Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2)

by James Paddock

  "None at all. She's the real deal."

  "Then I feel sorry for her, but I'll still have to break the wall down."

  "Is it going to be a problem?"

  "No."

  "What about Rebecca O'Reilly?" CJ asked.

  "She has no leg to stand on. The marriage will be recognized neither here in the United States, nor in Ireland."

  "She's going to be left high and dry then."

  "Afraid so. What do you know about her?"

  "She doesn't deserve it," CJ said. "That I do know."

  "Will she land on her feet?"

  "She has support from her brother and his family and a part-time job in her brother's Irish pub, which will likely turn into full time for a while. In six months, though, she's going to become a single mom. Life is about to get rough."

  "I've got the picture." She was silent for a time. "Tell me about the bombing. How is it that this is all tying together with Douglas' name on the bow?"

  CJ considered the question for a few seconds and then said, "That part I'd rather pass to you in a means that is more secure than a couple of cell phones. I don't believe, though, that it's of immediate importance to what you have to deal with concerning wills, marriages, burial rights and the like."

  "I'll take your word on that, CJ, and look forward to the entire report at a later time. What more do you think you have to do, or is it time to go home?"

  CJ looked over at Stella. "Stella and I are thinking about playing tourist for a little while. I also would like to meet with Eveleen Danohough at least once more. For what reason, I'm not even sure. I do want to ask her about Doug's real father. Would that be important to know for what you have to do?"

  "At one time I thought it'd be important. Now, even if he should still be alive, I have my doubts. I don't really know how productive having that knowledge would even be. Is that a worm can worth opening?"

  "Or is it just an old, empty can turning rusty?"

  "Another of your interesting analogies, CJ?"

  "My apologies. I have to say, though, it is an itch that has been growing slowly..."

  "And until you scratch it..."

  "You know me too well, Gianna."

  Gianna laughed. "Do what you feel you have to do, CJ. When you two are ready, go back to Tucson. If I need you for anything else, I'll let you know."

  CJ put his phone down and said to Stella, "Let's go visit Detective DuPont. Look up the address of the hospital on your iPad thingy."

  "What hospital? I'm sure there's more than one."

  "The cop yesterday said, St. Pete General. See if you can find that."

  When Stella did, they finished off their coffee and vacated the hotel restaurant.

  It was only about eight miles, or twenty minutes, to the hospital according to the GPS, but with taking precautions–studying people in the lobby and anyone hanging around outside, looking for suspicious characters sitting in a car by themselves, checking to be sure no cars moved shortly after they pulled onto the street, changing routes four times in an effort to reveal if anyone was following them–they arrived in the hospital parking lot thirty-three minutes later.

  "You're starting to freak me out a little here, Clint," Stella said.

  "Sometimes I feel like I'm freaking myself out, but after yesterday morning I just can't help it. Common sense tells me they're done, but I can't get that to override my paranoia."

  They sat in silence for another five minutes looking about, checking faces, watching for eyes having more than a glancing interest with two people sitting in a car.

  "Okay?" CJ said.

  "Okay," Stella said.

  They got out and entered through the main doors of the hospital.

  Parker DuPont was sitting in a chair, a bandage engulfing his head, his arm in a cast, nestled inside a sling, talking to a boy of about nine. Another boy and a girl, each in their teens, stood to the side, next to a woman. The older boy impressed CJ as being a younger version of Parker.

  "CJ Washburn!" Parker said when he spotted the two of them at the door. "Come in. Come in. I was hoping you'd drop by.

  They entered and Parker went on with introductions.

  "This is my family. The tallest, but not for too much longer it appears, is my wife, Gracie. Challenging her in height is Blake, fifteen, then Tracy, thirteen and Scott here at nine." Talking to his family, he said, "Guys, this is CJ Washburn, the private eye I told you about from Arizona. And this, I assume, is Stella...?"

  "Summers," Stella finished for him.

  "Stella Summers, CJ's partner."

