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Luca Mystery Series Box Set

Page 24

by Dan Petrosini

“But you gotta stay here. You know, this is the, the command center.”

  “You think so?”

  Bingo, she was listening to me already. “Of course. You’re the perfect person to be running things from here.”

  She briefly smiled. “If you think so.”

  “Absolutely. We should both be here.”

  “No, no. You can’t stay here, Dom. Nobody knows Phil like you do. You’d know where to look. Peg will stay with me.”

  Damn. Much as I wanted, I couldn’t push back against the reasoning.

  Off I went with ten other do-gooders who started calling Phil’s name out before they got off Robin’s driveway.

  ***

  It was muggy as all hell, and my shoes were caked with dirt. We must’ve walked ten frigging miles through the farmland south of Immokalee Road and Everglades Boulevard. Why anyone thought Phil would be out here was a mystery to me. I played my part, calling his name out every couple of minutes, but I knew it was futile. It was a drag and I had to keep reminding myself of the quote by Kaplan: “If I am right about the big picture, I will be rewarded for my patience.”

  I was starting to get hungry. I called Robin three times as we trudged along, ostensibly to see if anyone had any news. Though she was definitely stressed, she still sounded like a glass of sugar water. I couldn’t wait until all this was over.

  The sun was sinking, and I suggested we circle to the right and head back. I was never so happy to see the daylight dissipate into a dishwater gray as we got back in our cars. Starving, I headed back to Robin’s.

  All the search teams had come back hours ago, but there were still a dozen people at Robin’s house. Go home folks. Can’t you see she needs time to unwind? Unfortunately, her sister, Peggy, who’d driven down from Savannah, was now staying with Robin.

  They were twins, mentally speaking, but Peg was nothing to look at, though she did have some money. I figured she’d be around for four, five days max, as she had a big job running a chain of hospitals. Robin said the two of them were no longer close, but blood is thick, so I needed to keep my distance.

  We used to go to this Chinese joint—Robin loved their moo shu pork. I knew she’d appreciate it, so I ordered that and a couple of other dishes. The food broke the tension, but as much as I hated to, I knew I had to leave before the others did.

  Chapter 5

  Luca

  Heading back on US 41, the radio barked, shoving Robin’s shapely image out of my head. Another code 38 in Golden Gate. A car was on the way, but the desk wasn’t sure if this domestic disturbance involved a hostage situation and asked for any unit in the area to respond.

  The Coastland Mall was in sight. I threw the strobe light on and hit the gas pedal. As I sped onto the overpass I saw a marked car, lights blazing, on Airport Pulling. He made up ground and was only a half mile behind me as I turned onto Coronado Parkway. By the time I made a right onto Tropical Way he was glued to my bumper.

  I slid into a space behind two other marked cars in front of 16715 Tropical, which I quickly valued at well under three hundred K. As I hopped out I saw between houses the traffic whizzing by on Santa Barbara Boulevard. Two uniformed officers were straddling the front door, pleading with whoever was inside to open up.

  “Yo, Luca.”

  I turned around. It was Bill Bailey.

  “Dress rehearsal for the Indy Five Hundred?”

  “I don’t drive like no grandma when my fellow officers need me.”

  Bailey was a tad too enthusiastic of a brother in blue for me.

  “Yeah, well, if you would’ve hit a bump, or a real grandmother pulled onto the road, I’d be wondering what color suit to wear to your funeral.”

  A ruddy-faced officer who couldn’t have been more than thirty had jogged over from the front door. I introduced myself as the young bucks fist-bumped.

  “Reilly.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  Officer Reilly explained that someone he assumed was the husband answered the door and said he’d open the door but never did. Reilly asked to talk to the wife, who’d called 911, but the male claimed she was busy with the kids.

  “This guy have a name?”

  “Oh, sorry sir, Watkins, John. Caucasian, forty-two years of age.”

  “Employed?”

