by Mark Stone
He handed me a plastic bag he had filled with ice from the back room.
I shook my head.
“No thanks. I’ve been through worse,” I said, sitting on the back step. The afternoon had transformed into an almost cool evening. Well, cool by Florida standards anyway, and that meant one thing. Thunderstorms were on the way. I could have stayed inside the bar. I hadn’t been officially tossed out of the place by the owner. Though, to be honest, he was giving me the stink eye as Anchor helped me out. Still, I figured it was better to get the hell out of there. Whatever sway Anchor had on the Scorpions probably wouldn’t last after he left and, with Jack running off to parts unknown, I didn’t need to take any chances of finding myself on the wrong end of that group again.
“Oh,” Anchor said, shaking his head at me and dropping the ice bag at my feet. “You’re one of those, aren't you?”
“One of what?” I asked, looking down at the ice bag laying at my feet.
“One of those people in the world who gets off on pain,” he said, smiling at me.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“It’s alright,” he said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. My partner’s one of them too.” He shrugged as he sat down next to me. “That’s probably why the two of you butted heads the way you did back in the interrogation room. There’s no pain if everybody gets along, and what good is that? Am I right?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say, most of the time, the answer to that question is no,” I said, finally giving up the ghost and picking up the ice bag. I placed it on my head, the soothing cool easing the pounding that had formed in the last few minutes.
“See,” Anchor said, grinning that stupid grin again. “Isn’t that better than just being stubborn?”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” I groaned. “My girlfriend is a doctor. She’d give me hell if she knew I took a hit to the head and didn’t at least put some ice on it.”
He shook his head chuckling. “You and Cross are more alike than you think. I can’t get either one of you to admit when you’re wrong.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re asking at the wrong times,” I said, closing my eyes and trying to quell my headache. “And your partner and I are nothing alike.”
“The hell you’re not,” Anchor answered. “I know a stick in the mud goodie goodie when I see one. You both think you’re right, and you’re both trying to do your job. Difference is, she actually has jurisdiction here. Must suck for you.”
“And what about you?” I asked, opening my eyes and looking over to Anchor. “Which one of us do you think is right?”
“Don’t know,” he admitted. “But I will tell you one thing. I’ve seen that woman crack cases that would have left Sherlock Holmes a mess on the floor, much less Magnum PI. She always gets to the bottom of things. Eventually, she always gets her man.”
“What if we don’t have time for eventually?” I asked. “A girl is missing. Every minute that passes is another minute where the chances of finding her go down.”
“Yeah dude, I’ve seen 48 Hours too,” Anchor said. “I know the drill, and I’m sure you’ve got Tanya’s best interests at heart. Though honestly, I’m at a loss as to how getting into bar fights with half assed biker gangs will do anything to help find her.”
“It’s a long story,” I admitted, dropping the ice again and shaking my head.
“I’ll bet it is,” he answered. “And I bet at least part of it involves another person, because there’s no way a lame duck like you got yourself into this much trouble alone.”
I tilted my head at the man. “I’m not a lame duck,” I answered. “I’m a pretty awesome duck. In fact, I’m like a dangerous sexy sea lion or something.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Donald,” Anchor said.
“Dillon,” I fumed. “Dillon Storm.”
“Right. Very dangerous,” he said. “Would you like me to get you another ice pack? Maybe a Hello Kitty bandage for your forehead or something?”
“You’re a dick,” I said, looking forward.
“See,” he said, smiling. “Sounding more and more like Cross all the time.”
“Tell me about the Scorpions,” I said, switching subjects. “How’d you shut ‘em down like that?”
“They’re fans,” he said flatly. “Plus, that guy in the bandana, I did an appearance at his niece’s birthday party last month. They’d have played fetch if I’d have asked them to.”
“You perform at children’s birthday parties, and you’re calling me lame?” I asked, eyeing the man.
“I mean, there was one mock treasure hunt and a tiny little magic show. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a performance,” he muttered.
“Are you going to tell your partner I’m still here?” I asked, glaring at the man.
“Yeah,” he answered honestly. “Though, she’s a pretty good detective. She’d have probably found out anyway.”
‘I’m going to find that girl,” I said, shaking my head.
“Not if we find her first,” he answered lightly.
“I think I’d be okay with that,” I admitted.
“So would I,” he said, standing. And looking down at me. “That’s why I’m not as keen on the whole ‘get your ass out of town’ thing Cross hit you with.” He took a deep breath. “The way I see it, the more people trying to find Tanya, the better. If we are wrong, and Mikey doesn’t have anything to do with this, then at least you’ve been looking in other directions.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of looking at things,” I answered.
“I’m a treasure hunter before anything else, Dillon,” he said, smiling again. “The ocean’s a big place. Truth is, you can’t ever have too many people in it at one time.”
“Your partner probably won’t feel the same way,” I said.