  There were handshakes and good-to-meet-yous all around followed by concerns from Mrs. DuPont on how CJ and the two women faired in the explosion.

  After that report, CJ said, "How are you doing, Parker? Doesn't appear the damage was major."

  "Not bad at all. The nail actually fell out in the ambulance. I can already hear my new title floating around the precinct. A confidential source is telling me that there is talk of putting it on a welcome back banner when I return." He drew his free hand across the space in front of his face. "Hardhead DuPont!"

  "You're never going to shake the name if they do," CJ said.

  Parker snorted.

  "Can we call you, Hardhead Dad?" Scott chimed in.

  Parker hugged his son with his good arm. "As long as you say it with a smile on your face." To his wife, Parker said, "Can I have a few moments with these guys?"

  "Of course," she said.

  With no prodding, Blake grabbed Scott by his shirt sleeve and said, "Come on, Scott. Dad's having a meeting."

  "We'll come back in about fifteen minutes," Gracie said. She bent over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later, Hardhead."

  He reached out to slap her on the butt and she playfully scooted out of his reach.

  "Nice to meet you all," she said as they filed out the door.

  "Nice family," CJ said after Parker's wife and kids had left and he'd propped himself upon the edge of the bed. "When are you getting out of here?"

  "Believe it or not, about noon today I've been told. I haven't gotten any information about the bombing other than what I've been able to see on the news. My police force buddies keep saying they don't know anything and John Taffer won't tell me anything. What the hell is going on?"

  "You know about the United Irish Republican Army," CJ said, more as a statement than a question.

  "Yeah. I was there, remember, when you were drilling Danohough, just before all hell broke loose?"

  "Well, here's what we've come up with." CJ went on to tell him about overhearing agents talking about the FBI placing the HDRU on standby.

  Parker's mouth fell open and then he came upright in his chair, his eyes shifting to the doorway. Stella followed his gaze, saw no one there, and said, "I know what you're thinking, but we don't believe it's as bad as it sounds."

  "HDRU means nuclear, doesn't it?" Parker looked between CJ and Stella.

  "Nuclear or chemical," CJ said. "However, in this case the Feds believe it's chemical and small. Not a threat to the public as a whole, that is not to the extent that an evacuation would be a consideration."

  "You're sure?"

  CJ blew out a lungful of air. "No. Not one hundred percent. The agent I talked with I'm certain was being straight forward with what he knew, though I'm not convinced he knows everything. You've been watching the news. As you've seen there's been no mention of such a device. I'm sure the Feds are sharing information strictly on a need-to-know basis."

  "That's standard ops with them," Parker said. "They never divulge anything unless there's a reason. You sure you're not being fed just enough to keep you off their backs? You heard something and now they're covering it over and downplaying it, at the same time making like their being nicey nice with you?"

  "If it had come from Taffer, or any of his agents for that matter, I'd say you'd probably be right."

  "Ah." Parker sat back again, adjusted his casted arm a bit and said, nodding his hea
d slowly, "Your source is your son, then. He's here I assume?"

  "Yes."

  "You don't think he'd try to steer you wrong?"

  "He may try to avoid telling me, which, of course, he did, but once he realized I was already putting two and two together, he divulged what he knew. I just don't know that he's been told everything. He's an import from Denver and a new agent. How much of the big picture is Taffer really going to give him?"

  "My next question exactly," Parker said. "And here is another question. Have you seen any of my people around the crime scene; forensics, detectives, uniforms... somebody?"

  CJ shook his head. "Other than first responders and traffic control, nada."

  "That's been my understanding. Taffer has shut us out except for Doug O'Reilly's murder and your little boat incident. Seeing as I'm out for a time, Donald Gorky has taken over my cases, which means, by-the-way, you'll be hearing from him probably tomorrow, so don't leave town."

  "Why should he want to talk to me?"

  "Standard procedure when taking over another detective's case. Helps get familiar. You weren't planning on leaving, where you?"