  “Uh, don’t know.”

  “Well find out. If this is a hostage situation we’re gonna need as much data as possible.” I headed to the door.

  There were no sidelights to sneak a peek, so I rang the bell. Twenty seconds later I hit the door twice with the heel of my hand. A smoker’s voice responded, “What do you want?”

  “Just want to make sure everyone’s all right.”

  “Everything’s okay. There’s no problem.”

  “I’m gonna need to see for myself.”

  “Why? I want my privacy.”

  “I understand, sir. However, it seems your wife called nine-one-one saying she felt threatened.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  I raised my voice a couple of notches. “I’m gonna ask one more time. Open the door, or I’ll have it rammed open.”

  “Leave us alone.”

  I was about to threaten him when a sharp pain hit my abdomen. I hunched over for a second.

  Reilly came up behind me. “You okay, Luca?”

  “Yeah, got some gas pains. Gotta stay away from that Mexican food.”

  Reilly told me Watkins had just started a new job working nights at FedEx and asked if he should call for backup. I told him to hang on a minute and pounded the door again.

  “I told you everything is okay, so leave us alone.”

  “Look, let’s not make this into something you’re going to regret. There’s no reason to let FedEx know the cops are at your house, right?”

  “Hey, don’t play with my job, man. I need that.”

  “You’re in control. You open, there’s no reason to let FedEx know you had a spat with your woman.”

  The lock clicked and the door opened six inches. I wedged my foot in, nearly crushing Watkins’ barefoot toes. Watkins was a skinny turd of a guy. Day-old stubble and what looked like a dove tattooed on his neck.

  “See, there’s nothing going on, so why don’t you just leave us alone?”

  “I’d like to see the missus.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, she’s the one who made the complaint.”

  He lowered his voice and opened the door another six inches. “She gets a little carried away from time to time. You know what I mean?”

  As I said, “I sure do,” I pulled the door open.

  “Step outside, Mr. Watkins.”

  “This is my house. You can’t force me out of my own damn house.”

  “Reilly, would you and Bailey arrest this gentleman for failing to obey a police order?”

  “All right, all right. Can I put on shoes first?”

  “Outside, Watkins. Now.”

  I stepped into the house and called out, “Mrs. Watkins? Detective Luca here. Can we have a word with you?”

  The door to the bedroom slowly opened and a red-headed woman of about forty walked into the family room. She’d been crying. I followed her, thinking she probably made a great apple pie. Broken glass had been swept into a pile, and a broom rested against the couch.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “How about the children?”

  “They’re both at school.”

  “What happened that made you call nine-one-one?”

  “I shouldn’t have called. It was a mistake. I don’t want John to get in trouble. He didn’t really do anything.”

  I rubbed my gut, man was it sore. “Take it easy. Let’s see if we can settle this among ourselves. Okay?”

  She brightened.

  “It was really kinda nothing. John had gotten in from work at about five a.m. He needs to settle down. He can’t go right to sleep, it’s like his rhythm is off from working nights.”

  I no
dded.

  “He was watching TV, like he always does, but it was kinda loud, so I got up and asked him to lower it.”

  “Did he?”

  She frowned. “He was being spiteful and raised it. So, I got a little bit mad. I didn’t want the kids to wake up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I pulled the cable box plug out.”

  “And?”

  “Well, he, you know, got upset. I shouldn’t have done it. It takes too long for the cable to boot back up.”

  “Did he get physical with you?”

  She looked at her feet. “No, not really.”

  “It’s okay, you can tell me what happened. Nothing’s gonna happen to John.”

  “It was nothing, really. He got up and plugged it back in, and I tried to unplug it, and we both went for the plug at the same time, you know, and we banged into each other and I lost my balance and banged into the table and the vase fell over.” She gazed at the glass pile and teared up.

  “It’s okay. What happened next?”

  She sniffled. “That vase was my mom’s. She gave it to me. It’s the only thing of hers I have. When it fell I got really mad, but it’s all my fault.”

