Coastal Fury Boxset (1-3)

by Matt Lincoln

  “Wrong,” I said.

  “You’re right. It’s wrong.” She sent me a bemused grin. “You seem pretty sure of that already, though. How’d you come to that conclusion?”

  Holm decided to answer that. “Mister brazos bolas here marched into the Congo Kings headquarters and questioned the head honcho after we mostly struck out at the victim’s house.”

  Both Ethel and I stared at him.

  “What?”

  “Your Spanish sucks, Robbie,” I said.

  He frowned. “Doesn’t that mean brass balls?”

  “Well, you got the balls part right, but brazos means arms.”

  Ethel finally let out the laugh she’d been suppressing. “Maybe you should stick with cojones, Mister Arm-Balls,” she said. “It’s easier to remember than bolas de latón, which is what you meant to say.”

  “Arm-balls?” Holm made a face. “Guess I’d better take that Spanish refresher course I’ve been putting off.”

  “Anyway, back to the body,” Ethel said as she grabbed the corpse’s forearm, lifted it, and pointed to the marks around his wrist. “He’s got genetic material under his fingernails, which is being tested right now, but that’s not the interesting part. These ligature marks aren’t right. There are no signs of abrasion, which suggests the victim didn’t struggle at all after he was tied. Highly unlikely. And beyond that, the damage is only superficial with barely any internal bleeding, which means…”

  “He was already dead when his wrists were tied,” I said.

  Ethel cocked a finger gun at me and pulled the trigger. “Give that man a cookie.”

  “So this was almost definitely a setup, meant to look like gang-on-gang violence.” I walked slowly down the length of the table to take a fresh look at the body. “Did you get anything from the wounds on his feet?”

  She nodded. “That’s the other interesting thing I was going to tell you about. He walked on coral, slashed his feet up pretty bad. He wasn’t wearing shoes at the time, and I also found some wood splinters in there.”

  “Wood?” I cranked an eyebrow. “He could’ve picked that up in the cave, but not the coral. There wasn’t any in there.”

  “Yeah, I heard about your pirate ship. Bonnie’s fit to burst,” Ethel said with a laugh, “but the splinters in your victim’s feet were not from some ancient wreck unless you know about any pirates who used epoxy. That was modern wood from a modern boat.”

  I blinked. “You’re sure about that.”

  “The lab rats are testing the stuff right now, but yes, I’m sure,” she said. “Looks like your victim washed up from a boat wreck. He was still alive when he got to shore.”

  “Until somebody came along and shot him,” I muttered with a frown. There hadn’t been any sign of a recent shipwreck on that beach or any type of rescue equipment. No inflatable raft, no life vest. Just a dead guy who kept generating more questions than answers.

  “Alright. Thanks, Ethel,” I said. “We’d better go see if the lab rats have turned up anything.”

  “Don’t you boys go finding any more dead bodies until at least Monday morning,” Ethel called after us as we left the morgue. “I’ve got plans with a live one tonight.”

  Once we were out in the hall and heading for the lab, Holm snorted and shook his head.

  “That woman is insatiable,” he said. “Hey, have you ever—”

  “No,” I said before he could finish what I knew he was going to say.

  “Me neither, but I’ve thought about it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You have too, right?”

  I decided not to dignify that with a response. It’d be like sleeping with my sister if I had one.

  My much older sister.

  In the lab, Bonnie was on the main computer and this time Clyde was nowhere in sight. One of the computer monitors showed a magnified image of a spent bullet, and the other was flashing with a search result. Bonnie turned with a smile when we walked in.

  “I hear this wasn’t just another gang shooting,” she said, curiosity plain in her eyes. “Tell me everything.”

  “When we know, you’ll know,” I told her as I returned the smile and pointed at the screen. “Looks like you matched something there.”

  “I did!” She typed something, and the flashing search box vanished to be replaced by a mugshot of a man with thick dreadlocks, facial tattoos, and a dead-eyed stare. He looked surprisingly familiar, though I couldn’t pull his name from wherever it might be lodged in my head.

