Moonlight Dance Academy (Hotshot Book 5)

by Mike Faricy

  Not only would she not have to get out of bed. She wouldn’t even have to wake up. The perfect night, dinner, a back rub, make love, and then the entire bed to herself for the rest of the night. Hub not hanging around in the morning worked rather well, too. She could be a slob, slurp coffee, leave a mess in her passing, and not feel the least bit self-conscious.

  She had read and reread the file she typed. She thought a lot of the names looked familiar. Could it be that, on her own, as the clerk typist for the County Sheriff, she had discovered the elusive common denominator, the Moonlight Dance Academy? She suddenly wondered if maybe that was why a certain painter was always arriving late.

  As Hub tiptoed out later that night, she slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt. She drove over to Hub’s place to see if he actually went home. She was momentarily blinded by an old Buick Rivera leaving Hub’s parking lot.

  She cruised past his pickup, feeling more ridiculous by the minute, glancing up at his darkened apartment where he was, no doubt, sound asleep. What had she been thinking? She was tired, feeling stupid, and had wasted a precious hour of sleep by the time she drove back home.

  Chapter 37

  Willy hobbled along the bay walk. He had his first court appearance in two weeks. Following the leg surgery, he had been remanded to the custody of the county jail for twenty-eight days. Fortunately, he was just enough of a pain-in-the-ass patient that the county didn’t want him a day longer. They also figured he was a pretty safe flight risk. After all, where was he going to go in this condition?

  With the violation of his restraining order, the assaulting a police officer charge, breaking and entering, he had a few problems on his plate. The use of a firearm by a convicted felon, he knew he could beat that charge. The attempted murder, he could beat that one, too, plead it down in a heartbeat if not get it completely dismissed.

  He figured, with his priors, he might very possibly be looking at ten to fifteen, maybe only do seven years with good behavior. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t about to serve one damned day.

  He was going to find out where Macey’s new love lived, just wait for the right time, then educate that fool as well. He was ready to leave the park bench, saw what was coming, and waited until the terror passed. There were two of them, nine maybe ten years old, racing on scooters, those damn shiny chrome things with the little pink wheels. The little shits, not paying attention to anyone or anything, just raising hell on the street. Screaming down the walking path, why couldn’t they be more careful? Why didn’t they ride in the street? If some kid ran into Willy, he’d be back in County General faster than you could blink.

  He let them pass. Let them roll a good block beyond him until they were finally out of sight. Once they were well out of sight, he began his hobble home. The cast had come off his forearm. Though painful, he was now walking close to two miles a day. Not quickly, but two miles nonetheless. He used the constant pain to help him focus on what he was going to do to Macey and her friend.

  He promised himself the pain he felt was nothing compared to what he would deliver as payback when the time came. That payback time would be soon. The certain urgency was he had to deal with this before his court date arrived. Take care of matters so he would never face a day in court.

  He slumped down in the driver’s seat that night and watched as Hub parked in front of Macey’s and walked inside. That used to be him going up there, having her give him a special night of whatever he was in the mood for. He wanted to sneak in, tie her friend up, and make the bastard watch him and Macey go at it.

  He kept that plan under wraps for now. He gently rubbed his leg, still tender to the touch after almost two months. It was stiff in the morning before it began to throb for the rest of the day. That stupid doctor had told him it would heal in about four weeks. It had been eight weeks and counting, and it still hurt.

  He would keep his cool. He’d waited the previous three nights, hoping this fool would show up. Now, he could sit tight, follow the fool home, and learn where he lived. He’d figure out how best to get him, how best to give him something he could carry to his grave. Take him out of the picture then turn all his attention to sweet little Macey.

  It was close to midnight. Willy figured he was only good for maybe another half-hour. He’d go back to his room, set his alarm, come back here early in the morning. Catch the guy tiptoeing out before Macey left for work. Willy was rubbing his tired eyes, just about to pack it up, when suddenly Macey’s porch light flashed on.