  CJ looked at Stella. She shrugged her shoulders.

  "No, can't say we were, wanting to keep our options open, taking one thing at a time. We're trying to stay focused on what we came here for to begin with, which was Douglas Rothbower. With his death, his alias and another wife, things have become a bit more complicated."

  "Add in his relationship with UIRA and the FBI," Stella said, "and the fact that his mother, his second wife, and Clint have all been placed on someone's hit list, I don't see how we could leave."

  "So," CJ said. "there you have it."

  "Good." Parker said. He cleared his throat, looked toward the door and then back at CJ. "The thing is, I have an ulterior motive for wanting you to stay."

  CJ waited a few seconds. When nothing more came from Parker, he said, "And that is?"

  Parker cleared his throat again. "I'd like to ride with you guys... ah... guy and lady."

  Stella raised her eyebrows at him.

  "You want to ride with us?" CJ said. "Why? And what would your captain say?"

  "I'm now on leave and when I do return, with my right wing hobbled, I'll be stuck on a desk until I can prove my worth on the firing range. I've a hunch that's going to be a while. What I do in my off time is of no concern to the captain."

  "I'd be willing to bet the captain has a different take on that."

  "Maybe, but I don't care."

  "So you want to ride with us because you don't want to ride a desk," CJ said.

  "There's more to it than that. First of all, I know the area. I'd do a better job than your GPS. Second, I not only know the case, er... ah, cases involved here, I am a victim. Third, I want to learn how to do what you do."

  "What we do?"

  "Private Investigations. How did you become a PI? What did it take? How hard was it to find clients? What would you have done different if you had to start over?"

  "You're thinking of quitting the force and becoming a PI?"

  "Been playing with the thought for almost a year now. You showing up pulled it off the backburner, so to speak."

  CJ started to ask what the real motivation was, if it by chance happened to be the same reason CJ had when he turned in his badge and hung his shingle, that is to save his marriage. Before he could open his mouth, Stella responded.

  "Having someone along who knows the streets might not be a bad idea." She looked up at CJ. "We'll likely be around only another day or two. What do you think?"

  CJ was surprised. "Sure." Questioning Parker's real motivation when his family was about to return to the room might not be a good idea. There'd be plenty of time to talk to him out in the field. "Why not?"

  Chapter 26

  After selecting a quiet outdoor table, CJ and Stella examined Fresco's Waterfront Bistro's lunch menu. From where they sat at the foot of The Pier they could view Tampa Bay in the background, spires of sailboats in the foreground. CJ had given Stella a tour of the various piers from where they could look down at the activity around the boats on this early Sunday afternoon. He was hoping that she'd catch the sailing bug that had taken seed in him. So far, he couldn't tell. She hadn't said much.

  "So what do you think?" CJ said.

  "I think I'll have the Chicken Quesadilla."

  CJ started to say that he meant, "What do you think about sailing?" After a few seconds of deliberation, he decided to let it slide for a bit longer.

  "Chicken?" he said. "We're on the Florida coast. You can't get fish any fresher than right here."

  "I'm not a fish person."

  CJ knew this about Stella, however... "Fish in Arizona is not the same as Florida." He pointed down at his menu. "I'm having the Cajun Fried Grouper Sandwich."

  "First of all, I don't like fish no matter what state I'm in. Second, if I did decide to try something that might hint of fish, I certainly wouldn't get excited about grouper. Just the name sounds about as appealing as pickled pig lips."

  CJ laughed so hard he had to hug his cracked rib. "Oh, that hurt."

  "Sorry."

  "Grouper," he said once he had settled, "is just another big fish. Variety's can vary from ten or twenty pounds to hundreds."

  "I don't care how big it is. It's still fish and I still don't want to eat it."

  "Suit yourself," CJ said. "I don't see pickled pig lips on the menu, though."

  She stuck her tongue out at him and then looked across at a couple coming toward them, one of whom had a cast on his right arm. "Here's Parker and Gracie."