  “The bullet from the victim matches an unregistered gun used in two previous crimes,” Bonnie said. “This guy was accused of both but never convicted, because they couldn’t find the weapon and the witnesses… Well, you can guess what happened to the witnesses.”

  Yes, I could. Witnesses to any crime committed by the Black Mambas tended to clam up quickly and change their minds about ever seeing anything. If they didn’t recant fast enough, they usually caught a swift case of death.

  “The weapon is a nine-millimeter Smith and Wesson 952,” Clyde announced as he rounded the corner through the open back room door, carrying a couple of creased folders which he handed to me. “I managed to find copies of both case files for you on those previous crimes.”

  “Which were murder and attempted murder,” Bonnie said, “and the suspect’s name is—”

  “Agay ‘Sniper’ Benta,” I said, finally coming up with the name. “Cobra Jon’s right-hand man.”

  “That’s the one.” Bonnie grinned.

  Holm made a tutting sound. “Dude shot his own flunky,” he said. “Must be hard to find good help these days.”

  “Yeah, and we need to know why, because I don’t think the Black Mambas are done with whatever Chad Sweeting started.” I glanced at Bonnie and Clyde. “I’m gonna need solid evidence just to pick this asshole up for questioning, or he’ll just weasel out of it again. Can you find it for me?”

  They both nodded. “You know we can,” Clyde said. “Might get a hit from the stuff under the victim’s fingernails, but that’ll be a while. We’ve got a few more possibilities though.”

  “Aces up our sleeves,” Bonnie added.

  “Fine.” I nodded thoughtfully. “Call me when you have something.”

  We headed out and took the elevator back to the squad room.

  “I guess today is well and truly shot,” Holm said just as the car stopped on the main floor. “Want to grab drinks tonight?”

  “What, you and me on a boat?”

  “Screw the boat. Now I’m thinking bars and babes.” The door chimed open, and he walked out first, stretching his arms. “Found a new place I’ve been meaning to check out, somewhere we haven’t been before.”

  I skirted around him toward my desk, knowing it’d be a while yet before I left the office. But hell, I could use a drink later. “Yeah, where’s that?”

  Before he answered, I stopped short when I realized there was someone already at my desk, and she smiled when she saw me.

  “Agent Marston,” she said. “I emailed you, but I didn’t hear back, so I thought I’d come by and make sure you had everything. See if I could help with your case.”

  I managed not to groan. It was Tessa Bleu, the civilian from the beach. The last thing I needed was a civvie trying to play detective.

  Even one as pretty as her.

  9

  Tessa had her camera in hand, and she looked between Holm and me expectantly as if she was waiting for us to give her a badge and start walking her through the evidence. I figured she’d probably been watching too many cop shows.

  “Thank you, Ms. Bleu,” I said. “You really didn’t have to come all the way down here, though. I would’ve checked my email eventually, and those pictures really don’t have much we can use. I’ve seen them.”

  She smiled. “It’s Tessa, remember? And that’s exactly why I came.” She held up the camera. “I sent you smaller copies, but the original image files are too big to email. I shoot at the highest resolution. So I thought if you downl
oaded the photos directly from the camera, maybe your lab could get something from them. You do have a lab, right?”

  I had to admit, that actually might be useful. “Yes, we have a lab,” I told her. “Is it okay if my partner takes your camera down there? I’d like to ask you a few more questions, while you’re here.”

  “Um, it’s…” She clutched the camera closer, stared at Holm, and bit her lip. “It’s very expensive,” she finished almost apologetically. “Please be careful.”

  He smiled. “Kid-glove treatment all the way. I promise.”

  “Alright.” She handed it over to him like a mother letting someone else hold her newborn baby for the first time, then reached in a pocket and drew out a black cord. “Here’s the USB cable. You’ll bring it back to me?”

