Everyone on this island knew Lance and his completely secluded, fenced, and alarmed, lavish estate. He was a philanthropist, at times social with his community. But he was mostly an isolated recluse who flew off, at times, seemingly on a whim, to another estate he owned in another part of the country. She knew he was connected and that he was one of the largest marijuana dealers in the area. And she knew he was no one she ever wanted to cross.
“Look, Lance is always the emcee. He likes to be acknowledged at our community functions, by the residents, so that everyone will believe he gives something back to this community he loves so much.”
Diane and Sam roasted her with a hard look. Jesse slid around in his chair and studied her with concern. Maybe he could see the fear she tried to hide.
“Those are his words, not mine. Look, just talking about him makes me ill. I need to sit down.” Her knees were shaking. Jesse pulled out a chair, and Sam supported her arm. Sam squatted and rubbed her hands. She could see the concern on his face.
“Granny and Sally would never allow me anywhere near him, neither would some of the other islanders. They always said darkness seeks out the light to destroy it, and Lance is so powerful. Granny and Sally wouldn’t even take him on. I’ve never seen them back away from someone before. They told me that, sometimes, there are battles we aren’t meant for. I’ve done a lot of stupid things, but I’ve avoided Lance every time he’s sought me out. I never did business with him. I’m not that stupid. There’s something about Lance that reeks of impure strength. Once in bed with him—you’re never out. He’s unpredictable. He’s dangerous.”
“How do you know this much about him if you’re not around him?”
“I listen, Sam.” She pulled her hands away and crossed her arms. “Even though this island is a haven for me and the others who live here, there are families here, people, doing things they shouldn’t—things that aren’t right. You have to know the history of this place. In the fifties, marijuana crops were the main agriculture on this island, maybe they still are. People who live here are secretive to outsiders, and if you choose to live here, there’s this pact, an understanding, you have. If you want peace—you say nothing. I grew up here. People who live here knew my granny. She had history, roots here. So, through Granny, people here trust me. I listen when they talk. When you’re a permanent resident, with history, you hear what’s really going on.
“Lance moved here years ago, wealthy even then. He turned this island upside down while building his lavish estate with cutting-edge solar power, establishing his operation. Everything I’ve told you; I heard third hand, but it’s reliable. And no, I won’t give you the names of who told me. I don’t care what you threaten me with. The information is from honest folks who know what’s going on, and if I tell you their names, and you talk to them, they’ll get hurt. We live here. We want to live in peace. Do you understand?” She was so agitated by the thought of bringing harm to the people here that Sam must have seen it, because he squeezed her arm, in an understanding kind of way, before standing up and leaning against the deep porcelain sink.
She continued: “What I did this year was find spots to grow marijuana around Gardiner, in the seclusion of the isolated state park land. I’d never do anything on this island. I’d never tarnish Granny’s property that way. Mother Mary, if Lance ever found out…” She shook her head and closed her eyes when a chill shot up her spine. “You’re right about one thing—he controls who grows here and how much. But I don’t know the details. I don’t want to know.”
“Tell me about the outdoor gardens you planted.” Diane scribbled notes as Marcie explained.
“Dan taught me how to find isolated spots close to a water source so that I wouldn’t have to haul water. That would be time consuming, difficult, and a definite red flag. In those hidden clearings, with plenty of sun, he showed me ways to hide the garden. He would find an alder tree and use a hatchet to cut a circle around the circumference of the tree. He would spray poison into it, and the alder would die and drop its leaves. That way, the garden would still be sheltered and hidden from the choppers above, but it would get lots of sun. Then I’d till the soil with a shovel, work in some lime, and plant the rooted cuttings.”
“How many plants in a garden?” Diane’s questions were specific and professional.
“I averaged forty plants, some more, some less.”
“We’re going to need to know where these gardens are. Do you think you can show me on a map?”
“I can try, if you give me a map of the area.”
“What did you do with the plants after you harvested? Who’d you deliver to?”
