"Ow, that's got to hurt," Gabe said. "How much do you remember about what happened tonight?"
"I called Doc Winters, and he'll get here when he can," Nora said to Gabe.
"I told you I don't need that quack," Gramps grumbled.
"He’s coming, and that's that," she replied sternly. "If you don't behave, I'll call Nurse Hill, too."
"Not that old battle ax, please," Gramps huffed and found something in his iced tea more interesting than arguing with Nora.
"Gramps, tell me what happened," Gabe coaxed.
"I was putting the bonus in the packets for the workers tomorrow. I had a couple of other things to take care of, too. This place don't run itself. You'll figure that out quick enough.” He aimed that part at Nora.
"Rex heard something and took a walk out the door. I didn't hear him bark like he would if it was a stranger, so I thought he spied a mouse or maybe a rat or raccoon. They do come around at night. Well, I decided to stretch a bit before I quit for the night and followed Rex out and called to him. He was just sitting there with this pleased look on his face.
I took another step, and that's when I got hit. I got blindsided and didn't see who hit me, but Rex knew him. I'm sure of it."
More footfalls sounded, and Doc Winters appeared in the doorway.
"What some people won't do for a house call," Doc said, walking into the office. He placed his black bag on the desk and took out his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. "Let's take a look at that head of yours, Frank." He turned Gramps’ head to get a better look. "Hmmm, I think you need a trip to the hospital. You need your head examined, in more ways than one. Probably need a couple of stitches, too."
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Gramps answered defiantly.
Doc listened to his heart and took his blood pressure, "Pressure's high, but that's to be expected, and your heart is dancing a conga. Let's just put you in for the night."
"I don't need no damn hospital. Give me a couple of aspirin and leave me alone," the older man shouted. "Ow, not a good idea," he added—holding his head in his hands.
"Stubborn ol' fool. Nora, you can take him home, but watch him. Wake him every couple of hours. He's got a slight concussion. Too bad he wasn't hit harder. Then maybe I could shove him into the hospital for a proper checkup. Did you ever have that appointment booked for the checkup at Manatee Memorial like I asked?" he queried Nora.
"Yes, Nurse Hill called me. He has the appointment in two weeks. He wouldn't go until the picking was finished. I'm taking him myself, so he can't back out of it."
"Good, I want to see those results." Doc packed his bag and shook hands with Gabe. He tipped his hat at Nora, looked at Gramps mumbling, "Stubborn," and called his service to let them know he was leaving the Hollister place and walked out to his car.
Gabe and Nora helped Gramps down to his jeep. Nora drove, and Gabe followed them back to the house. They helped him get settled on the couch. Nora tried to put an afghan over him and left some water within his reach. He complained about all the fuss, refusing to go to his bed. "I'm fine. It will take more than a bump on the head to send me to my bed like an invalid."
They left the old man, the dog at his side, and went to the kitchen.
"How about a cup of tea, or would you prefer something cold," Nora offered.
"You got any more of those beers in the fridge?" Gabe asked.
"Good idea, I'll take one, too. We can sit on the porch." Nora grabbed two cold ones from the fridge and led the way. Flashing lights from a couple of police cars cast a kaleidoscope of blue and red in the night sky down by the packing plant.
"I called in the forensic team to go over the office. You never know. Maybe they'll find something. Hopefully fingerprints," Gabe said.
"Who could have done this? Everyone loves Gramps, and he’s always fair with everyone."
Gabe took a sip, patting Hobo’s head as she took up residence in his lap. "There is one person who has a reason to be mad at your grandfather."
"You mean Tito," Nora answered.
"Yeah, Tito. I think I'll have my men find him and bring him in." Gabe finished his beer, placed the reluctant cat in his lap onto the floor, and stood. “I'd like to stay, but even though I'm technically off duty, I want to chase this down. I'll drop by later tomorrow and check up on Gramps—and you, of course."
Nora stood and looked at the lights by the plant and then at Gabe. "I know you have to go, but I like you, uh, here with me on the porch."
