Bargain Hunting (31 page)

She nodded.

“Then why,” I asked gently, “did you divorce?”

“José decided he didn’t want to be married anymore. I
wanted us to go to counseling at the church, but he wouldn’t go.”

“When was that?”

She sighed heavily. “About six years ago, a little while after we found out Mama was sick.”

“But you saw him regularly?” I asked.

Again she nodded. “He takes the kids when he isn’t working weekends and he always paid his child support and gave me the envelope.”

“What envelope?” I pressed.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” she said. “Southern Allied paid him in cash, under the table. The only thing he ever asked of me was that I pay in cash for all of Mama’s expenses. I honored his wishes. Now I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Did José have life insurance?”

“He bought a policy when we were divorced. It’s enough to put our children through college, but that’s all.”

“You have two children?” I asked, remembering my research.

“A boy, eight, and a girl about to turn seven. They’re in school now.”

“What school?”

“St. Mary’s. José wanted them to have a good Catholic education. Now that he’s gone I’m not sure if I can make that happen.”

“A lot of Catholic schools have scholarship programs,” I suggested. “I’m sure they’d be willing to work with you.”

“That would be a relief.” She got up and asked if either of us would care for a drink. We both declined. “You haven’t told me why you are so curious about José.”

“We want to find his killer,” I told her as I brushed my hair away from my face.

“But why?” she pushed.

“My firm represents Mr. McGarrity. Now that he’s been cleared, we’d like to do everything in our power to find the real killer.”

“When Liam was arrested I was surprised. José was very protective of him.”

“How so?”

She took a sip of water. “He never wanted me to let Liam know about his other job. José knew Liam would have to turn him in if the department ever found out he was working an under-the-table job.”

“Do you know if any of the other men José worked with also worked at Southern Allied?”

“I think so. But José never said who and I didn’t ask. I was just grateful that he made it possible for me to keep Mama at home.”

I stood up. “We’ve taken up enough of your time,” I said. “Thank you for speaking with us.”

“Tell Liam I said hello and that I’m happy his troubles are over.”

“I will,” I promised.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Booker asked when we went outside.

I heard the squeal of tires but when I looked in that direction, the white sedan was already turning the corner. Probably some mother late to pick her kid up from school. “I’m thinking we may have found the right SA.”

“We should call Liam,” Booker said. I tried his number but it went directly to voice mail. “He must be in court,” I said. “Let’s go back to my place so I can see what I can dig up on this cartage company.”

Booker and I got home just after four. I instantly went to my laptop and started searching for anything on Southern Allied.

“Anything?” Booker asked impatiently as my fingers whizzed over the keyboard.

“Shell corporations. A lot of DBAs, doing business as,” I explained. “These guys are good,” I said absently as I tracked the corporations through half of Europe. “Gotcha,” I said triumphantly. “The trail ends in the Cayman Islands.”

Perry Mason barked and then the doorbell rang. Booker went to the window. “What’s the name of your alarm company?” he asked.

“Palm Beach Protection Services.”

“Your alarm guy is here.”

Booker opened the door and I heard a zapping noise; Booker crumpled in a heap on the floor. The dog lunged and then whimpered as the uniformed man shocked him with the Taser.

He looked at me with steely black eyes and said, “You can walk out or I can carry you.”

Love is giving a person the power to hurt you but trusting him not to.

I ran toward my
bedroom, reaching the nightstand. I had my hand on the gun and was stuffing it in my purse when I felt a sharp pain in my side, followed by nothingness.

My body ached when I regained consciousness. It took me several seconds to realize I was in the back of a police cruiser. I was lying across the back bench seat with my hands secured behind my back. My mouth tasted of something metallic as fear and adrenaline surged through me.

It took me a few seconds but I finally got to a sitting position. A large metal grate and thick Plexiglas separated me from the driver. I kicked the seat. Hard.

“Calm down, we’re almost there.”

Almost where? I looked out the window and realized we were speeding along Interstate 95, headed toward Riviera Beach. I had a suspicion we were going to the port. I heard
muffled pounding coming from the trunk. My first thought was Liam. Was he locked in there?

My second thought was that this was all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on going to see Ina Lopez, I wouldn’t have stirred the hornet’s nest and discovered Southern Allied. Tears filled my eyes, half from fear and half from frustration. I kicked the seat again and again, feeling completely helpless. Probably not a smart move. He could turn around and shoot me and no one would be any the wiser.

At each car we passed, I mouthed the words “Help me.” My pleas were greeted with humor from the other drivers. Of course they’d find it funny for a person in custody to be asking for help. To them I was some lowlife being carted off to jail.

The patrol car turned down a deserted road, each side stacked high with cargo containers. It was like driving through a canyon. One I probably wouldn’t come out of alive. The car stopped on gravel; I could hear the tiny pellets pinging against the undercarriage. The pounding from the trunk grew louder.

As soon as we were parked, two men came out of an aluminum warehouse. I recognized them both. One was Diego Ferrer, the other was Carlos Santiago. The driver was a mystery until he turned around and I saw his nameplate:
CALDERONE
. The one guy who had refused to come to the door.

They stood talking for a minute, then Calderone came to the back door while the other two went to the trunk. I was yanked out of the car so hard I thought he’d dislocated my shoulder in the process. I smelled diesel fuel and the briny scent of water. There wasn’t another soul in sight and the sun was starting to set.

To my surprise, the person from the trunk was Booker. His hands were secured with zip ties and he was gagged. While I was sorry that being my babysitter had gotten him into this mess, I was relieved to know it wasn’t Liam. At least he was safe.