“Well, that’s the thing. The outdoor gardens haven’t been harvested. I’m supposed to be doing that soon, but I have no idea where it’s supposed to be delivered. I’d think it’d go to Dan’s deep Gardiner property, where Sandra lives. I’ve only harvested marijuana plants once, and that was done on Dan and Richard’s property in a big old shed. Dan showed me how to cut the buds, how to harvest the leaves. Those were plants he sold to his friends.”
Diane gave her a look as if she should have known better.
“Well, that was what he told me.”
“Okay, Dan McKenzie owns two large properties in Gardiner, one where you stayed and looked after the marijuana.” Diane held her pen up. “Isn’t that owned by Richard McCafferty, too?”
“Richard bought the property a year ago with Dan, to build homes, not do grow-ops. Richard’s not into that kind of thing. That property’s a, split zoned, commercial property. They applied for a change of zoning on half, and put in a development permit to build twenty-five new homes. That’s all Richard’s doing.”
“Is this the property where the house burned down?” Sam dished up soup, and poured coffee, obviously needing to keep busy while mentally putting the pieces together.
“Yes, Sam, it is.”
“You had a dream about a fire? I pulled the fire marshal’s report. The old house that burned there had residue from high-grade marijuana in the basement.” Diane swallowed as she referred to her notes. “I told you yesterday that both Richard and Dan are under investigation for suspicion of arson.”
“When you dreamed about this fire in New Orleans, you said to me that you knew it was arson, and you were sure you did something wrong,” Sam said. “If that’s the case, tell me the truth, Marcie. Was there a grow-op in the basement?”
Marcie got up and pumped herself a glass of cool water from the hand pump mounted beside the sink. She swallowed the entire glass to steady her nerves. She placed her back to everyone and watched a deer, grazing on overgrown grass and weeds, through the small window over the sink. “When I lost my memory, I dreamed of a fire my first night in New Orleans. That dream brings the events of what happened that night into a different perspective.
“The night of the fire, Dan was in his excavator pushing the house walls down. I guess I started running toward him. I wasn’t thinking. Richard shouted from his loader for me to get back. Then I heard the sirens— as the house collapsed under the flames, just as the fire trucks and the sheriff pulled in. The fire guys shut Dan and Richard down. Richard must have walked straight toward me, because he grabbed me by the arm and told me to leave. This was right before the sheriff and deputies separated us. I remembered the shed was full of marijuana plants; so I slipped away from the deputy, who’d turned his back on me, and hurried behind the RV and another fifth wheel on the property, that was when I saw Elise.
“I knew she was dead. She smiled, and a dimple creased only her right cheek. I kept thinking her smile was crooked, and there was no peace in it. I was so cold. She held her index finger and thumb up, mimicking a gun shooting me. Then she leaned her head back and laughed, a deep, throaty, wicked laugh, while her long blond hair blew in the wind. She walked around the corner into darkness. I panicked. I was worried about getting busted for the marijuana. I damn near had a heart attack when I reached the door and the padlock that was always on it w
as gone. I peeked in, and the shed was completely empty.”
Sam slid his hand over her shoulder, a slight touch. His hand fell away when she faced him.
“I didn’t know who took it, but I felt set up, lied to, ripped off and relieved, all in the same moment. You know?” She walked away and sat, scooting her chair closer to the table, facing Diane. “Sandra showed up a short time later, after the firefighters managed to get the fire under control. She was devastated about the house. She sought Dan out to comfort her. I’ve never understood their relationship. She’s an extremely overweight substance abuser who goes from one beauty treatment to another, and she has this phony part of her that she wears, like a mask, to hide all her pent-up anger and hurt. But her real talent is being the best grower and dealer in the area. Add to that the fact that she’s a professional with a physiotherapy degree, and she works through the state as a care worker for severely handicapped kids. You’re probably asking what any of this has to do with the fire.”
Three sets of blank eyes stared back.