  CJ and Detective DuPont had agreed that when he was released from the hospital, Parker would call and they'd meet up. When the call came the two of them decided upon Fresco's Waterfront Bistro near The Pier for lunch, DuPont stating that he was anxious for some real food.

  "I agreed to drop him off somewhere to meet up with you guys, against my better judgment by-the-way," Gracie said. "However, when I heard him say to you on the phone that he'd meet you here for lunch, I decided I was going to get something out of this for myself. Before I could say it to him, he asked me to go with him. Can you believe that? My husband asked me out on a date without my hinting first."

  Parker started to open his mouth but Gracie put a finger up to his lips. "Don't you even say something that'll destroy my illusion.

  "So," she continued, "I dropped the kids home and here we are. We haven't been out to eat together without them since I don't know when."

  "December," Parker said as he pulled out a chair for his wife so she could sit across from Stella.

  "Sounds about right," Gracie said, "And when we're in the middle of a nice evening together, he inevitably gets a call. He's forced to be off duty now and can't be called in, so I'm taking advantage. If I'd known it was this easy to get his attention, I'd have driven a nail into his head a long time ago."

  CJ laughed again and then groaned.

  In the hour or so that they'd hung around the hospital, Stella and Gracie had become good friends, hitting it off like they'd known each other for years.

  Parker picked up a menu. "Have you ordered yet?"

  "No," CJ said. "Just got here."

  The table went silent while everyone looked over their menu. After they placed their orders, Gracie said to her husband, "Are you sure you're going to be okay running around? I think you should be resting. The doctor said to take it easy."

  "First of all, the nurses watched me all night," Parker said, "and the nail in the head did no damage. Barely broke the skin. Any insanity you see has always been there."

  "True," Gracie said.

  He made a face at her. "You don't have to agree with me."

  "Tis my job, Sweetie."

  "With my right arm in a cast I can't carry a weapon or sign credit card slips. I'm not even supposed to drive. How much damage can I do?"

  "To you or someone else?"

  "My wife is a comedian," Parker said. "I keep sayi
ng she should take it on the road."

  Gracie made the same face at him that he'd made at her.

  "How long have you been married?" Stella asked.

  "On a good day it seems like yesterday," Gracie said. "On a bad day it's more like forever."

  "My comedian point again," Parker said. "We will have been married nineteen years this coming spring, and it has all been blissful."

  Gracie snorted and then reached over and squeezed Parker's hand.

  "So, when are you two getting married?" Gracie said.

  CJ and Stella looked at each other.

  "When he first asked me," Stella said, "he wanted to run off to Las Vegas right then."

  "We were kind of in the middle of a case," CJ said, "so I guess the timing could have been a bit better."

  "Kind of in the middle of a case?" Stella said. "We were being pursued by the police and the FBI." She looked across at Gracie. "His proposal was that if we got married right away we'd not be forced to testify against each other when we got caught."

  Gracie's open mouth and wide eyes told Stella that Parker's wife didn't know anything about CJ's history. She said to Parker, "Clint led me to believe that he'd told you about the Tommy Clark case."

  "He did, but I don't share a whole lot of my work with my wife. He certainly didn't tell me about wanting to run to Las Vegas to get married, though."

  "This sounds like a very interesting story," Gracie said. "Start telling."

  And so, Stella and CJ did, finishing up about the time coffee was ordered and empty plates were taken.

  "So your reason for coming here was because Tommy Clark killed your lawyer's niece?" Gracie said.

  "Exactly," Stella said. "And it seems this nightmare is never going to end."

  "That's the thing about nightmares." Gracie took a sip of her coffee and pushed her chair back. "Seeing as you still have things to do to close down this nightmare and you're dragging my husband into it, I guess I'll take my leave."

  "I'm glad you came for lunch," Stella said.

  "Me too. Please bring him back in one piece. No more trips to the emergency room, thank you very much. Have had enough of that with the kids and he's not nearly as resilient as they are."