by Matt Day
“Monday morning before he headed off to work. His mother packed his lunch, like she’s done for the last few weeks. We both heard him come in rather late that night, but when we woke up the next morning, he’s was gone.”
“Did you actually see him come into the house Monday evening?”
“Well, no. It was almost midnight you see, and we were already in bed…”
“No worries. Was anything missing from his room, as far as you could tell?”
“Why, I don’t think either one of us even looked. It’s just so unlike him to do something like this.”
“Mr. Spencer, does your son have a girlfriend? Or maybe he likes to hang out with other boys his age?”
“No. Jimmy’s always been kind of a loner. All through high school, he kept to himself for the most part. And I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him talk to a girl, unless he had to. You know, at the grocery store, or maybe the drive-in.”
“Hmm…well, have you contacted the police?” Charlie already knew the answer, but Mr. Spencer didn’t know that and he always wanted to project the appearance of being thorough and doing things by the book.
“We did that yesterday, but they informed us that it’s not a crime for an adult to go off without telling anyone. An officer Morgan…”
“Chief Morgan.”
“What?”
“It’s Chief Morgan. He’s the Chief of Police.”
“Oh. Oh! Well, he gave us your name and number and said maybe you could help us find Jimmy. His mother and I are very worried about him. And don’t worry about your fees; we’ll be happy to pay whatever the going rate is.”
“I appreciate that. Okay, well… where to start?... Why don’t you give me your address? I’ll rearrange a few things and come by a little before lunch. In the meantime, why don’t you and the missus take a quick look through Jimmy’s room and see if anything’s missing.”
“Sure. We can do that.” Mr. Spencer gave Charlie the address and his eyebrows rose when he realized where these folks lived. Across the river, there were a whole bunch of large estates, homes with their own private docks, swimming pools, and even a few with tennis courts. The Spencer’s must be very well to do, if they could afford to live there.
Charlie hung up the phone, and then pulled out his calendar for the next week. Thankfully, he didn’t have any charters scheduled until the following Wednesday.
Picking up the phone, he dialed Morgan’s number, “Chief Morgan.”
“Morgan, Charlie here. I just called to say thanks for the referral. I just got off the phone with Mr. Spencer. I know we discussed this yesterday, but any reason to suspect this isn’t just a young man tired of being under mommy and daddy’s thumb? Any new information come to light overnight?”
Morgan chuckled, “They gave you their address, didn’t they?” Morgan didn’t wait for a response before he continued, “And to answer your question, not coming from that background. Mr. Spencer is a stockbroker who made his fortune before he was thirty. He and his family retired down here and now he spends his days boating or golfing.”
“Nice work.”
“Tell me about it. I wonder how the fine residents of Daytona Beach would feel if I took up golfing?”
“As long as it wasn’t during working hours, I don’t think they’d have an opinion.”
“That would take all of the fun out of it, don’t you think?”
“Most likely. Anyway, you have anything on the kid I should know about?”
“Nada. I did find out that his new job was working on one of the fishing boats, but mommy and daddy don’t recall ever hearing the name of the boat, or that of the captain or other crewmembers.”
“Well that certainly narrows the playing field down. There’s only what, sixty or seventy fishing boats docked around here right now?”
“More like eighty. I heard they’ve got an algae bloom about fifty miles south of us, so those boats have been travelling north, invading the local waters.”
“That’s got to make everyone real happy!” Charlie shook his head as he thought about the potential bar fights that would most likely come along with the trespassing fishermen.
Fishing was a territorial thing. But money was a driving force behind most human decisions, and if the fishing was off down south, those fishermen would think nothing about traveling north and encroaching on the local’s sites. Tempers would soar, and retaliation wouldn’t be far behind.
“Good luck keeping everyone and everything under control.”
“Yeah. And it’s a race weekend as well. We’ve got so many people in town right now, things are starting to get a little crazy out there.”
“Yeah, well hold onto your seat. I think you may have much bigger problems looming on the horizon.”
Chapter 13
“Spill it, Flanigan. What do you know?”
“It’s not what I know, it’s what I observed. I saw a group, of what I assume, are Cuban mafia last night over at the Seabreeze café. It looked like they are staying at the Skyline Hotel. I couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but what I did hear made it sound like they are exploring a new “investment opportunity” in Daytona Beach.
“The fact that they’re staying at the Skyline struck me a little funny. It’s a race weekend. They also had a visit from some very interesting men before they retired to their hotel. These new men picked up their two female escorts, and left two suitcases behind.”
“Are you thinking that the mafia now is going to try and muscle in on the racing money?”
“Sounds probable. Oh, and one of the men wasn’t Cuban. If I had to guess, I’d say he was Italian. Same as the suits that dropped off the suitcases.”
“Great! Just what I need on top of everything else. Daytona Beach used to be such a quiet place to live…”
“Who are you trying to convince? Yourself? Or Me? Daytona Beach hasn’t been a quiet place to live for several decades.”