  Sitting upright, he rubbed the tired from his eyes and watched the guy climb into his pickup and drive off. He considered rushing into Macey’s, kicking in the front door and strangle her. Instead, he followed with his lights off until he reached the end of the block, keeping a distance behind the pickup.

  Hub was sleepy, and he yawned repeatedly, blinking and rubbing his face as he drove home. He had dozed off a bit at Macey’s. Maybe it was the four beers, the sex, or maybe he was just tired. They talked all night. It was so easy with her, talking about everything and nothing.

  Willy followed the pickup. He watched as it pulled into the parking lot. Watched as the guy climbed the stairs and entered the second-floor apartment. He saw the light come on behind drawn curtains.

  He had a couple of different thoughts, both of which ended with the guy being thrown off the second floor and impaled on the wrought iron fence below. He wished the apartment was another floor up, just that much farther for the guy to fall, screaming as he dropped onto the fence. It would take a little time, and that was all Willy had, a little time.

  Chapter 38

  Hub rolled into bed, pulled the covers up to stay warm while his air conditioning roared. He was tired, but his mind kept drifting back to Val. Maybe he would just sit down with Val tomorrow and tell him he wanted out. Eventually, he decided they would talk tomorrow. Once he made that decision, he rolled over and slept better than he had in weeks.

  They met for lunch at the Crow’s Nest. Val mentioned a long list of new potential targets, hoping to spur Hub into some kind of action. “Hub, you don’t want to spend the rest of your days doing sucker work. Do you?”

  Hub thought a moment and said, “You know, Val, yeah, I do. I want to spend it doing sucker work, as you call it. It pays a lot better than doing five to ten, compliments of the Florida State Department of Corrections. I’m the guy who almost got nailed. Wouldn’t that be entertaining for everyone behind bars? Not only was I caught by a woman. I was caught by a naked woman.”

  “Tell me you’re kidding. How in the hell do you expect to live? You think you’re gonna be able to do this painting for another twenty-five years? This angle we’ve been working, we can’t stop doing it now. Everything is going our way.”

  “Everything isn’t working our way. I almost got caught. And by the way, in case you forgot, there’s someone looking for us very hard up in Atlanta. And it’s not because they want to wish us well. It’s because of what happened in Atlanta that you’re only getting about ten cents on the dollar for anything you try to sell up there.”

  “Now hold on a minute, Hub.”

  “Val, have you even looked at setting up anything in New Orleans? Mobile? Anywhere? Have you looked at any other city? Let me answer for you. No, you haven’t. That’s okay, not a problem with me, Val. But then you can’t expect me to get all excited about going back into another place and taking the risk that I just might get caught. Look, we aren’t making the money we were before, and that makes it too risky for my tastes.”

  “But, Hub, we got all these new people coming down here for the winter season. It will be months before anyone could even guess their stuff is missing.”

  Hub shook his head and said, “The problem isn’t if they find out something’s missing. That’s the least of our problems. Even if I get this stuff, you can’t get anywhere near the price we’d like. I’m not saying you’re doing a bad job. I’m just telling you again that those folks up in Atlanta are no longer paying top dollar. C
ome on, Val. No one is paying what we need for this stuff. And I don’t want to risk my neck for spare change. It’s just as simple as that.”

  Hub took a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table. “I think we should quit while we’re both ahead. Look, I gotta fly and get this kitchen painted today. I’ll see you at the Moonlight tonight. You take it easy and think about what we talked about.”

  Val watched him walk away. He thought he would never see the day, couldn’t believe Hub would do this. Then he wondered, did he know he was really only getting 30 percent?

  Hub was cleaned up and on the dance floor early that night. Macey was nowhere to be seen. They were down to an unspoken routine. A general understanding that they would meet Tuesday and Thursday nights at the Moonlight. After dancing, they’d go for coffee. Friday and Saturday nights, they were out to dinner. Hub drove, bought dinner, and spent the night at Macey’s.

