Chapter 33
Luca
I turned off Industrial Way onto Domestic and made a right into the parking lot of a typical Floridian building built in the nineties. Tossing my police pass onto the dashboard, I headed in to see the county medical examiner.
A Virginian, Dr. Bosco had come down to Naples fifteen years ago, about a dozen years before I joined the Collier County Sheriff’s department. The Collier position was an easier gig than working in D.C., where there was no shortage of suspicious deaths, and it allowed Bosco to get plenty of tee time.
The building housed three autopsy suites. The main suite had space for three autopsies, while the single suite was more private, if having your body dissected and studied could ever be considered private. The third suite was for possibly contaminated victims and those who died in fires.
Bosco led me to the solo area.
“Thanks for coming down, Frank. I thought this was going to be routine, but a couple things stood out.”
I squinted as Bosco turned up the lights. The coroner grabbed a clipboard off the stainless-steel dissection table and pulled down the sheet covering the body. Pretty boy Gabelli was nowhere to be found.
Bloated with some decay, the face was almost beyond recognition. It was a wonder Robin had ID’d it.
Blowing out a deep breath, I said, “Geez, Doc, I’ve seen my share, but I never even heard of, much less ever saw a body with adi—. How do you say it?”
“Adipocere. It’s only the second time for me, so don’t feel bad. First time I saw this was on a body they pulled out of the swampy area by the Meadowlands. After that I looked into it. There’s even a body they call the Soap Lady, at the Mutter Museum in Philly.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Sure is, and it can preserve a body for centuries.”
“Incredible.”
“Normally, there wouldn’t be much left of a body in the gulf after a week or two, so we’re kinda lucky here. The way the body was wrapped and the silt covering it created the condition for this hard, waxy substance to form.” Bosco tapped the grayish waxy substance covering Gabelli’s forehead with a probe. “As you can see, there’s some decomposition and damage from scavengers, but it’s been severely limited by the adipocere.”
“It’s bizarre. Where does it come from?”
“Essentially, it’s a conversion of the body’s fat.”
“What a way to end up.”
Bosco nodded.
“Doc, you said some things stood out.”
“First off, the victim was dead when he was put in the water.”
“I figured that, but how can you be certain?”
“There was no water in his lungs, confirming he wasn’t breathing when he was dumped in the water.”
“How much time do you think it was between death and being put in the water?”
Bosco frowned. “Virtually impossible to say, Frank. Adipocere formations limit our ability to estimate the postmortem interval with any accuracy. Temperature plays a large role, and since we don’t know when the body was put in the water, I had to use an annual average of Outer Clam Bay and came up with a range of six to nine months.”
“That’s a lot of hedging, Doc.”
“The body is displaying an advanced case of adipocere. That’s the best I can do.”
“Fair enough, Doc. What about wounds, are there any wounds?”
“No. The cause of death at this point is a massive cardiac failure.”
“A heart attack?”
“Yes, but something’s bothering me.” He checked his clipboard. “This fellow seemed to be in excellent health. No signs of heart disease, arterial condition normal for a forty-year-old male.”
“And?”
“It does happen, but it’s very rare that a healthy heart just blows out on its own.”
“Could it be drugs, like cocaine?”
“It could be. I tried to check, but see here.”
Bosco took a scalpel and used its handle to probe Gabelli’s nasal cavity.
“It’s impossible to tell if the inflammation was caused by the salt in the water or existed as a precondition.”
“Gabelli was a partier, but as far as we know, there was no history of excessive drug use.”
“I’ve seen my share of so-called casual users get carried away and end up here or, if they’re lucky, the emergency room.”
“I hear you, Doc. Can you tell me how long till you know what happened?”
“We’ll have to wait to see how the blood panels come back.”
“Okay, Doc. But keep a lid on the cause of death.”
Chapter 34
Luca
I rolled my head around and massaged the back of my neck before beginning. Spending hours looking at grainy CCTV footage would make for bad television, but it’d be nice if the networks would occasionally show the tedious, mundane side of things.
