Jay Giles (31 page)
“Thanks.” I smiled a little self-consciously, dialed the scrambler number. A man answered, got Raines.
“Yeah,” he said.
“It’s Matt Seattle. You said you wanted to know who was in charge of the investigation. There’s a message on my machine from a Lieutenant Ellsworth. He’s the guy, and he wants me to call him back.”
“I’ll call him, tell him we’re involved. He may still want to talk to you, but I want to talk to him first. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so.”
“My guys are alerted. No word on your friend yet.”
He rang off. I put my phone down, feeling vaguely unsettled by the conversation with Raines. The last thing I needed was a turf war.
Tory slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got to leave.”
I rode down in the elevator with her. “I know you meant leave the condo, but you should leave Sarasota. Take off before D’Onifrio grabs you, too.”
She looked at me, her face resolute. “He’s not going to come after me. It doesn’t make any sense for him to take another hostage. Besides, you need the help.”
I didn’t think anything else I said would change her mind. We rode in silence the rest of the way. The doors opened when we reached the ground level. “Thanks,” I told her before we stepped out and headed to our cars.
On the way back to my place, I made a quick trip to Publix, picked up some chicken from the deli counter. I ate in the kitchen, one eye on the phone, wondering who my next caller would be.
It turned out to be Ellsworth. He called at seven. “Mr. Seattle, I’ve talked to Paul Raines. I’d like to talk to you.”
I tried to read between the words, but couldn’t tell if the conversation with Raines upset him. “Sure. When do you want to meet?”
“How about now?”
“Where?”
“Police headquarters. Fourth and Main. Tell them at the front desk you’re there to see me. They’ll have someone escort you up.”
Forty minutes later, I was sitting in the visitor’s chair across a battered green metal desk from Brock Ellsworth, a short, muscular man with big shoulders, a big neck, a shaved head. His features were regular enough until you got to his eyes, which were cold and distrusting. He wore a patterned tie over a brown short-sleeved dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up. To show off his biceps, I guessed.
Every inch of his small office was in use—photos pinned to the walls, cardboard boxes stacked against walls, files everywhere.
Ellsworth had sent the girl who walked me to his office to get us coffee. She surprised me when she brought back two large cups from Starbucks.
Ellsworth gulped his eagerly, said, “I hate the crap we’ve got here.”
I took a sip of mine, smiled. “It’s very good. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Thanks for coming right over. I told you I talked to Raines. He asked me to cooperate on this. I told him the department always cooperates with the D.E.A. But you know what? I’m a lot more concerned about Rosemary Shears than I am about Don D’Onifrio.” He drank more coffee, put the cup on his desk, leaned forward. “I want you to tell me everything you know about this, ‘cause I don’t want Rosemary Shears dying because this guy Raines has a hard-on for D’Onifrio.”
I told him what I knew. Didn’t leave anything out. While I talked, he finished his coffee, threw the cup in a wastebasket where it joined others.
“Let me get this straight,” he said when I finished. “You’re going to this wedding thinking Raines is going to rescue you and this Rosemary Shears?”
I nodded.
He laughed contemptuously.
“Raines doesn’t care about you or this Shears woman. He’s only interested in putting D’Onifrio away. He’s on a personal vendetta because he’s lost four of his men. Now he might be telling you he wants to get D’Onifrio on kidnapping charges, but if D’Onifrio kills you and the Shears woman, Raines can go after him for murder.” He sat back in his seat, watched me, waited for my reaction.
If he was trying to frighten me, he was succeeding. I tried not to let that show. “What should I do?”
He continued to watch me. “You walk into that wedding, I guarantee they’ll carry you out in a body bag. He can’t stop what’s bound to happen.”
“I hear you, but I don’t see I have any choice. If I don’t go, Rosemary’s dead. Rather than warning me about Raines, the two of you should be working together, figuring out how to keep us alive.”
Ellsworth smiled. “Didn’t I tell you? The department always cooperates with the D.E.A. Stay in touch, Mr. Seattle.” He handed me one of his cards. “It would be in your best interest to keep me very much in the loop.”
He stood. I was dismissed.
I drove home in a daze. I had the bad guys fighting, the good guys fighting, the clock ticking.
Sunday the weather worsened. It was overcast, spitting rain. My mood darkened as well. In the afternoon, I had a bad conversation with Raines. He was annoyed with me for talking to Ellsworth and not calling to fill him in on the meeting. He was more annoyed when I told him what Ellsworth had said. He did little to assure me that Ellsworth was wrong. Most troubling, he never mentioned Rosemary. I had to ask twice before he told me they didn’t know anything new.
