Hooligans (52 page)

“Not really; it was all business. I haven‟t seen him to talk to since he moved here.”

“When was that?”

“I couldn‟t say accurately. About three years ago.”

“Did you meet here in Dunetown?”

He nodded. “The first time we were supposed to meet at the old Beach Hotel, but it didn‟t suit him, so

we switched the meeting to Charlie Seaborn‟s yacht. The second time he had his own boat down

here.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Development ideas, other money interests. Later he put us on to”—he waved a hand vaguely in the

air—”several others.

“Bronicata, Chevos,” I said.

“Yes, only not by those names. You‟ve got to remember, he came very highly recommended. He had

development resources, excellent credit references, all in the name of Frank Turner.”

“And you never suspected who he really was?”

His face clouded up. “Of course not,” he said. There was a touch of indignation in his tone but he

tempered it quickly. “Look,” he went on, “we were looking for developers here. It was obvious the

track was going to change things, and Turner talked an excellent game. He seemed very civic-minded.

His development ideas were sound. We had no reason to doubt him.”

“I wasn‟t accusing you of anything,” I said.

“I know that. I just want you to understand, this is all very new to us. At worst we were guilty of

naiveté.”

Babs Thomas appeared in the doorway, tapping her foot.

“The party‟s in here,” she said sternly. “You two can talk football, or whatever you‟ve found so

damned interesting, some other time. And you, Sam, have a phone call. I think it‟s Charlie. You can

take it in the bedroom.”

“Damn” Donleavy said. “I‟m sorry. „We can finish this over lunch tomorrow.”

“Just one other thing,” I said. “Do you happen to remember the date „Tagliani came here the first

time?”

He thought about it for several seconds, then took out a business card and scrambled a number on the

back.

“No, but I‟ve got an old date book at home,” he said. “Here‟s my number. Give me a call about

quarter to eight and I can give it to you precisely. Don‟t wait until eight or you‟ll be out of luck. Dutch

Morehead usually calls me then. We talk once a week, keeps me in touch. He‟s very prompt and

we‟ve been known to talk for an hour or more.”

I thanked him, pocketed the card, and we started back inside. As Donleavy hurried off to take his call,

Stonewall Titan materialized from behind a potted plant.

“Hello, doughboy,” he said. “Don‟t miss a trick, do you? Just pop up everywhere.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” I said.

Titan looked at me, the candles igniting sparks in his narrowed eyes.

“You‟ve done it again, raised more hell, ain‟t you, son?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean your conversation with Harry at the track. That was a damn fool thing to do.”

“„time somebody levelled with him.”

“You‟re a bad penny, doughboy,” he growled. “You show up back here and within four days we got

somethin‟ akin to twelve homicides.”

He slashed at a potted plant with his cane.

“I haven‟t had two unsolved goddamn homicides at the same time in this county in forty damn years.

Now I got twelve!”

Donleavy came out of the bedroom, made his apologies, and left to await Dutch‟s weekly call, waving

good-bye as he did. It was seven fifteen. In another thirty minutes we could all leave.

“I‟ll give it to you again,” I said. “I didn‟t cause the homicides and murder isn‟t my game. It‟s not

why I came here and it isn‟t why I‟m staying.”

“I mean altogether I haven‟t had twelve unsolved homicides since I been sheriff,” he said, ignoring

my comments. “You understand my concern when we have twelve in the space of a couple of days?”

“Sure.”

“Sure? What do you mean, sure?”

“I mean sure, 1 understand your consternation.”

“Hot damn, college boy. Consternation. Well, listen close, because my consternation tells me you

know one helluva lot more about what the hell‟s goin‟ on than I do, and since this is my county, I

think it‟s time we shared whatever information you might have.”

I smiled. “And what would I get out: of it?” I asked.

“Your ass, in one piece,” he said flatly.

I laughed. “What‟re you going to do, Mr. Stoney, put out a contract on me?”

“It may be funny to you, doughboy—”

“That‟s not what I‟m laughing about,” I said, cutting him off. “I‟ve been under the impression we

were both on the same side.”