“Gosh, I wish it would become a quiet place to live. My ulcer’s been acting up, and the last thing I need is the mafia creating havoc in my own town.”
“Well, no havoc has been created as of yet. That I know of, anyway. I just thought I’d mention what I’d seen.”
“Thanks.” Morgan really was grateful for the information; he’d send a couple of officers in that direction to check things out. “So, you’re probably wondering about the Maclean boat.”
“Any news to report?”
“Not a damn thing! The Coast Guard came up empty handed too. The only thing we’ve been able to uncover was the identity of the third man.
“The mother of Jacob Parker came to the morgue last night to identify his body, and accidentally saw the wrong corpse. Turns out, it was her other son, Joseph!”
“Oh my God! What a way to find out both of your sons were dead.”
“Tell me about it. Word got back to the Mayor about the mix-up, who called me first thing this morning to find out what I was doing to ensure something like this doesn’t happen again.”
“And you told him to mind his own business?”
“Not hardly,” Morgan replied with a huff. “I said ‘Yes sir’ very politely and then called the hospital morgue and let them have it.”
“What are the chances that something like that could actually happen?”
“Don’t ask me. It’s been my experience that if it might happen, it usually does. Anyway, the mother identified both men. Joseph had only been back in the Daytona area for a few months. He did some time over in New York State before returning home after he was released. His mother also confided in me he had been recovering from a drinking problem and had been attending AA meetings over at St. Peters.
“You said you didn’t recognize him?” Morgan asked, as it was common knowledge that Charlie was part of the local AA group, and had been since the death of his wife and daughter.
“Not that I can recall. There’s a second group that meets on Monday nights, so maybe he was attending that one. I can check
it out next time I go.”
“Do that.”
Charlie was quiet; something Morgan had said started a thought in his brain. After a few moments of silence, he asked for clarification, “You said Joseph did time in New York?”
“Yeah, he did five to ten for grand theft, but they let him out for good behavior. According to his records, he was deemed rehabilitated. Why?”
“Well, those men were brutally murdered, in ways that we don’t normally see around here. What if Joseph had connections to the mafia, and they followed him down here to get even? Payback if you will.”
“Keep going,” Morgan urged, following Charlie’s train of thought and nodding his head at how it seemed to make the most sense from any scenario that had thus been suggested.
“Well, maybe it was him they were after, and Captain Maclean and Jacob just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“So, are you thinking those mafia men you saw killed our victims?”
“Maybe…No... If they had done the killing, they would have already left town. Three of the four men I saw were Cuban. If Joseph ran afoul of the mafia in New York, we’re talking men like Luciano or Lansky. I really don’t even want to think about those types of individuals setting up shop in Daytona Beach.
“I think it’s probably just a coincidence that those other men are in town right now.” Charlie’s mind immediately turned to the two suitcases the men had exchanged.
What was in those? Maybe the Batistos had done the killing, and Luciano’s men had paid to have it done? Keeping those thoughts to himself, he decided to do a little more investigating on his own. He knew a few of the chambermaids over at the Skyline; with a little green incentive, they would have no problem at all with snooping through those men’s rooms. He’d stop by there later and make the arrangements.
“Well, nevertheless, I’m going to send a couple of suits over to check things out at the Skyline. No sense hiding our heads in the sand and waiting for them to cause a stir, when a little preparation could stop them before they get started.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Well, I’m headed off to meet with the Spencers.”
“Good luck. They’re probably worried for nothing. A kid that age, still living at home, he either found a new girlfriend, or he and some of his buddies headed up the coast for a little fun.”
“Yeah, I’m with you on that, but they’re paying, so I’ll look.”
Morgan’s chuckle could be heard as Charlie hung up the phone. Pulling the sheet of paper off the tablet, he grabbed his hat and headed out. Time to go earn a paycheck!
One thought kept running through his mind as he drove to the Spencer’s home. What was in the suitcases? And who were these Cuban men?
Chapter 14
Late evening, Monday, August 25, 1955, Mac’s Place…
The Cubans were not happy that one of their own had been stupid enough to get caught up in a bar fight.
The group of six, four men and two women had come up from Miami, looking for investment opportunities, and to check in on the boss's business ventures in the area. The tropical storm that had recently passed had thrown a huge curveball at the entire organization, and their mission was to find a way to fix things.
When the red-haired kid had started running his mouth about treasure, Eduardo’s ears had perked up. The older man with him had tried to shush him up, but the kid was really drunk and having none of that.
Everything would have been fine if Juan could have just held onto his temper for a little bit longer. But Juan Veracruz wasn’t known for his patience or his self-control, and as a result, he was now ensconced in the back of a police car, headed for the Daytona Beach lock-up.
At least he’d had the good sense to toss his blade into the tall grass before the cops showed up. It would be fairly easy to bail him out with only bar fighting charges against him, but weapons charges would be a whole different ball game.