"I like it, too," Gabe said. He took Nora by the shoulders and drew her closer to him. He tilted his head and gently kissed her lips. He couldn't help himself and deepened the kiss and felt her responding. She slipped her arms around his neck, holding onto him and resting her head on his shoulder long after the kiss ended. Kissing him brought to life sensations deep within her.
"You're lucky we have a chaperone. Even if he is snoring away on the couch," Gabe said, taking a breath and pushing Nora back to arm's length. In the dim light, he could still see the awakening desire in her eyes.
"I really have to go," he said with regret. "And you need to keep checking on Gramps. I also have Dan at my place. I'll come by tomorrow."
Nora walked Gabe out past her grandfather on the couch. "Night, Gabe," Gramps said. They both laughed and walked hand-in-hand to Gabe's car.
Gabe was in his office, nursing his second cup of over-brewed coffee when Sgt. Alvarez came knocking on his door. He signaled for the sergeant to come in.
"What have you got?" Gabe asked wearily. He had gotten practically no sleep after leaving Nora’s porch. Not only the events of last night had him riled up, but his thoughts also kept running off track and back to Nora.
"We got some fingerprints from the desk in that office. One of them matched a ten card right back to a recent guest of ours, Tito Ramirez."
"Good work; go pick him up. I want him in here today," Gabe said. "I'm meeting Dan for an early lunch, and then I'm going to check-on Frank Hollister. Call me when you find Ramirez."
Dan was already at the small diner when Gabe walked in. He waved him over to his booth in the back where they could talk and not be overheard. Gabe slid in, taking off his hat and sun glasses.
"Boy, do you look rough," Dan said—noticing the weary look in Gabe’s eyes.
"Yeah, yeah," he said signaling for the waitress to bring over more coffee. "Right now, the only thing keeping me upright is coffee."
"You said you had a suspect?" Dan prompted.
"Tito Ramirez." Gabe proceeded to fill Dan in on how Ramirez had worked for Hollister and got fired for falsifying records. Then he told him how Richie had gotten him bailed out.
“There are connections here,” Gabe continued. “But I can't get a handle on how it all fits yet. There are still some pieces missing. That plane showed up right when Richie and Tito got bailed out. Then on the next run, Richie turns up dead. I don't figure Tito for a killer, but he's connected somehow. I just have to figure it out."
The waitress came over, refilled their cups, and took an order for two burgers and fries.
After she left, Dan said, "I might be able to help you out a bit. I called D.C. this morning and talked to my office. Word is going around that your area is the prime location for the cartels and their cocaine drops. The Medellin Cartel is the biggest there is, and they're making a move into central Florida. Now, just what if, the plane you and Nora witnessed is dropping cocaine? Someone has to pick it up. Let's say this Richie and Tito get hired to do that pick up. What we don't know is who killed Richie and why."
Dan tucked into his burger, "Say, this is pretty good," he said around a mouthful and signaled the waitress for more coffee. “Can I get a piece of that blueberry pie, too?”
“Sure can, honey,” she said giving him a quick wink.
"Ok quit flirting with Doris and get back on track,” Gabe shook his head. “Same ol’ Dan.”
“We're back to last night and who robbed the packing plant. Who would know that the pay packets w
ould be handed out on Friday?" Gabe asked eating more of his burger, following it with a bit of coffee to wash it down.
"And who would know about the Jessup place? An old man all by himself, an empty field, a back way in-and-out . . .?" Dan continued the thought as the two men ate their burgers in silence for a few minutes. "Who knew all these things, yet is no more than a stupid patsy?" Dan asked around a mouthful of burger—catsup on his chin.
“Tito Ramirez,” they said at the same time.
“Doris,” Dan called. “Make that pie to go.”
Dan grabbed the check from the table, "I've got an expense account," he explained. Gabe left the tip, and they hurried to get back to the station.
Reaching the station, Gabe yelled for Sgt. Alvarez, "You get a bead on Tito Ramirez yet?"