Science had the spotlight, but most crimes were solved with a solid ground game: combing a crime scene for minutia, interviewing hundreds of uninteresting people, and, like today, hunching over herky-jerky surveillance video.
Knowing the bad guys usually cased a place in advance of their nasty deeds, I’d started two weeks before Gabelli vanished. It was hard to conceal a body, and even harder to keep a kidnapping quiet, so even though chances are he was murdered close to the disappearance date, I’d requested the footage for a month after he was reported missing.
Six weeks, forty-two long days, over a thousand hours of tape to review. I’d need a chiropractor and glasses before I finished. Farming out some of it, even to Vargas, was not in the cards. My unshakable belief was you’d miss the subtleties of something out of place if you didn’t view the entire lot yourself.
The footage between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. could be viewed in fast-forward mode, saving me some time. The camera was positioned halfway in the parking lot, angled to the right, pointed toward the entrance to the boardwalk. The bad news was that a blind spot in the left-hand corner, closest to the wooded area, would slow me down. I’d have to be careful with people parking in that area, making sure they were beachgoers and not up to anything sinister.
I inserted the first DVD and hit play. Grainy, black-and-white images of cars entering the Clam Pass parking lot two weeks before Gabelli went missing came stuttering to life. I didn’t expect much, but kept my eyes out for anything unusual. You’d think anyone contemplating such a serious crime would think to blend in, but people make all kinds of stupid mistakes.
***
Four days and countless DVDs had gone by without producing the slightest suspicion in the period before Gabelli disappeared. The only thing I learned was the rhythm of Clam Pass beachgoers. It had a small parking lot, so there wasn’t a lot of in and out going on. The early crowd liked to get to the beach no later than ten, then it quieted down till around two, when about thirty percent of the early birds started leaving. Then around three thirty a late crowd would stream in, most of them staying till sunset.
I was glad I’d come to the day Gabelli could’ve been dumped in the brackish water. As I poured a cup of coffee, I remembered there was no way I’d be able to speed up the footage as much and headed to my office.
Mug of java in hand, I dropped the first ‘after’ DVD in. Nothing but sun worshippers. By the middle of the second DVD the sun began setting. As the light changed, I leaned forward. The parking lot emptied. I sped the tape up, and as the time stamp passed 11 p.m. a light-colored Honda Accord pulled into the lot. Slowing it down, I saw it was a male driving. I zoomed in but couldn’t make out if there was anyone else in the car.
I cringed as the Accord pulled into the blind zone. Was this just a lovers’ rendezvous? I studied the screen as time passed. Just after 12:40 a.m. the Honda came back into view. This time I saw a female in the passenger seat just as my pee alarm went off. I ignored it even though my eyes were stinging and hit fast-forward.
A few minutes after 5 a.m. an old van, that looked to be a Pontiac, pul
led into the lot. The van seemed cautious, moving slowly until it parked near the entrance to the boardwalk. No movement. Was this just nothing more than some horny kids?
The driver’s door swung open and I held my breath as a medium build, Caucasian male got out. The driver looked around and walked to the other side of the van and disappeared from sight. I hit the fast button, but as soon as I did he emerged, backing up as he maneuvered something.
Was this the guy? I hit pause and zoomed in on the license plate. I jotted down the number of the Florida tag, JF3974X, and hit play. What was that? The guy was steering a boat-like object on a wheeled caddy or wagon. He pulled on the handle and vanished down the boardwalk. I stopped the tape.
Was there a body hidden in the contraption? Did it look like the guy was dragging the 170 pounds that Gabelli was? If not, what the hell could this guy be doing at that time of the night? The warning to relieve myself sounded again but I snoozed it. I had to see what happened with this guy and sped the tape up.