  “But when you called nine-one-one, you said you were threatened, afraid, for you and the kids.”

  “The kids got up and they, they were crying because we were arguing. So, I put them back to bed and stayed in my daughter’s room till it was time for them to go to school.”

  “The kids went to school, then what?”

  “Well, I was really angry about the vase, and he was sleeping, and I know it was stupid but I put the TV on real loud. It was stupid. I don’t know why I did it. It was childish, but I wanted to get back at him.”

  “Go on.”

  “So, he woke up and started yelling. He was right, he needed his rest and all. I don’t know what got into me, but I put the volume all the way up. He came flying out of the bedroom and he was cursing and chased me. I ran into the bathroom and he was banging on the door. I told him I was gonna call the police and he said to go ahead.” She shrugged. “So, I did.”

  “Did he lay a hand on you?”

  “No, no.”

  “The kids?”

  “John would never do that.”

  “Did he push you into the table?”

  “No, like I said, we both kinda collided.”

  “Do you want me to run him into the station, you know, to cool him off a bit?”

  “No, he’s cooled down. I mean he was mad I called, and he’s right, it was stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Nine-one-one is not a game, ma’am, but by all means, if you feel there’s a danger to you or the children please don’t hesitate to call.”

  She nodded.

  “Stay here a minute. I’m gonna talk to your husband.”

  John Watkins had bummed a smoke from Bailey and was leaning on the entrance column.

  “What do you say you open the garage?”

  “Open the garage? What do you think you’ll find there? Bodies?”

  “Unless you want the neighbors to see you get in the back of a police car, I’d say we have a little talk out of their view.”

  Watkins punched in a code and the garage door lifted, revealing a lawn mower, an assortment of bicycles, and plastic kids’ furniture.

  “So why don’t you tell me why the county’s got three law enforcement officers here?”

  His story didn’t vary too much from his wife’s, except when it came to the vase. He said he knocked into it by accident, but I knew he broke it on purpose. It was stupid and vengeful but a heck of a lot better than knocking your wife around.

  “You know, John, I’m not one to be advising anyone on marriage, but one thing I can tell you is it ain’t gonna get easier if you don’t respect the things your wife holds dear to her. Wake up, you broke the only thing her mom left her.”

  “No, I didn’t. It was an accident.”

  As I threw a palm up, my belly pain sharpened.

  “Look, go in there and make up with your wife. Buy her something she likes to replace the vase. Surprise her with something.”

  He nodded like a bobblehead doll.

  “Go ahead and make up before your kids get out of school.”

  “Thanks.”

  My pain receded, and as he headed for the door I said, “Hey, John, you like pie?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “I guess apple or blueberry.”

  “Does your wife bake?”

  “Oh yeah, she’s a great baker.”

  I smiled and left.

  ***

  As I came up to Goodlette-Frank Road I remembered that Ron Vespo, one of the guys Phil’s buddy Dom gave me, lived in Calusa Bay. I radioed in for the guy’s telephone number and told Vespo I’d be dropping by.

  Calusa Bay was a sky-blue collection of older coach homes in a primo location. Based on the location, I thought the units should trade for more than the two fifty to three hundred they were going for. I’d been thinking over the idea that it could be worth picking one up as an investment.

  Vespo lived in a second-floor unit overlooking the clubhouse. I could hear kids playing Marco Polo in the pool as I hit the doorbell.

  Glancing through the sidelight, I saw Vespo tucking his shirt in like a good boy as he approached.

  Flashing my creds, I said, “Thanks for seeing me on short notice.”

  “No problem, Officer. Anything I can do to help Phil. This is scary, him just vanishing.”

  The apartment’s furnishings were dated, and there were two credenzas crowded with sports trophies, mostly baseball.

  “I understand Phil’s done this before.”

  Vespo tilted his head as I clarified. “A couple of other contacts said Phil has taken off before, shacking up with a woman or two.”