Nodding his head to the side, he had Manny go retrieve the blade, smiling when he came back with it a few minutes later. Manny was a good kid, he knew how to keep his mouth shut, and had untapped potential that the mafia planned on making use of in the years to come.
Movement from the side door of the bar caught his attention – the red-haired kid was slipping away! “Hey, Manny,” he softly called, whispering his instructions in his ear.
Manny nodded and then faded into the shadows, right behind the unsuspecting kid with the big mouth.
Turning back to the action taking place in the front of the bar, they watched as the police car drove away with one of their own and the older man who had been with the red-haired kid. Eduardo Sorrano, the group’s leader for the present time, called over the girls who had been travelling with them for the last few days.
Handing the two women a wad of cash, he instructed them to go bail out his friend and then meet them back at the hotel where they were all staying; the Skyline Hotel, located down across from the beach.
The hotel had been chosen because there was such a variety of people coming and going each day. Stock car racers favored the establishment, as well as spectators and tourists alike. Unlike some of the other hotels in the area, the employees at the Skyline didn’t seem to care if their patrons were black, red, or brown - they accepted everyone who had the ability to pay the nightly rate.
After sending the girls off on their mission, he and his boys headed back to their rooms, making plans to visit the fishing boat that had been mentioned by the young man in his drunken ramblings before his friend had intervened. The information he had given out might be only the imagination of a young man with stars in his eyes, but then again, what if he was telling the truth! It was definitely worth investigating further.
In the meantime, Manny would keep an eye on the kid and report back to Eduardo if anything useful turned up.
As they made their way back to the hotel, Eduardo began making plans for the upcoming days. The races were set to start in the morning, with the qualifying “measured miles” to begin as soon as the tide rolled out.
On Wednesday, his New York counterparts would be arriving with some much needed assistance; both financial and material. The races would begin on Friday, and with the hordes of spectators and tourists in the area, there was definitely a profit to be made this weekend.
His boys were ready and willing to help the organization recoup its most recent losses. In any way possible...
Chapter 15
Friday, August 29, 1955, Daytona Beach Road Course…
Friday morning rolled around too soon. Charlie had spent the better part of Thursday afternoon searching all of the usual teenage hangouts. Young Jimmy had been nowhere around, and even though Charlie was able to locate several of his friends, no one had seen or heard from him since the week before.
Wally had helped him, and together they had visited all of the drive-ins, bowling alleys, and any other place where kids his age were known to congregate.
Several of the boys Charlie had questioned had mentioned Jimmy’s fascination with the stock car races, so that was why Charlie found himself parking his car on the sandy beach, and joining the hundreds of people who had come out to watch the first race.
“Come on,” he told Wally, dreading the upcoming hours that would be spent pushing his way through the masses of people who had come down to see the cars race. “You go right, and I’ll go left.”
“Sounds good. What do you think, about an hour and we’ll meet back up?”
“Yeah, that should give us both time to walk down a ways and then come back up the inside. How we’re supposed to find a single kid in this sea of humanity, I have no idea.”
Wally looked thoughtful for a moment, and then got a smile upon his face, “Those kids yesterday said he was fascinated with the changes some of the racers were making to their cars. Why don’t we focus our search on the cars? There’s not as many people milling about pit row compared to all these spectators crammed together, and he should be easier to spot.
”
“Let’s hope so, it’s already hot out here,” Charlie complained, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He was wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt today, a bright green with orange and brown volcanoes and little surfer boys scattered on it. He noticed he caught quite a few astonished looks, and simply smiled back. What did he care if they didn’t like his choice of clothing? They didn’t have to wear it; he did!
He wandered along pit row amongst the spectators, paying special attention to groups of young men about Jimmy’s age. When he had travelled several hundred yards down the beach, he turned and made his way back up, concentrating on the spectators closest to the cars – and there were some amazing ones today!
The cars gathered for the race varied from newer, souped up models, to standard models that looked like they had just been driven off the showroom floor. Most of the cars were missing their headlights. In addition to having extra seats removed, most of drivers had altered the front hoods and under skirting of the vehicles by covering them in masking tape.
Racing on the sand had many advantages, but it also had some significant disadvantages. A free sandblast job on your vehicle’s paint was one of them. As with most of the current races, the trial runs had already taken place – the dreaded “measured mile.” Cars would race a straight path, one mile down the sand, proving that their vehicle was worthy of a spot in the actual race.
Cars that didn’t measure up were eliminated before the race even began. Racing at Daytona was unlike any other place in the U.S. and for that reason, earning a spot at the starting line was a coveted position.
During high tide, the racing surface of the sand was completely covered by ocean water. Only when the tide had receded, did the hard-packed sand reveal itself, letting racers and spectators alike avail themselves of the surface.
Beachgoers normally flocked to the beach looking to swim and to soak up the sun’s rays, play some volleyball, or just enjoy one another’s company. That was, on non-race days.