He ignored my comment and went right on making his point. “I‟m not without considerable influence

where it means something,” he said. „1 could have your tail bent till it hurts by just raisin‟ a question

or two about your conduct of this investigation.”

“I‟m sure you could.”

“What the hell‟s goin‟ on? What are you after, Kilmer?”

“I‟m looking for RICO violations, M. Stoney. You know that. Now, I could be wrong. Tagliani may

very well have inched in here without anybody knowing who he really was. But I‟ve got to know that

for sure.”

“No matter who gets hurt, that it?”

“I don‟t give a damn whose tombstones I have to kick over to get to the truth.”

“Or whose bed you sleep in?”

“Who are you really worried about, Mr. Stoney? Who are you trying to cover?”

“The integrity of my county,” he snapped.

I shook my head with disbelief. “You mean what‟s left of it, don‟t you?”

“You can be an irritatin‟ son of a bitch.”

“Probably. I didn‟t come here to run for Queen of the May.” His tone became more condescending.

“I don‟t wanna see things blown out of proportion, okay, doughboy? People make mistakes. It‟s

natural. We ain‟t all perfect.”

“I‟ll buy that,” I said. “I just want to make sure that‟s what they were—mistakes.”

“I‟m tellin‟ you they were.”

“Sheriff, I‟ll tell you everything I think. Not what I know, because I don‟t know that much. I think the

same gun killed Tagliani, Stinetto, and O‟Brian, possibly an American 180. I think the same gun was

used to kill Stizano and his bunch and Draganata, probably an M-16 equipped with a grenade

launcher. Whoever used them has a military background and killed Logeto and Graves‟ girlfriend,

Della Norman, using a garrotte that was fairly common in Vietnam. I think it was all done by one

person”

Titan pursed his lips and cocked his head to one side. “Not bad for someone who‟s game ain‟t

murder,” he said. “Why?”

“If I knew that, I could give you the killer.”

“Humph,” he snorted.

“Now I‟ve got a question to ask you. Who busted Tony Lukatis on the pot charge?”

“Why?”

“He‟s dead, that‟s why.”

“I know that. „They‟re doing an autopsy down in Glynn County right now. So what does Tony‟s

previous record have to do with anything?”

“Just curious.”

“The drug enforcement boys nailed Lukatis and his buddy.”

“Did they both do time?”

He paused for a second or two and shook his head. “The shrimper turned state‟s and got a suspended

sentence.”

“Was Lukatis running marijuana for Longnose Graves?”

Titan looked shocked. “Hell no,” he stormed. “Graves doesn‟t run dope. He may have a lot of faults

but that ain‟t one of them. Far as I know, Lukatis and his friend were freelancin‟.

“Where were they caught?”

“On Buccaneer Island, where the South River empties into Buccaneer Bay. Why are you so interested

in Lukatis?”

“Just trying to keep all the lines straight,” I said. “He and at least one of Graves‟ men were killed at

the same time. Don‟t you wonder why?”

He leaned forward and said, “I‟ll find out why when it‟s necessary.”

“You know what I think, Mr. Stoney?” I said. “I think you want to neutralize me and I‟m not sure

why. Like I said, I thought we were both on the same side.”

“I told you last night, I enforce the law my own way,” he said. “Be advised.” He turned abruptly,

elbowed his way through the chitchat, paid his respects to Babs, and left. She breezed back over.

“You‟re just the life of the party,” she said. “So far you‟ve talked to Chief Findley, Stoney, and Sam

Donleavy, and all three of them have left the party.”

“I do seem to have that effect on people, don‟t I?”

“Well, darling, Doe is still here. All is not lost.”

“I keep telling you—”

“And I don‟t believe a word of it,” she said, finishing the sentence, and went off to attend to

something.

1 stepped out onto the terrace but the rain had started, its first big drops splattering me, so I stood

under an awning, watched the thunderclouds gather around the penthouse, and listened to the wind

give the chimes a nervous breakdown and the rain grow to a steady downpour.

Doe moved on me slowly, stopping here and there to chat as she came through the room. Finally she

stepped outside and stood there, staring up at me.

“I‟ve called you and called you today,” she said, somewhat sternly.

“I don‟t spend a lot of time around the hotel,” I said.

