“What’s out there now?”
“Just the old fort, nicely preserved. There’s no landing for a boat there, but you can swim ashore or take a dinghy in. The funny thing is that my old boat still had her dinghy aboard, and there was no one on her. We swam ashore and had a picnic in the fort, and there was no one else there.”
“Well, if one took one’s boat out there and abandoned it, how would one get back?” Stone asked.
“One would take another boat or a seaplane; those are the only choices. But why would anyone leave a very nice boat out there, where it might be broken into and plundered?”
“Good question,” Stone asked. “And where would one get hold of a seaplane?”
“There are a couple for charter at the airport.”
“Any idea how long the boat has been there?”
“I don’t know, but I saw her three days ago, taking on fuel in Key West Bight.”
“Any sign that the boat had been broken into?”
“Not that I could tell. I blew my horn a couple of times and tried to raise them on the radio, but no response.”
“Thanks for letting me know, Chuck.”
“You and Dino want some tennis?”
“I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to be in town, but if we stay on, I’ll call you.”
“Take care, then.”
Stone hung up. “Did you hear any of that?” he asked Dino.
“Enough to wonder if those two kids are dead on that boat,” Dino replied.
“Let’s find out,” Stone said. He called Tommy Sculley and told him Chuck’s story.
“I’ll call the airport and pick you up in fifteen minutes,” Tommy said.
THE HIRED SEAPLANE was an amphibian—it could land at the airport or on the water—and they were in the air within the hour. They flew west over the string of tiny islands, seeing only an occasional yacht anchored in the lee of one, its occupants picnicking or swimming. Stone, sitting in the copilot’s seat, spotted the outline of the fort in the distance, and as they grew closer, he could see a solitary boat anchored off the fort.
The pilot circled the little motor yacht. “You want me to land?” he asked.
“Yeah, and taxi as close as you can to the boat,” Tommy said. “Do you have a dinghy?”
“No, just a life raft.”
“I’ll have to swim, I guess,” Tommy said, unbuttoning his shirt. Stone started getting out of his clothes, too. There wasn’t much wind, and the pilot maneuvered to within a few yards of the boat, which seemed deserted. Tommy and Stone jumped, naked, into the water and swam for the boat. Stone was there first and hauled himself aboard, then gave Tommy a hand.
The two stood, dripping wet, in the cockpit, looking through the locked doors to the cabin below.
“Tell you what,” Tommy said, “I’m worried that those kids are dead aboard, so I’m going to break in.”
“I agree,” Stone said.
Tommy found a boat hook and used it to pry the padlock hasp off the mahogany door. “They can send me a bill, if they’re alive,”
Tommy said, sniffing the air inside. “Nobody smells dead.” He started below, and Stone followed him.
Everything seemed to be in perfect order below, though it was hot. Tommy began opening the galley cabinets. “Let’s search the place, as long as we’re here.”
Stone pitched in, and the two of them searched the cabin thoroughly, taking care to leave it as neat as they found it. “Let’s take a look in the cockpit lockers,” Stone said, and they went back on deck.
Stone pointed at the stern locker, which was fastened with a combination padlock. “Odd,” he said. “The cabin door had an ordinary padlock, but this one has a combination.”
“Why is that odd?” Tommy asked.
“Maybe it’s so that someone who knew the combination could come aboard, leave something in the stern locker, then relock it and leave.”
“We’re going to need something more substantial than an aluminum boat hook to break into that,” Tommy said.
“There’s a tool kit below,” Stone said. He went down and came back with a large screwdriver. It took a couple of minutes to break into the locker. Stone opened the locker and stood back. It was packed with plastic bags, taped shut.
They were about to open one when there was a sudden blast from a boat’s horn. They looked up to find a small Coast Guard cutter standing a few yards off the port side.
“Ahoy, there,” a woman’s voice said on a loud hailer. “We’re boarding you.”
Stone looked at Tommy. “We’re not dressed for the occasion,” he called back.
“There are some towels below,” Tommy said, ducking into the cabin and returning with two skimpy bath towels. The cutter’s crew deployed fenders, and the female captain, who was petite and attractive, stepped aboard, wearing a handgun and a name tag that read “Tabor.” A crewman stood on the boat’s upper deck with an assault rifle at port arms.
“Is this your boat?” Tabor asked them.
“No, Captain Tabor,” Tommy said. “I’m Lieutenant Tommy Sculley, Key West PD.”
“I don’t see a badge,” she said, suppressing a smile.
“Right,” Tommy said. “It’s on our airplane.”
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“We’re looking for the boat’s occupants,” Tommy said. “We got a report that the boat had been abandoned here, so we flew out for a look.”
She nodded toward the broken lock on the cabin door. “I suppose you have a search warrant?”
“No, we were concerned for the safety of the crew,” Tommy said, “so we had a look around.” He opened the stern locker. “All we found was this.”
Tabor looked into the locker and whistled. “Tell you what, lieutenant: why don’t you swim back to your airplane and bring me some I.D. And if you try to take off, that seaman over there with the M16 will shoot you down.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy said, dropping his towel.
