Taffer's jaw tightened as he glared at CJ.
"I'm just a victim here, Agent Taffer. You all are the ones who got him killed."
Taffer pointed back the way they'd come, south toward the police barricades. "Out! Get out of my crime scene. Go do something tourist-like until you can get a flight back to Arizona. If you can't get one by tomorrow morning I'll get a court order and have you escorted."
"I'm a victim and a witness in this explosion," CJ said, "as well as a onetime suspect and witness in Douglas Rothbower's death. I don't think I should be leaving town."
"If I want you for anything I'll call the Tucson field office and have you interviewed via video conference."
CJ looked at Stella. She shrugged. He glanced over at Josh who appeared to be waist-deep in evidence gathering. And then he remembered the glimpses of news he'd spotted while waiting for Stella at the airport. The mysterious explosion in downtown St. Petersburg had the police baffled. There was some speculation that it was a terrorist group, seeing as the FBI and HLS had both shown their presence at the scene, but that was quickly overridden by the local news station reporting that there was rumor of gang retaliation for something or another, and a Federal spokesperson made a point of not denying the rumor. CJ recalled someone at the airport, who was also watching the news, saying to the person he was standing next to, "Gang violence in Tampa? You don't see that very often."
CJ wondered if the FBI started the rumor. No one was talking about anything having to do with the Irish Republican Army.
"Okay," CJ said. "You're the boss." He took Stella's arm. "Did you happen to notice what networks those satellite trucks were from, partner?"
She looked back toward where the trucks waited, just beyond the barricades, and then smiled. "CBS was one of them," she said. "Didn't notice the other."
He pointed. "Oh, look. There's a third one. Wonder if we can find CNN's number?" With that he started walking the two of them up the street.
"Hey!" Special Agent Taffer yelled at them.
CJ looked over his shoulder. "What?"
Taffer pointed toward a dirty gray Dodge Charger with government plates, the one Agent Coulter drove. "Make yourself comfortable over there. Don't talk to anyone and stay out of the way."
CJ looked at the Charger. "And do what? Stand around bored with our hands in our pockets? I'd rather go catch a cab, retrieve my replacement rental and make some phone calls." He swiveled his head to look up the street again. "It was easy to get by those cameras on the way in. Not so sure it's going to be that easy on the way out. Think they'll pay for a scoop? Lord knows this is turning into a rather expensive assignment. Hope my insurance covered the car."
"You didn't get the extra insurance?" Stella said.
"No. I figured my regular insurance would be sufficient."
"Is the regular insurance going to pay for your rental car being blown up?" Stella asked.
"If I explain to them that it was an Irish terrorist group, they should be okay with it, don't you think?"
"You know you can't be spreading that information around," Taffer said. "You'll have rioting in the streets, anti-Irish slogans written on walls, Irish families bullied. What do you want?"
"I want to be able to continue my investigation into Douglas' death as requested by my clients," CJ said. "That's clients, plural, both of whom want the same thing. You can go off and find your arms shipment or whatever the hell it is."
"The two are interlinked; you do know that don't you?"
"Of course. And if I discover something that'll help you, I would be quite happy..."
"Obligated," Taffer said.
"I'll be happy and obligated to inform you. On the flip side, I'd appreciate anything you find out about Douglas' death."
"If I do, it'd just be a courtesy. No obligation does the FBI have. If it was the organization that killed him, you will likely never know who it was. Hit men disappear into the rank and structure?"
"And then it may be simpler than that. Both of my clients want to know why. My Arizona client wants to know a bit more about Douglas' illegal second marriage, his birth name, his adopted name, his mother's name, his father's name and if said father is still alive. There are unanswered questions all over the place. His last will & testament comes into play to benefit who? What about the yet to be born child that Rebecca O'Reilly is carrying. There also appears to be an issue over where he is going to be buried, memorial services, cremation or not. Many fingers in the morbid pie. Much to do, Agent Taffer. Much to do."
Taffer's phone rang. He looked at it, pointed at the Dodge Charger again and said, "Wait there," and then walked away with the phone pressed to his ear.
CJ said to Stella, "Do you have your iPad thingy with you?"
She rolled her eyes. "My iPad thingy is in my purse."
"Good." He lead her over to the Charger. "Pull it out and Google something about a summit in Ireland."
"You know about Google, Clint? You becoming a techie on me?"
"Everybody knows about Google." He put his arm around her. "Not everyone knows how to Google like my girl, though."
"Your girl?"
"My partner."
"Better." Stella laughed and extracted the rectangular device from her purse.
"Is that new?" CJ asked, pointing at her purse.
Stella looked down. "What? My iPad?"
"No. The purse. Never saw it before."
"Very good, Clint. Nice of you to notice. Yes, it is new. Needed something that would hold my iPad, among other things."
"What other things?"
"I'm a woman. I have other things. Want to poke your hand in and find out."
CJ took a step back. "No. Just noticing is all. Bigger than what you usually carry."
"Yes it is. I have more things, like this iPad." With that she turned it on.