My relief didn’t last long. I was marched into the warehouse, my footfalls echoing in the nearly empty building. There was an old wooden desk in the middle of the space. In the center of the room was a single light fixture dangling from the ceiling, and just below the lamp, Liam was tied to one of three chairs. I took one look at him and had to fight back tears. He’d been beaten. Badly. His face was swollen. His lower lip was split and blood had dripped down the front of his shirt from a cut on his cheek.

While I was walking like a zombie, Booker was struggling the whole way. It took two of them to keep the large man from gaining his freedom.

I was unceremoniously dumped into one chair, then Calderone went back outside. I thought about running, but the sight of guns tucked into the waistbands of the men holding Booker kept me in place. I scooted my chair closer to Liam. He was breathing, but unconscious.

Calderone came back with my purse and dumped the contents on top of the desk. He then placed my gun on the pile and turned to give me a sarcastic wink. “She was packing,” he told the others. They also seemed amused.

Packing? Was I in a bad Clint Eastwood film? No. This was real and Clint wasn’t coming to save the day. Santiago and Ferrer secured Booker’s ankles to the chair legs. I guess they didn’t consider me much of a threat because other than the restraints on my hands, I was left untethered.

“Liam!” I whispered loudly.

“He’s, um, napping,” Calderone said with a malevolent smile.

Pleading sounded like a good idea. “You can let us go. We won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Calderone shot back at me. “You’re real good at keeping your mouth shut.”

“I am,” I insisted. “I won’t tell anyone. Neither will they. I promise.”

“Hey, Carlos!” he called. “She promised. Think we should let her go?”

“She’ll be going, just not till the boss gets here.”

That had to be Vasquez. He was the only one left.

“At least untie my hands,” I said. They all looked at me as if I’d just spoken in tongues. “Seriously, what do you think I’ll do? There’s three of you and only one of me.”

Calderone came toward me, sticking his hand in his pocket, and when he got very, very close to my face, he pinched the hilt of his knife and a very scary blade popped up.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he warned.

I rubbed my wrists and hands as the feeling returned. Pleading wasn’t working. Time to go on the offensive. “People will miss me,” I said. “If anything happens to me, it can easily be traced back to you.”

“I don’t think so,” Calderone said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. No one will think anything of you disappearing.”

“I have a mother. I have friends. People I talk to every day. My bosses are lawyers. They’ll get suspicious.”

“I don’t think so,” he taunted again.

“But you can’t know that for sure. Booker made phone calls about you. People know Liam has been working on José’s case. None of us can disappear without raising suspicions.”

“But you can,” came a familiar voice from behind me. “Of course, none of this would have been necessary if Deputy Calderone had carried out the plan without screwing up. First Lopez contacted Stan Cain, so we had to clean that up before Cain could do anything about it. Then he goes and calls Liam, and we knew José’s conscience had gotten the better of him. José wanted out but that’s not how it works.

“Calderone was sent to José’s last week to make it look like a murder-suicide. Only he missed the shot at Liam.”

I turned and saw ASA Garza walking toward me. He was dressed in a nice suit and tie and strolled as if he was taking a leisurely walk on the beach. “It was you!”

“You should have gone with your initial instincts,” he said. “Once Liam searched Young’s place, I had a feeling he’d find what we were looking for.”

“And Deputy Young?”

“I’m afraid he’s no longer with us.”

“But there’s blood on the boat. People will get concerned.”

“All cleaned up and set adrift. The Coast Guard will assume he fell overboard,” Garza said. “Any other details you want explained?”

“Yeah. Why are you such an asshole?”

His response was to slap me across the face. It stung so much tears came. Liam moaned then. “Don’t worry,” I whispered to him. “I’ll get us out of this.”

Garza shook his head and then backhanded me again. This
time he knocked me to the floor. Booker was struggling against his restraints and now a conscious Liam was doing the same thing.

I’d hit my head on the concrete, so I was literally seeing stars. I rolled over onto my back. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it isn’t nice to hit girls?”

“My mother taught me to be pragmatic,” Garza answered. He then turned to the three other men. “Two of you wait outside. I don’t want to risk any company.”

Ferrer and Santiago left. Calderone was standing next to Garza and, judging by the look on his face, he was enjoying watching me get my ass kicked. “What else has you concerned, Finley?”

“You dismissed the charges against Liam, so the police will continue their investigation. Liam can’t just disappear.”

“Good point,” he said with a chuckle. “Only Liam is supposed to disappear.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I worked out all the particulars with his lawyer today. Mr. Caprelli was in complete agreement with my plan.”

“What plan?” Did I really want to know?

“As I told Mr. Caprelli, we’ve now linked José Lopez’s murder to the Latin Bandits. The person who shot at you and Liam was a Latin Bandit.”

“Since when?”

“Since he was given the contract by one of my associates. Unfortunately, he was killed by Deputy Santiago, so there won’t be any investigation.”

“You’ve thought of everything, huh?”

“Tony knows neither Liam nor I would walk away from our lives.

“If only you could have seen the look of understanding on his face,” Garza said.

Ferrer came racing into the building. “Just heard over the radio. There are cops on the way here.”

Thank God! “Guess you weren’t as thorough as you thought,” I told Garza.

He shrugged. “Minor inconvenience.” He turned to Ferrer and Vasquez. “You two and Santiago get out of here. Calderone, call in your location. Tell them you heard shots fired inside the warehouse. Then come back here and do away with our friends. Then fire off some rounds so it looks like you were targeting someone. We’ll find a Latin Bandit to pin it on later.”