  “Of course. This shouldn’t take long.” Holm took the cord, gave me a “we’ll-talk-later” look, and then headed for the elevator.

  He probably wanted to know why I’d decided to question her further when she couldn’t possibly have anything more to say beyond what she’d told us at the scene. To be honest, I wasn’t sure myself. I just had a feeling that she was more important to this case than I’d initially thought.

  I pulled a chair out from an unused desk and brought it over next to mine.

  “Have a seat,” I told her as I circled behind the desk and sat down.

  She watched me as she lowered herself into the chair. “Is this an interrogation?”

  “No,” I said with a laugh. She’d definitely been watching too many cop shows. “Believe me, you’d know if I was interrogating you.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I wasn’t sure if that relaxed her any, because she kept looking around wide-eyed at everything as if she expected an armed SWAT team to pop out and swarm her. “I’ve never been in an agency before. It’s so… normal. Is this what the FBI and the CIA look like?”

  I laughed again. “Not exactly. They have bigger budgets. They do look pretty normal, though, just like us. It’s not all flashy computers and high-tech target ranges and urgent meetings around tactical simulation layouts. Just a bunch of people sitting at desks.”

  “With badges and guns,” she said with a smile.

  “True.” I returned the smile and swiveled my chair to face her fully. “So, Tessa, what made you decide to entrust us with your camera? I seem to recall you refusing to hand it over, back on the beach.”

  She blushed slightly and glanced away for a moment. “Okay, so I’m a little overprotective of my equipment,” she said. “Tell me this, though. Would you hand over your gun if someone asked you to?”

  I grinned. “Point taken.”

  “That wasn’t the only reason,” she admitted with a sigh. “Honestly, I was scared and more shaken up than I realized at the time. I’ve never seen a dead body before. I mean, I have at funerals, but… never like that. Not with blood and everything.” She closed her eyes and shivered.

  “His face. He looked so horrified,” she whispered.

  I’d seen worse, but now wasn’t the time to start talking about all the dead bodies I’d encountered on the job, not to mention the ones from my time in the Navy. She was right about the expression frozen on the victim’s face, though. Horrified, yes, and betrayed.

  Sweeting must have known, in the split second before the bullet entered his brain, that a man he trusted was going to pull the trigger. That look on his face might’ve been one of the things that ignited my suspicion about this case since the beginning.

  I decided a change of subject was in order since Tessa looked like she was about to cry. I could just work my way back to the case when she calmed down a bit.

  “So you’re here in Miami on assignment?” I asked. “What’s the job?”

  She brightened at that, and I could see she loved talking about her work. “I’m doing a big piece on tidal pools for the National EcoStar. That’s the magazine I write for. I mean, sometimes I take freelance assignments, but mostly I work for the EcoStar.”

  Something about the name rang a bell, even though I wasn’t a magazine reader unless I was stuck in a waiting room with nothing better to do than check out whatever reading material was lying around. That didn’t happen often, and the selection was usually along the lines of Redbook, Better Homes and Gardens, and Popular Mechanics. Still, I knew that name, and not because of the magazine itself.

  I was pretty sure I knew someone other than Tessa who had something to do with the National EcoStar.

  “Oh, and I had permission. To be there.” Tessa pulled me from my thoughts with the hasty comment as if I’d questioned her right to take pictures of a beach. Probably because there had just happened to be a murder victim there. “The Navy gave my editor the okay.”

  I made a noncommittal noise and then forced myself to pay more attention to her. “That’s fine. CGIS didn’t say anything, so I guess they already checked on your clearance,” I said. “Tell me more about your tidal pool piece. I’m assuming you were trying to get photos of the pool in that cave?”

  “Yes. I knew there was likely to be one in there,” she said as her gaze wandered away from me again. “The conditions were just about perfect. I started out taking wide shots of the area, and I was closing in on the cave when I noticed the… you know. In my flash. That’s when I called 911.”

  “So you didn’t get any pictures of the actual pool, or anything inside the cave besides those exterior shots?”