  “Oh yeah, everyone knew he liked to screw around, but never for more than a couple of days, and he’d usually give some bullshit story to his wife.”

  “Robin?”

  He smiled. “She’s a piece of art, ain’t she?”

  I felt myself nodding and said, “So how long have you known Mr. Gabelli, and what’s the nature of your relationship?”

  Vespo told me he’d met Phil at the dog track in Bonita about seven or eight years ago through one Antonio Depas, who was a mutual friend. Vespo said Phil came to the track regularly, a lot of times with a different gal on his arm.

  This was a side of Gabelli I hadn’t heard. I dug in a bit. “What size wagers did Gabelli place?”

  He shrugged. “No more than everyone else we hung with.”

  “What’s a normal bet for your crowd?”

  “I donno, about a hundred a race.”

  “That’s a lot from where I come from. A guy could lose a grand in a day.”

  “Nah, you gotta hit something out of twelve races. Besides, we’re pretty good at this.”

  Yeah, so good at gambling your couch is older than my grandmother, I thought.

  “How often did Phil go to the track?”

  “A couple of times a week.”

  “Sounds like a lot for a guy with a regular job.”

  Vespo shrugged. “He wouldn’t be there all day. He would pop in, lay down some bets, and take off.”

  “He didn’t watch?”

  “Just one or maybe two.”

  “Sounds like he should’ve just called it in to his bookie.”

  Vespo’s eyes narrowed but he remained silent. There was something there. I said, “Look, the last thing I wanna get involved with is chasing some bookie down. So, did Phil have a bookie?”

  “He did, and a year maybe two years ago he got in a jam with him.”

  “Jam?”

  “He had a bad streak of luck, that’s all.”

  “Phil was making bets on the side and got in over his head?”

  Vespo nodded.

  “How did he climb out of the jam?”


  “What do you think? His wife’s loaded.”

  “Is there anything Phil’s done that’s unusual, you know, anything, like odd behavior or something secretive?”

  “Nah, not really, he’s pretty straight.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, the only thing that was weird, was like over a year ago. You see, when us guys are at the track we always check the racing form and we decide on how much we’re betting and on what puppy. Then one of us goes to the window and buys all the tickets for everybody.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, this one day, it was a Saturday, I remember because he was there the whole time. Anyway, he kept saying he had to go to the bathroom like almost before every race. So, we were ragging on him about his prostrate. Anyway, before one race he said he was going to take a leak and left. But when I went to get a brew, I saw him at one of the windows laying down more bets.”

  “Did you confront him?”

  “It ain’t my place. I’m not his father.”

  We talked some more but there was nothing else that stood out aside from Phil looking like he’d been bitten by the gambling bug. I got the name of the bookie these guys used, it was one I knew, along with the contact info for Antonio Depas before I got back in the car.

  Chapter 6

  Stewart

  “Achievement results from work realizing ambition. – Adam Ant

  Three long, exhausting days of combing Collier and parts of Lee County helped to drain the emotion out of Robin. It was sad, and I kinda felt bad she was so desperate, but she needed the reality check. In another positive development, her sister was finally getting out of Dodge. I knew getting things back to normal, as quickly as possible, was the answer.

  Two days later, the sheriff’s office told Robin they were following leads but offered zero evidence there was anything strong. Though initially depressing for her, I thought it helped. Things continued to settle down until Robin and her preacher friend, who I think had eyes on her, organized a night vigil.

  I wasn’t too happy about it, as she had moved from distraught to regaining her footing somewhat. My concern, besides the preacher man, was she’d get all emotional again and take a step back. How could things ever get back to normal if she was always a basket case?

  It took me a good half hour before deciding on dark gray slacks and an off-white shirt. No rain was in the forecast, so it seemed safe to wear my new Gucci loafers. They were a splurge I couldn’t afford, but they looked sweet.

 

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