CJ leaned against the car, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched Stella's fingers dance across the face of the iPad. He hated having to type on the little smart phone screens, but he had to admit that the screens of these larger devices were intriguing. Maybe he'd have Stella show him how to use an iPad.
"The only thing I find is the 38th G8 summit, which was already held this year at Camp David."
"Is it held once a year?"
"I think so." She poked around for a time and then said, "Yes. It's once a year, in the summer, normally June or July."
"That doesn't sound like it's worth pursuing. What other kind of summit would Douglas have been referring to?"
"Hold on," Stella said, bit on her lip and swiped her finger up and down a couple of times. "The next summit location hasn't been announced yet, but the county of Fermanagh in Northern Ireland is on the list of prospects."
"That's rather interesting. When would that be?"
"June of next year."
"That's still nine months away. I don't see how it'd be relevant."
"Me neither."
"And what would they hope to accomplish with guns and explosives? I could see a demonstration to gain world attention, maybe world favor if it was done peacefully. Violence wouldn't be productive. I think that's been proven over the last half century."
"It's been proven over and over again, throughout the millennia," Stella said, "but it's still going on all over the world. There is always going to be some idiot who's able to talk a whole group of like-minded idiots into believing that killing someone or blowing someone up is going to progress their cause."
"True."
Stella put the iPad away and joined CJ, arms crossed, staring off into the distance.
"You didn't see anything about any other summit?"
"Nothing."
After a period of ensuing silence they noticed Josh and Agent Coulter break away from the activity in front of the coffee shop and rush their way. The two agents climbed into the Dodge Charger against which CJ and Stella were still leaning. CJ pushed off the vehicle and caught the passenger door before his son got it closed.
"Sorry,
Dad," Josh said. "Can't talk right now."
"Where you going? What's happening?"
Josh looked over at Coulter who was pulling on his seatbelt. He shrugged and put the key in the ignition.
"They may have found the truck."
"Then I'm going with you."
"I don't think so."
"I'm the only one you have right now who really saw the truck so therefore can tell you for sure that it's the right one."
"We can't have civilians compromising a crime scene."
"Give me a break, Josh. We're in the business. We know what to do at a crime scene and you know that."
Josh looked over at Coulter again.
"Get in," Coulter said.
CJ and Stella were still buckling in the backseat when they cleared through the police barrier. "Wonder what Taffer will say when he finds out we've gone along on this?" he whispered to Stella.
"He said to stay near this car, didn't he?" she said.
CJ chuckled. "I love the way you think."
Chapter 22
"It was discovered in a parking lot on the northeast corner of Mirror Lake," Agent Coulter said as he turned the Charger east onto 4th Avenue, hardly slowing down. "No more than a mile away."
"That would make sense," Josh said. "After failing to run over Ms. Danohough, he probably called his buddy who met him in that parking lot with the IED. Afterwards, they dropped the truck back there and took off."
"Truck has to be stolen," CJ said. "They wouldn't be stupid enough to use their own."
"That's our assumption, yes. I suspect that the locals will know more about that by the time we get there."
There were two St. Petersburg Police cruisers blocking the truck and tying up a nearly full parking lot when they arrived. Coulter stopped the Charger behind one and they all piled out. While the agent presented his identification to one uniformed officer, CJ, Josh and Stella walked over to the truck. A second officer stepped out in front of them.
"FBI?" he said.
Josh pulled out his ID and the officer nodded and stepped aside.
"Yep. This is the one." CJ pointed to a dent in the driver's door. "That's where I slammed into it." They walked around to the front. "Broken headlight, and there's a chunk of glass missing. Will bet if the area around where Ms. Danohough's door was taken off is scoured closer, the missing glass will be found."
"It's been scoured," Josh said. "Likely already have it in evidence."
They continued around to the passenger side, the door of which was hanging open. The uniformed officer followed along. They all peered in. CJ pointed to a crucifix hanging from the rearview mirror. "Just before he threw the device, I saw that crucifix. Didn't even think about it until now."
"A bit ironic," Stella said.
"No doubt," Josh said. "Owner is not going to be happy once he learns that his truck was used in an attempted murder."
"She," CJ said.
"He or she," Josh corrected.
"I'll put money on she," CJ said. "The cleanliness of the truck and the crucifix tell me that the owner is female."
"He's right," the officer said. "The registration has already been pulled from the glove box. The owner is female."
CJ smiled at Josh.
"You're the guy who was there with Detective DuPont?" the officer said to CJ.
"Yes," CJ said.
"Washburn?"
CJ nodded. "Have you gotten any new word on Detective DuPont?"
"Just that he's recovering nicely at St. Pete General. Probably a day or two before they release him though."
Agent Coulter stepped up next to them. "The owner of the truck is a Pamela Moore. She lives alone in an apartment in Seminole, about ten miles west of here. Two officers are already with her. She claims that she didn't even know that the truck was gone."
"She's probably telling the truth," CJ said. "An apartment complex early on a Saturday morning is a great place and time to steal a vehicle. People are less likely to take notice compared to a weekday when they're all streaming out to go to work."