“Come back to Windsong with me tonight,” she said in a half-whisper.

“You‟re crazy. What do you plan to do about Harry? He‟s—”

“He won‟t come out there. He stays at the townhouse during the racing season. He doesn‟t like to

make that long drive twice a day. Are you going to make me beg you, Jake?”

“Don‟t be silly.”

“I‟m spoiled, Jake,” she said with a laugh. “Nobody‟s ever denied that.”

“Nobody ever complained either.”

“I want to make love to you again I want it tonight. I don‟t want to wait a minute longer.”

“It‟s getting too touchy,” I told her. “Even Titan knows all—”

“I don‟t care about Stoney. He‟s my godfather; he should want what‟s best for me and if he doesn‟t,

the hell with him. We‟re talking about you and me and tonight That‟s all I care about. I want you. I

want to make up for twenty years.”

“In one night?”

She laughed again. “Well, it‟s a start.”

Bolts of lightning were duelling around us and the full fury of the storm lashed rain under the awning.

“Let‟s get inside,” I said.

“Not till you promise.”

“Promise what?”

“When you leave here you‟ll come out to Windsong.”

“I have to make a stop on the way,” I said, thinking about DeeDee Lukatis. I wondered whether Doe

knew that her ex-lover was dead. If she did, she was handling it very well. I decided that if she didn‟t

know, somebody else could tell her.

“How long?” she demanded.

“An hour.”

“Don‟t be late,” she said, wheeled away, and dodged back inside.

I waited for a minute or two before going back in. It was a futile gesture. Babs was watching intently

from across the room, like the linesman at a tennis match. I nodded and smiled my way back to her.

“It‟s not what you think,” I said.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes, “you don‟t have to tell me a thing. I have two perfectly good eyes

in my head.”

“Don‟t make it sound like some damn intrigue,” I said.

“Darling, I just love intrigue. It‟s what makes life worth all the trouble.”

61

Before I left the hotel, I stopped by my room and called Sam Donleavy. He was pushed for time, he

explained, since Dutch would be calling shortly, but he assured me that he would locate the book and

bring it to lunch the next day. I said that was just fine. Then I dug the company car out of the hotel

garage.

A familiar black Pontiac was crouched under the trees in front of DeeDee‟s house when I got there.

The Stick answered my ring.

“Just the two of you here?” I asked.

“Yeah,
I brought over some dinner. Lark needed a little relief. She‟s stretched out there taking a nap.”

“That bench is worse than the rack,” I said.

“She was too tired to notice.”

“How‟s DeeDee?”

“Still out. The doctor must‟ve given her enough Sec to knock an elephant on its ass.”

“Good, the more sleep she gets, the better. I‟m afraid she‟s going to be in for it from the homicide

cops, once they finish the autopsy.”

“She doesn‟t know shit.”

“You know it and I know it,” I said. “But the turkeys from the murder division also don‟t know shit.”

“I‟ll handle them,” he snapped.

“Stop acting like Humphrey Bogart. They‟d be dumber than I think they are if they didn‟t talk to her.

“What do we do about the pictures that came in on the telex? They‟ll be out here flashing them

around.”

“Burn them. She can‟t ever see him, Stick, not the way he looks now. She‟d have nightmares for the

rest of her life.”

“You‟re beginning to sound like a concerned friend.”

“I‟m trying. This is one tombstone I‟m sorry I kicked over. Besides, Tony‟s death isn‟t going to be

handled by the local cops. It‟s out of their jurisdiction.”

“Where‟d he wash up?”

“Saint Solomons Island.”

“That‟s Saint Simons Island.”

“Well, they‟ve got him down there, and it‟s their problem.”

“Five gets you ten they dump it up here anyway.”

“If it relates.”

“If?” Stick said.

“Let‟s wait and see on that one,” I said.

“There‟s something else bothering me,” the Stick said.

“What‟s that?”

“Nance,” he said. “He‟s moving around like a wolf on the prowl. Lange and Zapata are taking turns

with him.”

“I‟ve been keeping my eyes open,” I said.

“Why don‟t we lean on him? We can bust his ass—at least, let the fucker know he can‟t go around

taking pot-shots at federal agents.”