43
TOMMY SWAM BACK , holding his I.D. wallet out of the water, and handed it to the Coast Guard captain.
She looked at it suspiciously, then turned to Stone. “And who would you be?” she asked.
“My name is Stone Barrington,” he replied. “If you want to see me without the towel, I’ll swim back and get my I.D., too.”
Tabor blushed. “Okay,” she said, “don’t bother.”
“We’d like to leave now,” Stone said.
“We’re going to tow this boat back to our base in Key West and impound it,” she said. “How do I get in touch with you?”
“Call Lieutenant Sculley and Key West PD,” Stone said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He dropped the towel, hopped over the side and swam back to the airplane, followed by Tommy.
“Well,” Tommy said, “that was interesting. I guess she just wanted to see me naked.”
They flew back to Key West. Then, back at the hotel, Stone called Evan Keating’s cell phone number and got his voice mail. “This is Stone Barrington; please call me immediately, very urgent,” he said, then he hung up.
“Looks like he’s going to need legal representation again,” Dino said.
“Looks like,” Stone agreed.
STONE WAS HAVING a drink before dinner with Annika at Louie’s Backyard when his cell phone buzzed. “Hello?”
“I got your message,” a voice on the phone said.
“To whom am I speaking this time?” Stone asked. “Evan Keating or Charley Boggs?”
“Take your pick,” he replied.
“Where are you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Tell me something: When you were knifed, how did you pay your hospital bill?”
Silence.
“Was Charley Boggs using Evan Keating’s very exclusive credit card?”
“What’s your point?”
“I guess I’ll refer to you as Evan Keating from now on,” Stone said.
“Okay.”
“Once again, where are you?”
“I’m in Torrington, Connecticut.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Look, Stone, I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Evan, it would be wise of you, in a legal sense, to answer my questions.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Where is your boat at this moment?”
“This is getting very strange,” Evan said.
“It’s even stranger that you’re in Connecticut.”
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I know. How did you happen to fi nd out?”
“I spoke to my grandfather, and he told me.”
“When was that?”
“Early this morning.”
“Where were you at the time?”
“On my boat.”
“And where was the boat?”
“West of the Keys.”
“And how did you get back to Key West?”
“I didn’t go to Key West. I went by seaplane from the boat to Miami and got a plane there.”
“Your boat is no longer at Fort Jefferson,” Stone said.
“How do you know where it is?”
“Because I was aboard it this morning when the Coast Guard arrived, impounded it and towed it away.”
“What?”
“Do I have your attention now, Evan?”
“You do.”
“Someone saw your boat out there, unattended. I went out there with the police to find out if you were aboard, dead.”
“Why should I be dead?”
“Well, during the past week or ten days you’ve been knifed and shot. It’s not too great a leap.”
“But why did the Coast Guard impound the boat? It’s not illegal to be anchored out there.”
“Gee, Evan, I’m not sure. Do you think it could be because of the large amount of drugs in the stern locker?”
“There are no drugs on my boat.”
“I pried the lock off the stern locker myself. The Coast Guard chose that moment to arrive, relieving me of the responsibility of calling them.”
“The stern locker wasn’t locked,” Evan said. “The lock I had on it rusted out, and I threw it away. I haven’t yet bought a replacement.”
“Well, somebody did you the favor of buying a replacement, a very substantial combination lock.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Evan, I think you’d better return to Key West right away and answer some questions.”
“I can’t just yet. I’m dealing with my father’s burial. My grandfather isn’t up to it.”
“I should tell you,” Stone said, “that one of the theories being posited in all this is that your grandfather hired someone to kill both you and your father.”
“That’s preposterous!” Evan said. “No one who knows my grandfather would ever think that.”
“Do you have another candidate for who might want both you and your father dead?”
A long silence. “No, I don’t.”
“Then answer me this: Who might have a motive for wanting you both out of the picture?”
“I don’t know.”
“A financial motive, maybe?”
“Do you mean the money from the sale of the family business?”
“I would have thought it was enough to kill for.”
“For some people maybe, but not my grandfather.”
“Well, on your fl ight back to Key West, you’ll have time to consider who else might profit from your demise.”
“Am I suspected of a crime?”
“You own a boat that was carrying drugs.”
“There were no drugs in that locker when Gigi and I left,”
Evan said. “I know, because I got a rubber dinghy out of the locker to move us and our luggage from the boat to the seaplane, and there was nothing else in that locker except fenders and mooring lines.”
“Evan, are you coming back? What do you want me to tell the Coast Guard?”
“I’m coming back, and I’d like to retain you again.”
“All right. When are you coming back?”
“My father’s remains are being cremated tomorrow morning. I’ll get the earliest plane I can after that. I shouldn’t think it would be before tomorrow night, or perhaps the day after. It depends on how my grandfather is bearing up.”
“All right, I’ll call the Coast Guard and tell them that.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you when I get in. Goodbye.” Evan hung up.