The time stamp crossed 7 a.m. and the first of the day’s visitors arrived. They were one of several beach walkers who trickled into the lot. This guy was gone for two hours already. Would it take that long to dump a body? That’s a lot of time. Maybe he ran into somebody and had to delay dropping Gabelli near the mangroves. As I tossed the idea around, he came into view towing his boat.
Did it seem lighter? Did it look different? I moved inches away from the screen as he disappeared at the van’s side. Recall Luca, recall.
As a pair of bikers cycled to the bike rack, he emerged and got back in the driver’s seat. Before the van pulled out of the lot I picked up the phone, called the plate in, and headed to take a leak.
Chapter 35
Luca
I stared at the DMV photo of Richard Blake. The thirty-five-year-old didn’t have a record. Curly headed, the license put him at six foot and a hundred and sixty pounds. A Pontiac Montana van was registered in his name at 1099 Barcamil Way. Checking the address, it turned out to be in Colliers Reserve, an older neighborhood known as a full-time haven, which was weird, as I never knew anyone who lived there. I had heard there weren’t any condos there, and the fact Blake was collecting unemployment didn’t add up. It would have been nice to go see him with Vargas, but she was due in court, and this couldn’t wait.
Colliers Reserve had a different feel. The streets were lined with mature trees, but they weren’t tropical types. It felt like I was driving in Georgia or someplace like that. The home at 1099 Barcamil Way was another two-tone, white and beige home about twenty years old. Its vegetation was overgrown, like all the others on the block. I wondered if the owners realized it was jungly or if it’d happened so slowly they got used to the crowded look. The house was worth a million or 1.1 at most, in my opinion. Anybody buying this home would have to dump a boatload of updates into it.
Blake’s face had the healthy, weathered look of a surfer. He looked like an athlete and was surprised to see me. Blake quickly ran a hand through his sandy hair to neaten it when I introduced myself.
“What’s this about, the robbery at the casino?”
Casino? The Seminole Casino Gabelli used to frequent? “Maybe. What do you know about it?”
“Not much. I was dealing blackjack in the back by the baccarat section when it happened.”
“You work at the Seminole Casino in Immokalee, right?”
He nodded. “For about seven years now. I thought that was why you’re here.”
“I’m here about Phil Gabelli.” Blake blinked but other than that there wasn’t a tell. “You know him?”
“Gabelli? Can’t say it rings a bell.”
What was this guy, a lawyer? “You were observed in the early morning of May first at Clam Pass. Can you tell me what you were doing there?”
He pulled his chin in. “Observed? You had someone watching me back in May?”
“Security cameras at Clam Pass filmed you. What were you doing there?”
“Who remembers that far back? But it’s a public park. I have every right to be there.”
“Look, we can do this the easy way, or I can drag you to the station and we can talk there. Either way you want to do it is fine by me.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure I just went out for a sail.”
It was a boat. “Sailing before dawn?”
“I work the night shift, and a lot of times I can’t sleep.”
“So, you drag your little Sunfish out and go sailing in the dark?”
“If you knew how beautiful it was when you’re on the water when the sun comes up, you wouldn’t be so smug.”
“How long do you go out for?”
“Depends, but usually two, three hours.”
“You take a lot of things out with you?”
Blake stared at me. Did I hit a nerve?
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you take out on the water with you?”
“Not much, something to eat.”
“You just sit there in the dark?”
“It's peaceful out there. I just think. It’s a form of meditating.”
“I guess you might need it after working in a casino all night.”
He nodded. “It can be chaotic.”
“You’ve always been a blackjack dealer?”
“The last five years or so.”
“Lots of regulars, I bet.”
He shook his head. “Too many, if you ask me.”
“So, you must know Phil Gabelli then.”
“What does he look like?”
I pulled out a picture and handed it to Blake.
“Maybe.”
Another hedge. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“You know how many people play each day?”
“Surely you must know I can get a court order and check the casino’s surveillance.”
“But the casino is on Seminole territory. They have their own police.”