  The business side of the Moonlight had started strong for Val and just kept growing. Now, with his reputation as a Regional Swing Finalist, tonight looked to be more of the same. He was working the dance floor in his usual manner along with two assistant instructors. The instructors gave subtle pointers, but it was Val who did all the talking, flooding the dance floor with his gracious comments, thanking all the dancers.

  Hub was enjoying himself. He wasn’t dancing. He was only comfortable dancing with Macey. When he wasn’t dancing with Macey, he was content just to lean against the wall and watch other people. Macey arrived an hour later, more than a little surprised to see Hub already there.

  “Hey, what are you doing here so early?” she asked, already moving her feet, watching the couples glide around the floor, wondering if her thoughts about him being a burglar were as insane as they sounded.

  As she dragged him onto the dance floor, she asked again, “How come you’re here so early?”

  The reason he was here so early was because he wasn’t running around duplicating pilfered keys, burglarizing homes, or hiding stolen goods in his pickup. That was also why he probably felt exceptionally well tonight, no stress, very relaxed, completely at ease with himself, with Macey, with the world.

  “I’m just happy to see you.”

  “Have you been practicing? You’re really good tonight. You just, I don’t know, somehow you feel smoother. You’ve actually got the beat,” she said.

  “Relax, don’t get your hopes up. It’s probably just this song. Let’s see, where are they? Oh,” he said and intentionally stepped lightly on her right foot. “There, don’t worry, back to normal.”

  He didn’t find her feet, let alone stomp on them, for the entire night, and he had her out on the dance floor for the better part of the night. Then, just in case she wasn’t too surprised already, he asked her to follow him home to his apartment.

  He made her a late dinner or an early breakfast, scrambled eggs and sausage, washed down with Bailey’s Irish Cream purchased especially for the occasion. Not exactly the combination Macey would have chosen, but it was a very sweet thought.

  He poured Macey another tumbler of Bailey’s over ice. He dished up a plate of eggs large enough to feed six people, fenced in the mound of scrambled eggs with four fat sausages, and sat back to watch her eat. Macey rolled home about 4:00 in the morning. She grabbed some Pepto Bismol from the medicine cabinet and reminded herself that, from now on, she preferred he spent the night at her place.

  Chapter 39

  Driving back from yet another task force meeting, Macey and Carlos felt like celebrating. After all this time, they were finished, completed, done. The meeting had been two and a half hours of rah-rah presentations of how the mere pressure from the Tampa department had apparently brought the burglaries to a standstill. Apparently, being the operative word here, since to date there was not one concrete lead, not one shred of concrete prosecutable evidence.

  “That is, presuming there was any evidence to begin with,” Carlos said as Macey drove. “We sit there and still, even after today, after six, I forget, was it weeks or years? We still do not have a solid lead. Hell, we aren’t even sure we have a solid crime anywhere. It’s been nothing but that vague bullshit stuff.”

  He used his version of a Northeast accent. “I don’t know. Maybe I left my rings and silver back in Newark. What do you think? Should I call my sister in Jersey? Then, you gotta poke her husband with a stick, just to see if he’s even awake.”

  “Oh, stop,” laughed Macey. “What, you don’t believe there was something going on here? You don’t think any of these folks were robbed?”

  “Yeah, I think something was going on. But I don’t know that it was robbery,” said Carlos. “It may be as simple as a bunch of folks who can’t remember who they gave stuff to. You hear about the mob mentality or a group psychosis sort of thing. What if it became a keeping up with the Jones’s deal?” He went back to the North East accent. “Well, your rings weren’t as nice as the ones I’m missing. My silver had been in the family for years. We got it from my late husband’s grandmother’s mother-in-law.”

  “Hey, by the way. Did all these women kill off their husbands? They’re down here alone, living it up after the old man worked himself to death. They probably killed the old man by inches, one nag at a time.”

  “Stop babbling,” Macey said and shot him a look.

  “You know, Macey, what if this was all an insurance scam?”