  She shook her head. “This was supposed to be my initial shoot, and then I was going to go back tonight and maybe tomorrow to get some pictures in different lighting. I stayed out when I saw… him, because it was a crime scene. Why, did I do something wrong?”

  “Not at all. You did great,” I told her. “Thank you for not screwing up my crime scene.”

  I was also kind of selfishly glad she hadn’t been in the cave before we got there. Otherwise, my ancient shipwreck find would’ve been hers, and I had a feeling I never would’ve gotten near it. No doubt the skeleton and the boat wreckage would have made a great story for her magazine, and then it all would’ve gone to some museum.

  No one would have cared that the Dragon Rogue was important to me personally. It was probably a national treasure or something, but I had to be the one to find it.

  I owed that to my grandfather.

  “Agent Marston,” Tessa said slowly as she studied my face. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I would be allowed to go back to the cave tonight, so I can get my photos?”

  “Sorry, but no,” I said. “It’s still an active crime scene for now.”

  She nodded as if she’d expected me to say that. “All the more reason for me to help with your case. The sooner you solve it, the sooner I can get back there and finish my job.”

  “Thank you, but I think you’ve given us all the help you possibly can,” I said. “It’s best if you stay out of it until we’re finished.”

  She looked so disappointed that I was tempted to try coming up with some mundane, pointless research she could do to keep her busy and safely out of the way while feeling like she was helping. Before I could do that, the elevator dinged and rumbled open, and Holm strode out with her camera carefully cradled in his hands.

  “We’ve got everything we need from this baby,” Holm said when he reached us and presented Tessa with the camera. “Bonnie and Clyde were very impressed. This is the high-end real deal you have here, Ms. Bleu. Great photos, too, under the circumstances.”

  “Thank you,” she said almost shyly as she took the camera and packed it away in her ever-present bag. “I hope they were helpful.”

  “You know, they actually might be.” Holm caught my eye and nodded. “Bonnie thinks she can blow up a few of them enough to get a workable image of the figure on the cliff. It’s going to take a while. Probably tomorrow morning, she said, but if it’s who we think it is…”

  “We can place him at the scene, and we’ll have enough to bring him in,” I finished with a smile. “See, Tessa? You have been helpful.”r />
  She returned the expression, but her smile wilted slightly. “Who is he?”

  “It’s best if you don’t know that,” I said. “Trust me, you don’t want to be in the middle of all this.”

  Her lip quivered a little. “What if I already am?”

  “What do you mean?” I said sharper than I intended to, thinking she’d tried to go poking around in the case on her own.

  She sucked in a tiny breath. “Well, I… I took a picture of a guy who might be a killer. He was pretty far away and I used a telephoto lens, but what if he saw me? Do you think he’d come after me?”

  I actually figured that Agay Benta had gone back to the Bahamas to report to his boss and regroup, so they could finish whatever their victim had started here. However, there was a chance he’d seen her, and though it was impossible he’d been able to identify her from that distance, he could be making inquiries. And maybe he would end up thinking she knew something that she didn’t.

  I sighed and reached for the phone. “Where are you staying?” I asked her.

  “The Palm Bay Inn, room 430,” she said with an apprehensive look on her face. “Should I be worried?”

  That wasn’t far from here, at least. “Probably not, but I’m going to call Metro and have them keep an eye on your motel tonight, just in case,” I said. “I’ll ask them to keep a low profile, too. If any of them are asking around, they’ll get suspicious if they notice a random police presence where there shouldn’t be one.”

  “Any of who?” Tessa breathed.

  Damn. I didn’t want to mention the word “gangs” to her, and I held a hand out in Holm’s direction as he opened his mouth, probably to do just that. “We think the killer may have associates,” I said carefully. “They aren’t usually around here, though. They’re in a completely different country.”

  “What, like Mexico? Is it a drug cartel?”

  Both Holm and I had to smother a laugh. “Do you get your information from CSI, or Law and Order?” I asked, gently teasing.