So that was his angle. “Let’s say we have a memorandum of understanding. Now, how well do you know Phil Gabelli?”
“If it’s the same guy I’m thinking, he came in about once a week or so.”
“Once a week, over five years, you’d get to know a guy.”
“You know how many tables of blackjack we have?”
I did. It wasn’t many. “Was he a good player?”
“I don’t remember.”
Blake kept dancing around for fifteen minutes. I knew he was hiding something, but I moved on.
“You know, I always wanted to learn how to sail.”
“You should try it. It’s very relaxing.”
“Is the Sunfish a good boat?”
“It’s pretty nice, but the best thing about it is it’s mobile.”
“Sounds perfect. Hey, would you mind showing me yours?”
“I’d love to, but I sold it.”
“Interesting. When was that?”
“What’s so interesting about that?”
“You just said it was a good little boat, and here you go and sell it.”
“I’m getting something bigger, if that’s all right with you.”
“When did you get rid of it?”
“I sold it about ten days ago.”
“Like I said, I’m interested in learning to sail. Who’d you sell it to?”
Chapter 36
Luca
It was only five-forty, but I got out of bed knowing I’d never fall back to sleep after an unsettling dream about Vargas. Well, at least it wasn’t another Barrow-case nightmare. I was anxious to follow up on Blake and his boat, but I was due in court at nine. The Russian car theft ring trial had been postponed, waiting on my testimony, and was finally on the calendar. With almost two hours to kill, I decided to take a walk on the beach to get some physical and mental exercise in.
As my feet hit the sand by the Turtle Club, the day I met Kayla hit me with mixed emotions. I’d had Kayla’s number for two weeks now and hadn’t called her yet. I didn’t know w
hat was fueling the procrastination, my lingering, male plumbing issue, or the fear she wouldn’t prove to be as interested as I seemed to be. It was getting stupid, I thought, and right there and then I resolved to call her that night.
***
Blake’s story on the Sunfish checked out. The guy down at Lowe’s Marina confirmed he bought Blake’s boat two weeks ago. It was still on his lot, and I asked him to take it off the market and move it indoors. He objected, but when I told him it would only be for a week or so, he agreed and took me to see the craft.
I walked around the white fiberglass skiff. Peering into a kayak-like opening, I noted it accommodated a sailor’s legs. There weren’t any signs of blood, but I wasn’t expecting any. I spied a back support that covered a small storage area. When it was removed it increased the size of the cavity. It’d be a tight fit to sneak a man the size of Gabelli into it, but it wasn’t impossible.
Staring at the boat, I tried to visualize how it looked now versus the night Blake was at Clam Pass. After a minute of imagining, I took some pictures and made sure the sales guy removed the For Sale sign before heading to Immokalee.
***
Leaving the casino, I was feeling good about my persistence on Blake and his job. Rather than giving up when his fellow dealers gave me nothing, I moved on to a couple of cocktail waitresses and hit pay dirt with one of them. In all honesty, it was the natural angle, given the playboy Gabelli was, but it still provided a needed boost to my confidence.
Nancy, a big-boned server, never would have made it past the first interview in the old days. According to an unspoken code, that also guided stewardesses, Nancy didn’t have it in the looks department. The brunette, who served drinks in the blackjack section, had so many piercings she looked like she’d fallen into a tackle box.
The one that got me was the tongue piercing. Every time she opened her mouth I wondered if the ornamentation was painful. No matter how much anyone drank, you had to be deranged to think it was sexy. Anyway, she knew Gabelli right off the bat and said he was hot. I refrained from telling her more because I don’t like to talk about the dead.
I asked her what she could tell me about Gabelli, but other than being a flirt and a big tipper there was nothing revealing. That is until I asked about Blake and him, then gold flowed out of her ornamented mouth. I was so excited I almost forgot to ask about Stewart. The cocktail waitress said he rarely came in with Stewart, which I found surprising.
Luca Mystery Series Box Set Page 33