Greg McKenzie Mysteries Boxed Set—Books 1-4

by Chester Campbell

  I smiled. “We don’t care for chicory, either. But if it isn’t a lot of trouble, we’d go for the decaf.” I looked around at Jill. “Okay by you?”

  She nodded.

  “Lord help us,” Greta said, “it won’t take five minutes. Be right back.”

  When she left the room, Jill looked around. “Is she for real?”

  I put a finger to my lips. After all the slippery situations I’d been involved in during my career, I didn’t trust any place not out in public to be free of eavesdroppers. And I had known a few public places to be bugged or covered by something like shotgun mikes.

  “We’ll discuss it later,” I said. “Let’s just follow the script.”

  “Nice furniture,” she said, smiling.

  I looked up at the wall. “Do you think that’s Vermont or New Hampshire?”

  “I’ve seen places like that from the air all over New England.”

  True to her word, Mrs. Baucus was back in five minutes with a silver tray bearing three Delft cups decorated with windmills. After handing two of them to us, she sat down, raised her cup and grinned. “Mine’s the real thing. Got to have my caffeine fix.”

  Jill and I took tentative sips of our decaf, then I looked across at Greta Baucus. “We’re a little concerned by what we’ve heard about the accident on Perdido Key last Friday,” I said, trying not to sound overly anxious. “Were you there?”

  She nodded. “It was a great party until that...that balcony thing. I don’t know anything about construction. All I’ve heard is that we didn’t have anything to do with what happened. It was that guy’s fault who designed the building. Come to think of it, wasn’t he from Nashville?”

  Jill set her cup on a coaster. “Yes. It was in the newspaper at home.”

  “Well, the whole thing was terrible. We’d planned to sleep in the penthouse that night, but after all that mess we had to stay in a unit on the first floor. It had been furnished as a sample.”

  “The rescue people, the police and the news media must have been all over the place,” I said. “Did they keep you up late?”

  “I think it was after midnight when the last one left. I wondered if Evan would ever get to bed. There was this really nasty sergeant from the sheriff’s office who kept nosing around asking questions. Evan finally came in and had a couple of drinks to calm him down. And wouldn’t you know, we’d hardly got to bed when the phone rang.”

  “Had something else gone wrong?” Jill asked.

  “No. It was just a friend who needed some help. Evan handed me the phone and said he had to go out. It was twelve-thirty by then. I don’t ever want to go through a night like that again.”

  “I can certainly sympathize with you,” Jill said. “I’ve had some pretty bad nights when Greg was called out, back before he retired.”

  “What did you do, Mr. McKenzie?”

  “I was in the Air Force.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’ve had some scary nights, too. Well, I hope this Sand Castle business doesn’t turn you off from investing in Perseid. Can you come back tomorrow and talk to Evan?”

  “We’re on our way out of town right now,” I said. “But I’ll get back in touch with him.”

  Jill held up a restraining hand. “Before we go, could we see your flowers? Mr. Quinn at the bank said you had some really terrific plants out back.”

  “Hey, that’s my pride and joy,” she said, eyes widening.

  Jill shook her head in frustration. “I’ve never had much luck growing flowers myself. I love to look at them, though.”

  “Then by all means, let’s go have a look.”

  We followed Greta through the rear of the house out to the lawn, which stretched back some 200 feet or so. Large live oaks dotted the area, Spanish moss hanging like gray beards from their limbs. The grass looked so smooth it could have been clipped with scissors. Beds of impatiens in various shades of red, hibiscus in purple and white, and several fall flowers I couldn’t identify filled shaped areas around a large brick terrace behind the house.

  “It’s lovely,” Jill said. “Are you the gardener?”

  Greta smiled. “I do a lot of it, but we have a man who comes out now and then.”

  At the end of the driveway in back stood a two-car garage with a long, narrow building beside it. I pointed at the smaller structure. “Is that a boat house?”