“You lead such an interesting life,” Annika said.
44
STONE ARRIVED BACK at the Marquesa near lunchtime the next day to find Dino on the phone. Dino punched the speaker button. “You might want to hear this; it’s Dan Hotchkiss.”
Stone sat down.
“Go, Dan,” Dino said.
“Just a follow-up,” Dan said. “We traced the Pirelli 210 tires to a Mercedes station wagon owned by a Dr. Ralph Peters, of Torrington. Dr. Peters left his car at the airport, and he and his wife went to Maine for a couple of days. When he was taking his baggage out of the car a man offered to help, a white male, fortyish, medium height, medium weight, wearing sunglasses and a yellow ball cap.”
“That’s our guy,” Stone said.
“Dr. Peters said he saw a red Cessna there, too, one that isn’t based there and wasn’t there when he returned this morning. Also, when he got back he realized he was missing his ignition key from his key ring, and he found the key on the driver’s seat. He fi gured it had fallen off when he was getting out of the car.”
“Yeah, sure,” Dino said. “I figure our guy borrowed his car for a while.”
“The tire prints matched the Mercedes,” Dan said. “We got back the ballistics report from our lab, too. The bullet we found in the kitchen wall was a .223. I’ve faxed the report to Tommy Sculley to compare with his slug.”
“So now you know how the killer got to Torrington and out of town,” Stone said. “He’s probably having the airplane painted somewhere in South Florida as we speak.”
“Probably,” Dan agreed. “I don’t think our chances of nailing this guy are very good, which is a shame, because I’d really like to know who hired him.”
“Are you looking at Eli Keating for this?”
“God knows he’s got a motive, but I can’t see him hiring a hit man to kill his son and grandson. He’s in his eighties, and very rich already. I could see how he’d be pissed off at his son for trying to lock him away, but he wouldn’t have anything against the grandson. They were treating each other very warmly when I talked to them.”
“Anything new on the poisoning of Harry Keating?” Stone asked.
“The FBI lab report came back; the poison was thallium, which is found in some insecticides, one of which was present in Warren Keating’s toolshed. That one’s a wash, since Warren is dead, too.”
“Hey, Dan,” Dino said. “Don’t you guys ever catch a killer who’s still alive?”
“Go fuck yourself, Dino,” Dan said pleasantly. “Bye-bye.” He hung up.
“Looka here,” Dino said, nodding toward the pool as he closed his phone. Tommy Sculley, the Coast Guard cutter captain and a man they had not seen before were coming down the walkway toward them.
“Good morning, all,” Dino said.
“Morning,” Tommy replied. “Agent Corelli, this is Stone Barrington, an attorney, and Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the NYPD.
Fellas, this is Agent Rocco Corelli, of the DEA, and of course you know Lieutenant Tabor, of the U.S. Coast Guard.”
“Of course,” Stone said. They pulled up more chairs, and everybody sat down.
“Coffee, anyone?” Stone asked.
Nobody wanted coffee.
“Mr. Barrington, I understand you represent one Charles Boggs, who owns the boat Lieutenant Tabor impounded yesterday?”
“Actually, I represent the boat’s owner, who is not Charles Boggs but one Evan
Keating.”
“Hang on,” Tommy said.
Stone held up a hand. “Their respective identities are as we fi rst thought them to be,” Stone said. “I’ll explain later, or at least, I think I will.”
“All right, then,” Corelli said, “you represent this Evan Keating?”
“I do,” Stone replied.
“And where might I find Mr. Keating at this moment?”
“At this moment, he is, I believe, en route back from Connecticut, where he has been attending to his father’s death for the past two days. The father is one Warren Keating, who was murdered a couple of days ago. Evan informed me that he will be back in Key West tonight or tomorrow sometime. He is anxious to speak with you about the drugs we found on his boat.”
“There has been progress in the Warren Keating investigation,”
Dino said. “It appears that Mr. Keating was murdered by the same man who tried to murder his son, Evan, in Key West. The descriptions match, and when you get back to your office, Tommy, you should have the ballistics report for comparison with your bullet.”
“Good,” Tommy said. “I’ve sort of brought Tabor and Corelli up to date on all that.”
“Agent Corelli,” Stone said, “Evan Keating maintains that when he and his girlfriend left his boat, after hearing of the death of his father, the stern locker contained nothing but a rubber dinghy, which he took with him, and his mooring lines and fenders, and that it was not secured with a lock. He will tell you this himself after his arrival in Key West.”
“And he has no idea why the locker was full of twenty kilos of pure cocaine, with a street value of millions?”
“None whatever. I should also tell you that Evan Keating is personally wealthy, and that he is anticipating a fi fty percent share of the proceeds of the sale of his family’s business, which will make him some hundreds of millions of dollars wealthier. I can attest to this, because I have reviewed the contract for the business sale. Thus, he has no motive to make money from the sale of drugs.”
Loitering with Intent sb-16 Page 16