  “An insurance scam? This isn’t the way you would go about—”

  “Oh yeah, just think about it for a minute. Now, don’t interrupt, think about it, Macey.” Carlos tried to put it together, though it seemed to be making even less sense to him as he said it aloud.

  “Now all these folks, they’re largely down here for the season.” He caught Macey’s sideways glance. “They report a couple of grand worth of stuff gone and bingo! Free winter month in Florida. Compliments of their homeowners insurance. What do you think? I’m on to something, right?”

  “No. You’re not onto anything here, Carlos. That’s the dumbest— Look, the only thing you’re onto here with that theory is too much medication. That’s one of your dumber ideas, ever.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, you have to admit it’s no dumber than the original idea that had us getting involved to begin with. I mean, come on, we think there’s a crime wave, but we can’t be sure. It might be all over the Tampa area, covering all economic classes, never taking too much, leaving no apparent trail. I mean, Macey, do you realize, in the course of close to, what, one hundred supposed burglaries?”

  “One hundred plus,” Macey added.

  “Even better. In all of those supposed burglaries, we haven’t recovered one stolen item that was fenced, not one hint of anything melted down. Nothing’s turned up on the market. Nothing found in some random vehicle search. Why? Because I don’t think there ever were any burglaries. I think it was a group mentality kind of thing. The reason nothing was ever found is because nothing was ever stolen. Now wait, just wait,” Carlos said in response to Macey opening her mouth.

  “Let’s say I’m wrong on the insurance thing. Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s not some giant insurance scam. Let’s agree that’s not it. But all the same, somehow these people heard about someone being robbed, and the next thing you know, they start to think they were robbed, too. We can’t put them together anywhere. They weren’t all at the same wedding. They don’t all shop at the same store. Some work, some are retired, some have kids, some don’t, different locations, income levels, ages, married, single, divorced. It doesn’t add up. There is no common denominator, is all I’m saying. And, if it doesn’t add up, well then, maybe it never happened. It’s at least plausible. You gotta give me that.”

  “Carlos,” Macey said, “other than the standard profile sheets, did anyone ever do an in-depth interview with these folks? I mean, because they gave a report that was vague by nature, maybe there wasn’t the follow-through that we would normally have.”

  “How or what can we check?” he as
ked. “If they’re not even sure they were robbed, it’s not like we can get a time and place from them, let alone any description. Crime scene? Hell, we don’t even know if there was a crime.”

  “So what if no one really checked beyond that? Remember when you asked about house cleaners and they laughed you out of the room? What if that was right, or a church or a health spa or something? Some sort of tie-in like that.”

  “Okay, I agree, I’m brilliant. But that sort of goes right back to my original theory. What if there is a common tie, and that’s the place where all these otherwise unrelated women get the idea that, if she was robbed, so was I?”

  “Maybe that’s part of it, Carlos. You said ‘she.’ Just women.”

  “Yeah, thanks for your help there, Sherlock. But in case you didn’t read the reports you were typing, that is something that was checked on. There were couples who filed reports as well as individual women,” Carlos said.

  Yeah, nothing there, thought Macey, no common denominators, except maybe Hub Sheppard and the Moonlight Dance Academy. She didn’t plan on mentioning that to Carlos or anyone else for that matter.

  “The good news, Macey, my little fun-filled taco, is that you and I have just concluded our last meeting on this nonsense. Think of the money we’ll save on Excedrin. All that’s left to do is for you to write up our report. We both sign it and drop it on the old man’s desk. Then hope to God this task force is never, ever, convened again.”

  “I write up the report?” Macey looked at him. “Why would I write it up? You’re the investigator. I’m just staff, and what do you mean, ‘fun-filled taco’?”

  “Hey, come on, Mace. It’s our anniversary. I’m taking Julie out to dinner. I’ve got a sitter all lined up. It’s already been seven wonderful years. Come on, a night of not cooking, not doing dishes, just a little romance, the little wife and I, no kids allowed,” he pleaded.