Alvarez was getting ready to go out. Putting on a flak jacket, he took an assault rifle off the rack and shouted back, "Yeah, he's at a low-rate motel out by the highway in Bradenton. I was just taking a squad out to round him up."
"Good, we'll follow you out. I want him in one piece. He's got a lot of the answers to what's been going on around here."
Dan and Gabe hurried back to Gabe’s patrol car and joined the other cars on the way to pick up Tito.
"If Tito is involved with the cartel and the cocaine drops, he must know he's in way over his head," Gabe said.
"If by any chance, he was there when Cantura was killed, he's already in deep,” Dan added. "Tito's in big trouble," Gabe said.
Dan agreed. "He knows way too much to be left running around loose."
Chapter Twelve
It took almost an hour to get out to Bradenton and the motel. Gabe had the patrol cars stay out of sight until he could talk to the manager and find out which room Tito was in.
The manager's office was near the front. Gabe walked in and didn't see anyone at the desk, but he could hear a game show playing on a television in the back. He rang a bell on the counter and called out, "Sheriff's Office. Anyone here?"
A seedy-looking man emerged from the back with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He wore a rumpled t-shirt and jeans that looked like he had slept in them for days. A shower and shave were missing, too. Gabe could smell him from across the counter. A mixture of stale sweat, old booze and cigarette smoke had him trying not to breathe too deeply.
"I'm looking for this man," Gabe said, showing him a mug shot of Tito Ramirez.
"Yeah, he's here. What you want him for?" the man asked. Working the smoking cigarette around in his mouth, he tossed the picture back across the counter to Gabe.
"He needs to answer some questions for us. What's his room number?"
"Number nine, this building, last room on the bottom."
"Thanks," Gabe said—picking up the photo and warning, "Stay away from the phone and stay inside."
The clerk walked back to his television, "None of my business anyway," he grumbled.
The motel had three buildings arranged in a horseshoe fashion with a second-floor walkway connecting them. Some officers went to the room next to Tito's, knocked on the door softly, and had the occupants—a young couple with a baby—moved out of harm's way just in case things went sideways. Gabe told his men to
go around the back and come in between the two buildings, staying low and away from the windows. He wasn't sure what Tito Ramirez was capable of, or if he had any weapons.
Gabe and Dan, wearing flak jackets, walked up to the door of room nine. Standing to the side of the door, Gabe had his gun out ready and knocked hard. "Tito Ramirez, this is Sheriff McAllister. Open the door and come out here. We need to talk."
The men could feel the tension in the air. The curtains in the window above the ancient leaky air conditioner moved. The door cracked open, and Tito peeked out.
"Who's that with you?" he asked.
"This is Dan Parker. He's with the DEA in Washington."
"What's that?"
Dan took a chance and stepped out where Tito could see him better. "The DEA is the Drug Enforcement Agency. We're like the police or sheriff here except we only deal with drugs and the people that are bringing them into the country. I think you might have gotten mixed up with some very bad guys here, Tito."
Both Dan and Gabe could see the wheels turning in Tito's head. There was no place to run. He was not a stupid person. Just some of his choices were. "Okay, I'm coming out." Gabe signaled for his men to stay back.
"Come out with your hands up," Gabe instructed. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Tito eased the door open and stepped out, hands in the air.
Sergeant Alvarez came up with two more officers. They tossed Tito up against the building and searched him for weapons. One of them grabbed his hands and pulled them behind his back, putting cuffs on him.
"Take him to the station and sit on him until I get there," Gabe said. "He doesn't talk to anyone except me or Dan. No phone calls either, at least not yet." Alvarez marched Tito to a squad car while reading him his rights and deposited him in the back seat, not too gently.
Gabe walked into the motel room and found the empty pay packets tossed over the bed and floor. The money was in a neat pile on the dresser along with a half-empty bottle of cheap tequila and the remains of a take-out pizza.
"Well that went better than expected," Dan said.
"Yeah, I think he knows he's better off with us than with the cartel."