  She chuckled with a mischievous grin. “Yeah. It’s Evan’s secret boat house.”

  “What could be secret about a boat house?” Jill asked, shaking her head.

  “He’d kill me if I told you.” Greta Baucus laughed.

  “We don’t want to be responsible for any mayhem,” I said. “Thanks a lot for showing us around. We appreciate your hospitality.”

  “Sorry you couldn’t stay till tomorrow,” she said. “I know Evan would have loved to talk to you.”

  Somehow I doubted that.

  Chapter 30

  We arrived back at Gulf Sands around noon. True to my word, I immediately put in a call for Sergeant Payne. He got back to me while we were eating lunch.

  “Did you turn up anything interesting in Biloxi?” he asked.

  I tried to put a smile in my voice. “Jill hit it big on the Wheel of Fortune machine.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I learned a few things of interest. I haven’t had time to put them in context, though. To draw any meaningful conclusions.”

  “I checked with Lieutenant Cassel before I called,” Payne said. “He wants you to come in at two o’clock. You know where our precinct office is?”

  “Right. The little house on Gulf Beach Highway.”

  When I told Jill, she frowned. “Do you want me to go along?”

  I shook my head. “I’m the culprit the lieutenant is after. You don’t need the Sheriff of Nottingham on your case as well.”

  “Nottingham? You fancy yourself as Robin Hood now?”

  “Would you believe Friar Tuck?”

  She grinned. “Sounds a little more appropriate.” Then she turned serious again. “I just might pursue a small project while you’re gone.”

  “Oh?” I wasn’t sure I liked the look on her face. It was a look that sometimes meant trouble.

  “I’ve been thinking about Sherry Hoffman. She lost her cool before you could find out much from her.”

  “That’s true. I’d like to know a lot more about her relationship with both Tim and Bosley Farnsworth. But I’m afraid she’s turned off on us.”

  Jill’s eyes twinkled. “She’s turned off on you, my dear. I never said more than hello during that visit.”

  “And you’re thinking you could get her to open up?”

  “I could surely try.”

  I had to admit the idea made at least a bit of sense. I knew that little tête-à-tête at the funeral home with Tara was no accident. Jill had always been someone people readily confided in. She was a good listener, sympathetic, not easily ruffled, non-judgmental.

  “So what are you proposing?” I asked.

  “I thought I would call and see if she might meet me somewhere in the area before you’re due at the lieutenant’s office. You could drop me off.”

  “Go ahead and give it a try,” I said. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

  I listened as she got Sherry on the line. “This is Jill McKenzie. I met you over at your house Tuesday afternoon. I feel terrible that we upset you so. My husband isn’t the ogre that he may have seemed to you. It’s just that his job always required him to dig really hard for the facts, then work to figure out their significance. Sometimes he isn’t too diplomatic, but he means well.”

  She grinned at my grimace.

  After listening a moment, she said, “I knew Tim fairly well. He was a delightful young man to be around. I know you must have felt his loss the same as we did. Frankly, I was impressed with your sincerity. I’d like the opportunity to make up for whatever grief we caused you the other day.”

  There was another brief pa
use. Then Jill said, “I had hoped we might be able to meet somewhere for a few minutes. I don’t want to take up a lot of your valuable time, but Greg has to be somewhere at two and he could drop me by.”

  She broke into a big smile. “That would be great, Sherry—I hope you don’t mind my calling you Sherry.”

  When she hung up, I said, “Sounds like you got a date.”

  “You are to drop me by her office at quarter till two. She’s taking me to a new coffee shop not far away. She said she’d bring me back to the condo.”

  After leaving Jill at Coastal Realty, I drove back to the Big Lagoon Precinct house. Lt. Nolan Cassel was seated behind a cluttered wooden desk when I entered the office. Although an average size guy, he appeared small compared to Sergeant Payne, who dwarfed the chair next to me. Cassel also looked tough as shoe leather, with short, bristly black hair, piercing gray eyes and a square jaw that translated “don’t mess with me.” I judged him to be mid-thirties.