“Probably not,” he admitted. “Then again, would you?”
I grinned before I realized what I was doing.
“You knew Mikey?” I asked, my grin falling.
“Do you ever really know anybody?” he asked. “The truth is, I thought they had a good relationship. They were engaged and then, just like that, it was over. Tanya never said why, except that it was for the best. She said she didn’t want to hold anyone back from what they were supposed to be doing.”
“And what’s that?” I asked. “What was Mikey supposed to be doing?”
“Only two people know the answer to that,” Anchor said. “One of them is in jail, and you just swore you were going to find the other. So, let me know what she says, will you?”
"I just don't get the feeling the guy would have done something horrible to her, not when he left me," I said.
"And, if when he left you, it was sometime after say, 1:45 AM , then I'd be inclined to believe you. Otherwise, he's what we're looking at."
I wish I could have given him that assuredness, but the truth was, I had no idea when I drove Mikey back, except to say it was between 11:30 and midnight.
“You said you had questions for me,” I reminded him, as it looked like he was about to leave.
“Right,” he answered. “Just one.”
“What is it?” I asked, curious.
“I’ve got a lot of residual money coming in all the time. You know, from the show’s reruns. I was wondering if your brother might be able to give me some smart stock advice,” he said.
I balked. “Just- just leave, Anchor.”
“More and more like Cross all the time,” he muttered. Then he walked away.
I stood once he was out of my line of sight and started walking back toward the car I rented once Boomer took his back to Naples.
When I got there though, I found Jack Lacey leaned up against it, grinning like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I said.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I knew it was your car?” he asked, his face falling.
“You just left me there,” I said, ign
oring him.
“I’ve never seen the car, you know?” he said, looking at me. “I didn’t see you pull up in it. It’s quite impressive.”
“You saw the damned rental tag and figured I’d need a way to get around!” I barked.
“Okay. So it’s not as impressive when you say it out loud like that,” he mumbled.
“I could have gotten my ass handed to me,” I said loudly.
“Not you,” he answered. “You’re Dillon Storm. You have balls made of brass.”
“My brass balls were about to be broken,” I answered. “Why the hell would you do that anyway? What were you thinking?” My hands balled into angry fists at my sides. “I brought you over here to find a missing woman, Jack. I brought you over here for business, and you start things by hustling pool money?”
“That was business,” he answered.
“Not any business I want to be involved in,” I said.
“Don’t you get it?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “I had to hustle the money if I wanted to start the fight.”
“You wanted to start that fight?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat, confused. “Why?”
“I needed to cause a diversion. It was the only way I’d be able to sneak away,” he said as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s pretty standard.”
“Why would you want to cause a diversion?” I asked, shaking my head.
“To get this, of course,” he said, smiling and holding up a blank DVD. “You might have taken a few licks, but you- my friend- are looking at security footage from inside that bar last night. You’ll be able to see just how many drinks your drunk ass friend actually had last night and, more importantly than that, you’ll get a reliable time of when the two of you left.”
“My God,” I muttered, realizing what he was holding in his hands. If the timeline matched up, making it impossible for Mikey to get to Tanya’s bungalow by the time Marcus heard her being taken, then it would prove his innocence. This could change everything.
Jack nodded at me, as though he was reading my mind.
“I told you I’d make it worth your while.”
Chapter 13
"How did you get this?" I asked, looking at Jack from across the living room of the Good Storm. Luckily, my grandfather was a fan of old school stuff. He had his record player, his VHS contraption, and (most importantly at present moment) a DVD player as well.
Ironically enough, my grandfather thought the DVD player was a little too high tech for him. Given the fact that he could only find One-Eyed Jacks, A Marlon Brando Western he loved just shy of how much he loved me, in digital, he broke down and bought it.
They littered the Good Storm now, pushed in every corner and stuffed in every drawer. The old man had lost almost everything he'd garnered in an entire life when the house went up in flames. Everything that mattered to him disintegrated in that very moment. Well, everything but me, or so he says.
It seemed only right for me to help him grab up as much stuff as possible. After all, this was his home too. The least I could do was make him feel like it.
Jack grinned at me as he popped the DVD into the player I had just hooked up. "I stole it when you were getting your ass beat. I thought we went over this?"
"Not that," I grunted, shaking my head at him. "And, I held my own during that thing, thank you very much." Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I continued. "I meant that the Thirsty Seagull wasn't supposed to have any security footage. I asked around, flashing my badge and everything."
"And I'm sure you thought that would work like a charm," Jack answered, chuckling sharply in my direction. "Because, you know, no one ever lies to the police."
I felt like a damned fool as I took in the look he was shooting me, like I had been living in Mayberry my entire life and, suddenly, the whole world was in color.
“Of course I didn’t think no one ever lies to the police,” I answered, anger spiking in me. “Half of my days are spent talking to liars and thieves, not to mention you. I just didn’t see any reason some ‘hole in the wall’ bar would lie, not only to me, but the Vero Beach Police Department about something that might help save an innocent woman and free a wrongly accused man.”