That evening, I took Chinese over to Dan. We ate at their kitchen table. Dan wolfed his down as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He looked terrible. His eyes were tired, bloodshot. He hadn’t shaved or combed his hair. His clothes looked slept in. Twice during dinner he broke down and cried.
I tried to steer the conversation to happier times. He rallied a bit then slid back into sadness. After dinner, we played cards. He seemed to enjoy that. When I left at nine, he hugged me. “Thanks for coming, Matt. You don’t know how alone I feel.”
But I did. I knew exactly how he felt.
There were messages on my machine when I returned to the condo. The courtesy call from a carpet cleaner I deleted immediately. Ellworth was call two. I returned his call, learned he’d gone off duty. I left a voicemail that I was returning his call and would call him in the morning. Call three was Tory. She answered when I called.
“I was checking to see how you were doing. You were pretty low when I left yesterday.”
“You don’t know what low is. I just took dinner over to Dan.”
“That was nice of you.”
“He’s a mess.”
“I thought you might need a little cheering up, too. You want to have a drink somewhere?”
“Sure. Meet you at Tommy Bahama’s at ten-thirty?” I named an upscale restaurant and bar on St. Armand’s Circle.
She was already there when I arrived, seated at a table for two. A man was leaning on the other chair, talking to her. As he saw me approaching, he left quickly.
“A friend?” I asked, sitting down.
She smiled. “He’d like to be. He was sharing some interesting ideas on how we could get to know each other.”
Our waitress arrived. Tory had a glass of wine in front of her. I ordered one, too.
“So how are you holding up?”
“I’ve had better days.” I told her about the antagonism between Raines and Ellsworth.
Her face grew serious. “I was counting on Raines.”
“I was, too. Now, I don’t know if I trust either of them.”
“Are you still going to the wedding?”
I nodded. “Have to.”
She fiddled with the stem of her glass. “It’s not fair. There are so many creeps out there—like that guy that was just hitting on me—I don’t know why this had to happen to you.”
“I’m not happy about it, either. In fact, I’m scared to death,” I said honestly. “But I’m planning on getting through it. Somehow.”
She started to say something.
I stopped her. “If I don’t, I’ve had a good life. I had a great marriage. Two wonderful kids. A dog that looked after me.”
She smiled at the mention of Eddie.
“A great career. Something good even came out of this mess—I met you.”
She looked up sharply.
Maybe it was the wine talking. Maybe it was Dr. Swarthmore’s voice in the back of my head urging me on. Maybe it was from my heart. Whatever it was, I did something I hadn’t done in an awfully long time: I opened up. “I thought I’d never care about anyone again. I was sure I’d spend the rest of my life by myself. But you’ve changed that. When I’m with you, there’s an excitement to life. I don’t know how you feel, but I know I’d like to see more of you.” I stopped, unsure of her reaction. “I’m sorry; I’ve probably embarrassed you.”
Her gaze found mine. “You couldn’t embarrass me. You are the kindest, most considerate man I’ve ever known, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”
My spirits, which had been plumbing the depths, soared. I smiled, reached out, took her hands in mine. “We have to make a pact. I’m not going to lose you. You’re not going to lose me. When this is over, we’ll both be around to spend time together.”
Monday, Raines called me. “
Seattle
, we’re going to scout City Hall, take a look at the area where this wedding actually takes place, see what we have to work with. It would be good to have you along.”
Of course, it couldn’t be simple as just meeting him there. I had to drive to a home in the gated community of the Longboat Key Club Estates, go inside the home, wait half an hour, leave via a van in the closed garage. My guide was a woman, Tara, who spent the half hour before we left watching out the window. In the van, she watched the mirrors. “We’re clean,” she said into a walkie-talkie as we drove over the causeway to the mainland. We drove to a back entrance of City Hall. Dumpsters and garbage cans lined the wall. She pointed to a door. “One of our men is waiting for you.”
The man inside took me to a room on the third floor. Raines and nine other people were inside, looking over blueprints. He nodded to me when I came in, continued giving the group instructions. When he was done with his briefing, he sent them to the fourth floor in ones and twos. He said to me, “We’re going to have three agents on four, six watching the street entrances, one coordinating from a set of floor plans. Once D’Onifrio and Shears enter the building, it’ll be sealed. We’ll have them.”
I was impressed. Not the shoot-out at OK Corral Ellsworth had led me to believe.
Raines got something out of a backpack, handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Bulletproof vest. Try it on. Make sure it fits.”
I put it on, had trouble putting my polo shirt back on.
“Don’t worry about that. Wear a bulkier shirt on Friday,” Raines said. He took the vest from me, put it in the backpack, handed it to me. “Hold on to that.”
“Will you be here Friday?”
“I’ll be close by.” He looked at his watch. “We can go up now.”