“Sandra had this brilliant idea of turning one of the houses Dan owned into a group home for unwanted handicapped kids. Apparently, the old house that burned down was supposed to be the group home. Somehow, she had obtained a state contract. I couldn’t figure out how they’d planned to do it. You see, that house was so old and rundown. Dan would’ve had to gut and renovate it, and that would have cost a lot of money. I knew enough about Dan to know he wouldn’t have put out that kind of money.”
“What does this have to do with him growing marijuana?” Jesse rested his elbows on the table. He’d been unusually quiet until then.
“Nothing, except this was what Sandra wanted, and he needed to keep her happy because, without her, he didn’t have a marijuana kingdom. So that put Dan in a dilemma. He couldn’t talk Sandra out of it, and he wasn’t going to pour that kind of money into a house the state required to be up to code. So wouldn’t it be so much easier to just burn it down, then let the insurance company rebuild it?”
Sam and Diane both looked at each other.
“Marcie, are you saying Dan and Richard burned down the house for insurance money?” Diane set her pen down and leaned her forearms on the table.
“Not Richard. There’s no way he was in on it. He was furious with Dan about the group home. He wanted no part of Sandra.”
“When Dan was questioned by the sheriff, he accused a group of young guys who’d rented the house from him, of burning it down, the same ones he had evicted only a week before the fire,” Marcie said. “He screamed it was payback and said he kicked them out because he was sure they were growing marijuana in his basement. That was the first I’d heard about it. Diane, you said traces of marijuana were found in the basement. I don’t think you should discount the fact that maybe those young guys were growing for Dan. He’s too sharp. No one would be doing anything around him unless he knew about it.”
“Marcie, you can’t be sure Richard isn’t involved.”
Marcie tapped her chest. “I know it right here. Richard’s not deceptive. He’s hard and difficult at times, but honest in his way. And after the sheriff and firefighters left, I heard Dan and Richard arguing.”
“What did they argue about?” Jesse frowned.
“Richard accused him of being in a hurry to push the walls in, as if he wanted it to burn quickly, and then I heard him yelling, ‘So how’d you do it, wiring, gasoline, what?’ Then he shoved him hard with both hands, called him a greedy bastard, saying he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Dan didn’t fight him or even try. Richard threw his hands up and walked straight over to me. I’ve never seen him so mad. He told me that if I was smart, I’d get away from Dan, that he had no intention of ever being faithful or committing to me. He’d screw anything as long as it had two legs, was female and available. Richard couldn’t see how much his words hurt me, even though, deep down, I knew they were true. At the time, I didn’t want to hear it. He must have realized after he said it, because he hugged me and asked if I knew the kind of monster I was involved with. Then he told me to get on the next ferry and go back to my cottage. Then he left.”
“Where’d he go, Marcie?”
“Well, home, of course, to Maggie and the kids.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went back to Las Seta.”
“You didn’t talk to Dan, ask him where the marijuana went or if he burned the house down like Richard said? You just left? You know what, Marcie? From the little bit I know of you, I somehow doubt you just walked away.” Sam pulled out a chair across from Jesse. When he sat, he unzipped his jacket, and Marcie saw past the mirage of how badly she had hurt him.
“Sam, deep down I knew Richard was right. Dan’s a greedy bastard, but I wouldn’t admit it at the time. It was easier to leave, to ignore all of it. I loved him too much, and if I allowed myself to question his true motives, I would’ve had to be honest with myself, to acknowledge that I was the one who screwed up, that our whole relationship was built on a lie. I wasn’t ready to do that. So, yes, I left. And you know what? Right now, I thank God, my angels, and my spirit guide who put me in your path.” She didn’t realize tears streamed down the side of her face. She gazed over at Diane. “I want Dan in jail. Please tell me what I need to do.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Sam pushed his chair back on the coarse hardwood floor. He roughly cleared his throat, uttering from the screen door, “I need some air.” The old fir steps creaked. His footsteps crunched through the gravel. Then silence.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that, but I needed to say it,” Marcie said.