“We don’t know if he’s wrongly accused or not, my man,” Jack said, pressing the play button. “Not until we watch the damned thing, and as for the rest, it’s not that hard to figure out. A piece of crap place like that travels in the lowest common denominator. When you have that kind of clientele, stuff is bound to go down. You can’t keep that clientele unless, when it does, they can be provided some kind of insurance of anonymity.”
“Then why have the security footage in the first place?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “If these clients need things to be on the down low, then why is the Thirsty Seagull secretly recording them?”
“This is from yesterday morning,” Jack said, picking up an ancient looking remote control and pressing the fast forward button. “Let’s get to the good stuff.” He looked over at me, registering what I’d just asked. “For insurance,” he answered. “If the stuff that goes down in a place like this ever gets really bad, like dead or dying, or fire in the staircase bad, then they want to have proof that it wasn’t their fault.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen it a hundred times if I’ve seen it once. That’s how I knew the tapes would be somewhere. I just needed to get the Scorpions riled up so everyone would be looking in the same direction while I searched for them.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s-that’s actually pretty impressive.”
“You sound surprised,” Jack answered, his eyes turned back to the television as he scrolled through the tape on high speed. “Did you forget about our little island adventure so soon?”
I, of course, had not. Jack had been a great asset for me while I hunted down Victoria Sands’s killers and, perhaps his unorthodox way of doing things was shielding me from seeing how talented he was. Still, I firmly believed there was a way of getting to the truth without breaking the law, even if I was more than happy to use a stolen tape to hopefully free an innocent man.
“That’s a fair point,” I answered. “Did I ever thank you for that?”
“You thanked me with words,” he said. “But a real man thanks with tequila. Sangria in a pinch.”
I laughed, shaking my head. I hadn’t spent much time with Jack Lacey and, the time I had spent with the man, was always like this. We had a case to crack, a person to find, and a life to put back together if at all possible.
What I knew about him told me he was broken. He’d lost his son and, because of that, he’d lost his wife and future too. At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor and drive along with it.
“Maybe when we get back home,” I said.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he answered “I’ll expect a double after this.”
“Well, let’s see what’s on the tape first,” I muttered.
With my attention now squarely on the tape speeding along on the screen in front of me, I sighed. What if this didn’t prove anything? What if all the footage was what I saw? What if the time I had left was not enough to clear Mikey of any wrongdoing? What if all of this was for nothing and I was back at square one, having wasted precious hours while Tanya was missing?
“Stop!” I said, seeing Mikey enter the bar in high speed. By the time Jack pressed the play button and the disc reacted to it, Mikey was already at the bar, sipping on his first drink.
“Already one beer in,” Jack said. “That bodes well for you, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” I answered, looking at the time stamp on the bottom right hand corner. “Especially considering the fact that it was only six o’clock when he got there. That leaves a good five hours for him to get as plastered as he seemed to be when I found him.”
“Only one way to find out,” Jack said, pressing fast forward again. I watched, in high speed, as Mikey downed drink after drink. He was a machine though, to be fair, he was a huge machine. The guy was basically
a walking tank. So, I could only imagine the amount of liquor it would take to make him tipsy, let alone gone the way he was last night. He did seem to be on his way there though when I yelled for Jack to stop the tape again.
“What?” the former Coast Guard member asked, glaring at me. “He’s still sitting at the bar. Nothing’s happened?”
“Not inside, but look out the window,” I said, pointing to the window in the corner and the strip of road you could see through it.
“Bikes,” he said.
“Lots of bikes,” I confirmed, looking at the array of motorcycles passing on the street. It had to be the Scorpions and, just like clockwork, they came in on the screen, confirming my suspicion.
“What do they have to do with anything?” Jack asked.
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Probably nothing, but they were there last night and there today. I just want to be sure.”
As soon as Mikey caught sight of them, I saw something interesting. The way he reacted was severe. He turned his entire body the other way, averted his eyes and, when they headed past him, he rushed toward the door.
“He’s afraid of them,” I muttered.
“Looks like it,” Jack answered.
“But he was playing with them last night,” I responded. “Why would he—”
The man in the bandana ran up to Mikey, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back like he was a sock puppet. It was almost cartoonish. At his size, Mikey could have easily tossed the biker aside. He didn’t though. He held himself back, but why?
Mikey turned to the man who said something to him. Though, because these tapes didn’t have audio, I couldn’t tell what it was. He then slapped Mikey in the face and forced him toward the pool table.
It stayed like that for hours, until I came in.
“He didn’t have anything else to drink,” I said as I watched myself come in on the screen. I had watched him play pool coherently for hours on this tape and, now that I was there, he was acting like a drunk buffoon. I had been wrong. It was a trick. It was an act.