Room 410 turned out to be two rooms connected by a door: a large waiting room and a smaller room where the actual ceremonies were conducted. Once couples were called into the ceremony room, they didn’t return to the waiting room. They exited to the hall.
“We’ll have agents at both of those doors,” Raines whispered as we stood in the waiting room. “I want you over there.” He pointed to a long wooden bench by the door to the ceremony room. “Any questions?”
“What time should I be here?”
“Wedding’s at two. Be here at one-thirty. Don’t acknowledge any of my people. D’Onifrio will have people here, too.”
“How about Ellsworth? Have you coordinated this with him?”
Raines face hardened. “Ellsworth may have a leak in his organization. The less he and his people know the better.”
I didn’t like hearing that. “What if he asks me?”
“Tell him you don’t know.”
Guess I’d used up my last question. Raines headed for the door. Led me to the service elevator. “
Tara
will take you back.”
We repeated our little charade at the home in the Estates. I drove back to the Watergate, went by the lobby to pick up my mail. Sure enough, there was a fat manila envelope from Pier ‘n Plane. I carried it all upstairs, dumped it on the kitchen table. The answering machine was beeping. I ignored it, got a can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator, took it out on the balcony.
Looking out at the Gulf, I tried to sort things out. One of those calls on my machine could well be Ellsworth. If Raines was right, I didn’t want to tell him anything. On the other hand, Ellsworth had been pretty convincing when he’d made his case against Raines. I worried it while I drank my drink, didn’t settle anything. I went back inside, played my messages. There were two.
Julian was the first. “Matt, I have the report from Nathan Cohen, the CPA who reviewed the information Nevitt supplied. He said they didn’t give us much, no bank or brokerage statements, no tax returns. It’s a lot of fluff. I’m calling Fowler to set up a meeting, go over Nathan’s report with him, ask for a dismissal. I’ll keep you posted.”
That was welcome news.
Tory was the second call. “It’s Tory. Frankie just called and wanted more details about his honeymoon cruise. Janet’s getting antsy again. He was hoping he’d have something to share with her. They’re having dinner and going dancing tonight. Give me a call. Oh, I had a good time last night.”
I smiled, dialed her number. Her machine picked up. I started to leave a message, but she picked up, out of breath. “Glad you called. I was on my way over to Frankie’s to try and calm him down.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Janet wants constant attention. Frankie doesn’t know what to do with her. I told him I’d come over, help plot some things to get him through these days before the wedding.”
“I’ve got cruise literature. If you’re headed over to his place now, I’ll meet you there. We can go over this stuff with him.”
“Great. See you in a little bit.”
I hung up, started out, hesitated. I’d told Ellsworth I’d call him. I hadn’t. I went back to the phone, dialed his number. After four rings, there was a little hiccup, and I was kicked over to someone else. “Suarez.” A woman answered.
“This is Matt Seattle calling. I was trying to reach Lieutenant Ellsworth.”
“He’s not in right now. Can I help you?”
“I think I need to talk to him. Would you let him know I called? I’ll try to call him back.”
“Matt Seattle, got it.”
“Thanks,” I told her and hung up. I grabbed the envelope from Pier ‘n Plane, headed out.
When I let myself into Fish’s condo, Tory was already there. The two of them were seated at the kitchen table. On a big piece of wrapping paper, Tory had drawn out a calendar of the days before the wedding.
I peered over her shoulder to see what they’d filled in. Not much. “We’re just getting started,” she said.
Within half an hour, she’d penciled in an agenda for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. In Friday’s column, she had the wedding marked at two. She tapped that with her pencil. “We’ll arrange for a limo to pick you and Janet up, take you to City Hall.” She marked that down. “Friday night you can spend here or at her place. Saturday you leave for your cruise.”
That was my cue to spread out the cruise literature. Fish studied it intently. He looked up, eyes wide, brows knitted together. “This is great. You don’t know how much I appreciate you guys doing this for me.”
While he was in an appreciative mood seemed a good time to probe for information. “What arrangements have you made with D’Onifrio for after the wedding? Might impact how we get you to this cruise?”
“The boss has thought through all that. He’s going to have papers for her that look like she’s getting access to all my accounts. Instead, they’ll give us access to all hers.”
“He doesn’t have time for that, does he? The awards presentation is only a couple of hours later.”
“He’s planning on doing it right after the ceremony. I mean right after we say our ‘I do’s.’”
“Did he say any more about Rosemary?”
Fish’s jowls quivered, his version of a frown. “I asked. He said he’d have her there like he told you.”
That helped.
Fish held up the cruise literature. “Thanks again for this.”
I smiled. I hoped I’d be there on Saturday to wish him bon voyage.