Diane looked away. All this information sharing was way too personal. Jesse coughed, and the handmade chair squeaked when he stood. He watched her for the first time with, what appeared to be, an appreciative understanding. “I’ll join Sam,” he said.
For a moment, Marcie wondered if Diane would make an excuse and leave, too. She stared wide eyed back at Marcie and closed her notebook, clipping her pen to the front cover.
“Marcie, Sam and I are friends. I hope you mean what you say, that you want to help, because Sam’s not looking too good.”
Well, that did it. She had her full attention now. “Is it because of me?”
Diane scooted her chair back, stretched her legs out, and crossed her ankles. “Honestly, yes and no. When you met Sam, he was on his way home. He left the team to get his head together after working for years investigating these grow ops. You know the Washington State Patrol initiated a federally funded task force four years ago to investigate Lance Silver. That was before the International DEA task force—before Sam arrived.”
Marcie nodded, remembering, all too well, that fiasco. The narcotics division had messed up badly, specifically one cowboy named Lieutenant Styne. “Yes, I remember how your Lieutenant Styne terrorized people on this island for weeks. He stopped every vehicle and treated us all as if we were criminals. He disrespected my granny, called her a useless hippy. He even made a public announcement at our Anglican church one Sunday morning. He, personally, was going to clean up and eradicate the marijuana drug problem on the west coast and the San Juan Islands, starting with Las Seta. Then he raided the residents here with twenty-five members of the Washington State Patrol. They appeared in military helicopters from the naval base. Officers rappelled down lines. I think they really enjoyed that approach and honestly believed they were taking us by surprise.”
“Marcie, there’s a serious marijuana problem on these islands, and I know that the investigation wasn’t handled…” Frowning, Diane hesitated. “Okay, it was handled badly.”
Marcie flattened both hands on the table when she leaned a little too quickly toward Diane. “Badly, you’re kidding, right? Did you know I was out walking when one guy and one girl cop came out of the Thomas’ place, pushing a baby stroller loaded with marijuana, which they had apparently confiscated. They stopped me to ask for directions to the dock. They’d gotten lost and separated fr
om their team. So I pointed them in the right direction. Do you know what happened next?”
Diane’s face turned beet red. She cringed, covering her face with her hands and moaned.
“On the way back over to the mainland in their boat, the officers decided they didn’t need to take all the marijuana back with them—it was way too much. So once again, in their brilliance, they dumped some of it overboard. Who would have known a southeaster would come up and blow the packaged marijuana back to Las Seta? The school kids sure had a heyday picking it all up from along the shoreline.”
Diane peered through open fingers of both hands, which still covered her face.
“So, Diane, did the idiot cop who dumped it over ever confess?”
She cleared her throat. “No.”
“Would you like me to finish the story of Lance and how that cowboy cop taunted him?”
Diane dropped her hands and stiffened her back. “Marcie, you obviously know how ineffective it was handled. But did you know that over three million dollars, in marijuana alone, passed through Lance’s hands last year? He had twenty people growing and cultivating for him, indoors and out.”
Marcie slapped her hands on the table. “Let’s put all the facts from both sides on the table. You want to stop the grow shows? You need to see it from the people’s perspective, too.
Diane crossed her arms.
“Your cowboy knew what Lance was up to, but he refused to wait for a search warrant. He followed Lance home to his other house near Adelma Beach. You know the west coast monstrosity of an oceanfront property where Lance used to keep his office? Cowboy waited until Lance turned out the lights. He broke in, jumped him in bed, put a knee in his back and cuffed him, even roughed him up a bit.”
“Okay, Marcie, you’re well informed. Lance got off, as you know, and Lieutenant Cowboy was shipped off to Nebraska by the Feds. What we do know is that Lance is into more than just marijuana. Three years ago, the DEA tracked a boat, carrying cocaine, from South America all the way up to the west side of Las Seta, where Lance Silver’s estate is. After that, a new international team was assembled with the DEA. A few years ago, Sam joined our team.”
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 87