Back at the station, Tito was put in an interrogation room to wait for Dan and Gabe. He paced the room nervously back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. Through the intercom, they could hear him talking to himself as he walked. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I'm in for it now. If I get out of this, I'm a dead man. If I go to prison, I'm a dead man. Oh, shit. Shit fuckin’ damn. I really screwed up bad this time."
Gabe felt sorry for the guy. Tito was a pawn in a much bigger game. Dan wanted to grill him hard, though, for information on the Medellin Cartel.
"I think he's stewed long enough," Gabe said. "Let's see what he knows."
Dan followed Gabe in, and they sat down at a scarred wooden table in the middle of the room. Tito took a seat on the other side, "Thanks for the water, Sheriff," he said taking a drink from the bottle Gabe handed him. "Cheap tequila gives me a right bad head. Look man, you got me," he finally blurted out.
"What exactly did you do, Tito?" Gabe asked, nice and friendly like.
"Don't give me that, Sheriff. You know I stole that money from Hollister's. Is the old man okay? He wasn't supposed to be there. I just wanted the money. No one was supposed to get hurt. When I saw the dog, I freaked. Hollister was not supposed to be there. I swear I didn't want to hurt the guy, but I had to have that money. I'm in a hell of a mess." Tito was talking fast, shaking nervously and scared out of his mind.
"Mr. Hollister sustained a mild concussion and will be fine. We recovered all the stolen money, so the workers can be paid and move on."
Tito seemed to relax a tiny bit on hearing this.
Dan took over asking, "Did you mean to kill Mr. Jessup, or was that not supposed to happen either?”
"What?" Tito jumped up. "That wasn't me! I didn't touch that man!" He was pacing the room again—back
and forth, wall to wall, across the table from Dan and Gabe.
"So, you were there that night?" Dan asked.
"This is bad; this is so bad," Tito said as he walked. "Okay, I was there. But Mr. Jessup is old and deaf. He was supposed to stay in the house, asleep."
"I think you’d better tell us the whole story, Tito. Why were you and whoever was with you there in the first place?" Dan asked.
"I can't tell you anything. They'll kill me if I talk to you guys."
"Who's going to kill you? You have to give me names."
"No way. Those guys have a pretty far reach."
Gabe stood up and said, "Okay, you can go to prison for robbery and attempted murder. I'm sure your friends will love to have you in a nice cozy cell where anything can happen."
Tito sat back down at the table and dropped his head into his hands. "Jesuss, I'm so screwed."
"We can help you—maybe even offer witness protection.” Dan said. “You give us useful information, agree to testify against these friends you're so afraid of, and we give you a new life, new name and no jail time." Dan had the power to offer this to Tito, if and only if he cooperated with the DEA.
"How do I know you can do that?"
"How do you know I can't?" Dan asked. "I can and I will if you give me
what I need to get the guys responsible."
"Tito, I want the guy who killed Mr. Jessup and Richie Cantura," Gabe said.
"And I want the people who are in that plane dropping cocaine in Florida," Dan said. "The DEA is going after the Medellin Cartel, with or without your help. But I'm the only one who can give you witness protection and a new identity."
"You guys really know how to team up against a person," Tito said. He lifted his head and looked over at Gabe and Dan. "Do you promise I get this witness protection thing?"
"You have my word," Dan said, making the sign of the cross over his heart and raising his hand.
This Tito understood. "The guy's name is Santos. That's all I know him by."
"That's a start," Dan said.
Chapter Thirteen
For the next couple of hours Tito answered questions. Gabe knew that it had started with Richie Cantura helping to bail out Tito.
"Who put up the bail money for you and Richie?" Gabe asked.
"I thought Santos did," Tito answered.
"When did you first meet this guy, Santos?" Gabe asked.
"He was waiting for us when we walked out of jail that morning. We got in a van, and he took us to an abandoned tool shop."
Dan took over the questioning for a while when Gabe stepped out to have Alvarez run down who had put up the bail money. Maybe it was Santos, but he wanted to be sure there was not another player he needed to know about.
"Call down to Jenny on the desk and ask her to look up whose name is on the bail release for Tito Ramirez and Richie Cantura."
Blood Orange Page 7