend with poor driving habits.”
Everyone except Dix and Petersen went back inside. Bubba approached Roger. “Man, what is it? You drivin’ like a maniac.”
Roger panted. “Well, mon, answer your damn cell phone and I wouldn’t need to drive like that.” Roger cautiously eyed Dix and Petersen.
Bubba said, “Come on. Out with it, mon.” Bubba saw Roger examining Dix and Petersen. “It’s okay, they’re cool.”
Roger hesitated a moment. “Okay, we need to talk somewhere private.”
“How about the boat shack at the end of the dock?” Bubba pointed to the far south end of the property.
They grabbed a few beers and cigars and strolled to meet the others, trying to look casual.
Dix turned to Petersen. “This is a fine mess you got me into.”
They argued all the way as to who was to blame for their involvement.
Roger opened a beer and sat down. “Bubba, this has nothing to do with your momma or papa.” He motioned to the other chairs. “Get comfortable. This will take a while.”
Roger looked at Dix and Petersen.
Dix held out his hand. “I’m Bill Dix, and this is my partner, Steve Petersen.”
“I’m Roger Fellows. You should know I don’t trust strangers, but since Bubba says you’re cool, I guess you’re oka
y.”
Dix nodded. “Thanks.”
Roger took another gulp from his can. “A few hours ago, my son, Tommy, was looking out at the sea as he was procrastinating about doing his homework. He thought he saw a piece of dry grass, about the size of a rabbit, move up and down. Tommy thought the grass seemed sort of strange. He said it looked like it didn’t belong. He watched it for ten more minutes, but it didn’t move again.”
Roger stood up and started to pace. “Tommy was still curious, so he just kept staring out at sea and at the patch of grass. After a while, he got off his lazy butt and walked out toward where he thought he’d seen movement earlier. He got about a hundred yards away and saw it move again.”
Bubba looked from Dix to Petersen. “His kid knows this whole island. If he said it didn’t belong, then it didn’t.”
Roger nodded. “When it moved again, Tommy came to get me.”
Bubba grew impatient. “Where you going with this?” He knew his friend was long winded.
Roger replied, “Damn, mon, you always want everything right now. I’m getting to it, and I’m sure it has to do with Sean and Preston.”
Everyone froze.
Dix raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?” Roger didn’t answer but continued. “So, like I said, Tommy thought something was up, so he backed off and came to get me. I went to see what he was looking at and watched for about ten, fifteen minutes. I didn’t see a thing and was getting ready to tell Tommy he was crazy when I thought I saw movement through my binoculars. Sure as heck, it looked like a patch of longer grass and brush that was different than the surrounding area. At first I dismissed it, figuring I may be seeing things. But, since I’m into plants and such, and I wasn’t doing much, I figured I’d go check it out anyway.”
Roger took a deep breath and continued. “It took me a long time to get to about fifty yards from the patch. I was hoping to catch a rabbit, so I was real slow and deliberate. The patch began to take shape the closer I got to it. When I was about forty yards away, it was obvious the area didn’t fit in.” Petersen scratched his chin. “Why was that?”
Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) Page 5