  “So you’re Colonel McKenzie,” he said in a voice tinged with contempt. “The former DA’s investigator.”

  The emphasis he put on “former” left me with the impression that he had talked to someone in Nashville. Not someone friendly to me, for sure. But I had already decided to play it cool, try to keep the interview upbeat.

  I smiled. “That was a convenient little job to keep me from getting too bored after retiring from the Air Force.”

  “You were OSI, right? A criminal investigator.”

  “Correct. I also put in several years as a deputy for the St. Louis County sheriff in Missouri.” I chuckled. “That was probably before you were born.”

  His look said that didn’t win me any points.

  “And now you’re doing private investigations,” Cassel said.

  “Just looking into the death of a close friend’s son.”

  “Yes. I understand you’ve been interrogating people here in Escambia County. Are you familiar with Chapter 493 of the Florida Statutes?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was referring to my meeting with Charlie Brown, or if he knew about some of my other interviews. But I was certain of my answer to his question. “I know absolutely nothing about Florida law,” I said.

  “Well, I’d advise you to become familiar with it. Florida requires people who conduct private investigations to be licensed. Operating without a license will get you a five hundred dollar fine for the first offense. Then it gets worse.”

  I held up my hand. “Begging your pardon, Lieutenant, but are you telling me a private citizen, receiving no compensation, can’t ask people questions about things that have been going on around here? That sounds like a First Amendment violation.”

  His jaw tightened. “It’s when you start telling people you’re a PI that you get into trouble.”

  “I’ve been telling people exactly who I am and what I’m doing.” I was only exaggerating slightly.

  “I think you’re walking a tight line, McKenzie. Are you carrying?”

  “No, Lieutenant, I do not have a weapon on me. However, I have my nine-millimeter Beretta with me in Florida. I have a valid Tennessee permit to carry it, which I am advised is recognized by the State of Florida.”

  “You’d better watch your step. We get any reports of you harassing people, you’re in big trouble. And another thing, if you come up with any evidence of wrongdoing on anyone’s part, you’d damned better report it.”

  I glanced around at Payne. “I told the Sergeant here about some missing plans for The Sand Castle. I don’t have any proof, but I strongly suspect a former employee named O’Keefe took them. Of course, that was in Nashville, not here. And, by the way, O’Keefe was found dead in the bay around Dauphin Island yesterday. His neck was broken.”

  “He probably fell off a pier,” Cassel said. “Doesn’t sound like you have anything but speculation. Those videotapes at the Seashore should be enough to convince anybody. You realize you are the only person who has come forward with the slightest suspicion that Timothy Gannon’s death could have been anything but suicide.”

  I nodded. “I’m well aware of that. But I also know of four people who had a motive to kill Tim. I’m not going to stop digging until I find out who did.”

  When I arrived back at Gulf Sands, something unusual caught my eye. The parking area was still sparsely populated, with plenty of empty spaces up against the narrow flower bed that ran alongside the building. Only two vehicles were in the row next to the fence. One, a black Cadillac, had been backed into the parking space. Two men sat in the front seat.

  My venture into the PI business, even though just a one-shot deal, had heightened my alertness. I had returned to my OSI roots, paying close attention to anything out of the ordinary. And people did not ordinarily sit in black Cadillacs at Gulf Sands parked so they could keep watch on the building. I might have suspected some of Lieutenant Cassel’s flunkies, but I knew they would not be driving a Caddy. The way the vehicle was parked, I couldn’t see the license plate.

  While climbing the stairs to the second floor, I got a quick glimpse of the car. The two occupants were definitely looking my way. When I entered our condo, I called out for Jill but got no answer.

  I froze, gripped by a sudden, irrational fear.

  My session at the Big Lagoon Precinct had been mercifully brief, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that she had not returned. But a year-old memory of arriving home to a ransacked house and Jill missing left a hollow feeling in my stomach. I had almost lost her that time. I didn’t intend for it to happen again. As I looked around, however, everything appeared to be in perfect order, just as we had left it less than an hour ago.

  Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I moved to the bedroom window that faced the parking area. I was just in time to see the Cadillac moving toward the Gulf Sands exit. I could tell the license plate was not Florida or Tennessee, but the car was too far away to make out what state it was from.

  I removed the steel pin that prevented anyone from opening the sliding glass doors and walked out onto the balcony. I hoped the salty breeze would help clear the confusion in my mind. Were those guys really waiting for me to return? If so, who were they, and what were they up to?

  I was about to dismiss it as the work of an overactive imagination when I spotted Whitley down below, fishing something out of the swimming pool with a net attached to a long pole. He saw me at about the same time and waved.

  “Afternoon, Whitley,” I said. “Hot enough for you?” The sun beamed brightly in a sky so blue it seemed painted on.

  “This ain’t nothing, Mr. McKenzie. You know that. Now July and August, that’s hot.”

  “Did you by chance notice a black Cadillac in the parking lot?” I asked.

  He looked up. “You mean the one with the guy who asked about you?”

  I frowned. “Asked what about me?”

  Whitley lifted his cap and swabbed his forehead with a large red handkerchief. “He wanted to know which unit you lived in.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “Of course.” He grinned. “Ain’t no secret, is it?”

  I had to laugh, although the feeling I experienced deep down inside was not amusement. “I guess not. He want to know anything else?”

  “Just if you still drove a Jeep Cherokee. I told him you did, that it was a brown one with a Tennessee license plate. I figured he was an old friend.”

  “Well, if he was, he must have owed me some money,” I said. “He drove off right after I got here. Did you happen to see his license plate?”

  “Sure. I was coming across on my riding mower when he stopped me. It was from Louisiana. Had some kind of New Orleans sticker on his bumper.”

  I thought of Claude Detrich from New Orleans, and I remembered what had happened to Ollie O’Keefe from New Orleans. And I did not like the implications.

  Chapter 31

  Jill made her triumphant entry shortly after 3:30 and my stomach eased. Her enthusiasm bubbled over like a fountain, so I decided to hold
off any mention of the Cadillac from New Orleans.

  “Wait till you hear what I found out,” she said, eyes dancing.

  I ushered her over to the sofa. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Let’s have it.”

  “Sherry is a very charming young lady,” she said, leaning back and brushing a hand through her hair. “I tried my best to pay the check. After all, getting together was my suggestion. But she made the waitress hand her the check and she wouldn’t part with it for anything.”

  I mimicked Jill’s eye-rolling maneuver. “I guess she figured living with an ogre like me, you needed all the help you could get.”

  “Dummy,” she said with a grin. “Like Charlie Brown told us, Sherry is terribly bright. I suspect she can be pretty intense, too, when she’s after something. She likes to be in control. And I think she gets her way most of the time. That business with Evan Baucus was apparently an exception.”

  “Does that mean Tim was not an exception?”

  “Well, yes and no. They had a rather torrid affair during his days at the Naval Air Station. He spent a lot of time at her house when the admiral was out of town. She told me her mother had died when she was young. That was something we had in common that helped us to bond.”

  “How did she and Tim come to break up?”

  “It was that penchant she has to control things. Tim was unhappy with his assignment, as Sam told you. He had decided to get out of the Navy and come back to Tennessee. But Sherry had other ideas. She wanted him to stay in the service and asked her father to put Tim on a fast track for a Navy career. When Tim found out what she had done, he went ballistic. He told her she was not going to run his life. He submitted his resignation and left Pensacola.”

  “So he went to Nashville and approached Tara on the rebound.”

  Jill nodded. “That’s about the way it went. Sherry also got married on the rebound, but it turned out a disastrous mismatch. The guy didn’t measure up to what she had seen in Tim.”

  “Did they really have no contact until The Sand Castle?”