"Our forensics team is on the way," the officer said.
CJ considered what he'd noted over at the coffee shop. "I figured they'd be busy with the bombing site."
"You'd think." The officer glanced toward the agents and added so that only CJ could hear, "The FBI put a squash on it, wanted to use their own people."
CJ nodded his understanding. "Doubt they'll find anything except maybe fingerprints. The hand I saw was not gloved, so you may get lucky there." He looked over toward the lake and up and down the street. He noted a sign in front of the nearest building.
Mirror Lake, World's Largest SHUFFLEBOARD CLUB
"Shuffleboard?" he said.
"You've never heard of shuffleboard, Mister Washburn," Coulter said.
"Of course I've heard of shuffleboard. I just didn't know anyone actually played it."
"This is Florida, the favorite destination of mature adults. Shuffleboard, bingo, bocce ball, lawn bowling and pickleball are the sports to keep an eye on."
CJ turned his head to look directly at Agent Coulter. "Pickleball?"
"They play that down in Green Valley, Dad," Josh said.
CJ just looked at his son.
"Green Valley is south of Tucson."
"I know where Green Valley is, Josh. It's where the really old people live. I recall those words coming out of your mouth when you were maybe fourteen. How do you know so much about the really old people?"
"Dated a girl in high school whose grandparents lived there. We went to visit once."
"Did you play pickleball?"
"No, but we did play bingo."
Stella laughed and CJ smiled.
"If you all are through reminiscing," Agent Coulter said.
CJ took on his serious face. "Sorry."
"You're right. I doubt we're going to get much here. Still have to go through the motions, however."
CJ nodded and leaned back against the neighboring car with Stella and Josh. Looking at the truck, it was quite obvious there was nothing there. Pamela Moore was a tidy person, almost to the point of fastidious. The inside of the truck virtually sparkled. If the perps had left even a slice of fingernail, it would stick out. He wondered if she'd been told about it being used to take off Ms. Danohough's door.
Except for people trying to negotiate their vehicles in and out of the parking lot, there were few gawkers. Passersby were pretty much ignoring the police cars with lights strobing. After a bit, one man in blue shorts and a shirt sporting scattered and angled images of palm trees and the word, Florida, walked up to the uniformed officer.
"Is it possible to get my car out?" he said.
"Which one is yours?" the officer asked.
The man pointed to the sky-blue Toyota Prius against which CJ was leaning.
Before the officer could respond, CJ, Stella and the two FBI agents surrounded the man.
Agent Coulter presented his ID. "FBI Special Agent Brian Coulter. Your name is?"
"I'm Willis Horton, Willis Patrick Horton the Second."
"Okay, Willis. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"I just parked here," Willis said. "I don't know anything about anything."
"Chances are you didn't see anything, but we still need to ask. Was this truck here when you arrived?"
The man looked at the truck. "I don't think so."
"Are you sure?"
Willis looked at the truck again. "I'm sure. I believe there was a Jeep Wagoneer parked here. Can't say I really paid that much attention. I just parked and went straight in."
"Do you remember what time you arrived?" CJ asked.
"Of course I remember. I may be eighty-four but I've the mind of a forty-year-old. I parked at exactly 11:43 because I had a meeting at 12:00 with the shuffleboard activities committee. I like to be early."
Josh said to his father, "What was the exact time the bomb was thrown?"
"Between the manager of the coffee shop and a woman fro
m across the street, it was either 11:47 or 11:48."
Josh turned back to the old man. "Were there many others arriving for this committee meeting?"
"Four others."
"Did any of them arrive after you?"
"I was the first so, yes, they all arrived after me."
"Are any still in the building?"
Willis thought for a minute and then said, "Ruth Bebee was getting ready to leave right behind me. She'd withdrawn to the ladies room. All the others left some time ago. She and I are kind of hitting it off, if you know what I mean. We hung around for a long time after the meeting and chatted. She has two Great Danes and I have a Tibetan Mastiff."
"Thank you, Mister Horton. Could you take us in and show us to Ms. Bebee?"
"Certainly. She's much younger than I, only about sixty-five. My son thinks she's too young for me. If I didn't know better I'd be thinking he wants her for himself. He's sixty-six and got divorced a few years back."
They were following along with Mister Horton as he led them into the building.
"But he has a fight on his hands if he thinks he's going to barge in on his old man's territory."
CJ looked at Stella and stifled a snicker. She poked him in the ribs.
"Ouch!" he said.
When she realized he wasn't faking it, she said, "Sorry. I forgot."
They all stopped ten feet shy of the ladies' room, except for Stella. As she started to reach for the door to go in, a woman came out.
"Are you Ruth Bebee?" Stella said.
Appearing perplexed, the woman looked between Stella and the group of men sequestered behind her. "Yes."
"Ruth," Willis Horton said. "These folks are from the FBI."
"FBI?"
Again, Coulter produced his ID. "I'm Special Agent Ryan Coulter, Ms. Bebee. Please don't be alarmed. We're just trying to find witnesses to an event that occurred about the time you arrived here for your meeting."
Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2) Page 14