Trevar's Team 3 Read online

  “Trail, do any of the other photos show a trail to the ocean, where the killer might have scrubbed up?” Summer asked.

  “Tides would probably have carried any trace of blood away, and washed the shore clean,” Jill remarked. “And with the winds last night, his clothing probably would have been dried before he met up with anyone.”

  “It was dusk, getting darker and gusty. There probably wasn’t anyone out strolling,” Summer responded. “I’m thinking Tom and the detectives believe the only way the Ogden case will be solved is if a jailhouse snitch bargains for early release time. We can all check with our confidential informants. Just a thought.”

  There was also a breeze of discontentment at our conference table. I jumped in. “Good idea, Summer. The streets may have some talk going on. Okay, everyone please write a report with your personal conjecture as to how it would have happened. And why. Make a list of suspects. Then let’s go over this again later.”

  The three began to leave. I called Jill and Summer back. They sat. “What’s going on?” Summer asked.

  “On this investigation, we’re going to shake up the roster. You two will be working the case independently. Go your own way, follow your own leads, and then we’ll still report during our morning conferences. If there is a time when both of you work together, there will be an agenda. One day Summer will be in charge, the next day Jill is in charge. Rotating leadership.”

  They uttered their agreement. Both looking a bit shell-shocked, however they nodded their approval.

  I continued staring them down. “Right now, we have two homicide cases. And we’ve got to get them right. Getting them right will take teamwork. But from now on, as often as possible, we will be a team working independently. Are the two of you in agreement with that?”

  “Certainly,” Jill answered.

  Summer’s lips pursed. “I’m good with that.”

  “Wonderful,” I said as I stood. “I want a happy yacht. I want this to be the good ship lollypop, dressed in smiles, and sailing an ocean blue.”

  Their expressions relayed that they got my message. Loud and clear, and sweet.

  After a few calls, I walked back to the office. It was quiet, and Rachel appeared relaxed. Things finally seemed upbeat. “Where did Summer and Jill go?” I asked Rachel. I took a chair near her desk.

  “Down to our gym. They are doing their workouts together.” She frowned. “Did you scold them?”

  “Naw. I set down rules. They were visually shaken that I would set up boundaries. But what I really did was to rearrange their irritations. They are no longer ticked off at one another. They’re now together. Both being upset with me. I replace their mutual targets – one another, with me as the villain.”

  With a snide grin, Rachel questioned, “How are they going to react when you boss them around?”

  I returned her grin. “Rachel, it’s simple. I give you the outline of their assignments, and you present the tasks to them. Your responsibility is to be condescending, congenial, and empathetic. You are their companion and cooperator. They won’t blame you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I can be sugar-coated. Downright affectionate. They’ll be fine.”

  Rachel let out a howl. “You used to play the jury just like this, didn’t you?”

  “I plead sort of guilty.” I winked at her.

  We both were well aware that it was a plan that would work. I knew Rachel didn’t have free time to deal with this new dimension to the Team. But I also was aware that she would manage with decorum and delicacy.

  When my phone rang, I let it go to message. It was Chief Powers asking if I was going back to my defense attorney ways. In the morning I would report that Mona was hand-selecting a firm, however Trevar Investigators was going to be maintaining its role in detective work. That would give Tom indigestion. He already was aware that I was going to be defending my cousin, Boyd, if it ever got to that place.

  We all could and would kill for certain reasons. Being attacked. Being a member of the military protecting our country. Revenge for a loved one being killed. We don’t like to think we could fit into that costume – murderer. But I’ve seen enough of civilization to believe every single person might plot, snap, hire a hit, or in some other way, commit a homicide, taking someone else’s life.

  However, Boyd’s demeanor is at the opposite end of the scale. I bristled thinking that sometimes the killer ends up being the one you least expect. Like finding love, that can also be someone unsuspected. Everything lately seemed rather like love, I thought to myself.

  Looking over my notes, there was one thing that clearly stood out. Murder cases have an emotional tone. The universe seems to be shouting to us, urgency is required.

  Even with the lovely ocean outside my office window, working inside was always a tad dismal. The afternoon clouds had burned off. The scene made the sea look like polished sunlight. I enjoyed twilight as it peeked over the horizon. It was a reminder that the daylight has been spent, and evening is approaching. It was at about this time when Donald Ogden was accosted and murdered.

  The thought came to me. I’d like to see the murder scene at this time, the death time, and from the oceanside. I decided to take our twenty-four-foot runabout boat out. I could take a look at the shoreline. Many yachts have a small powered outboard, and also have the marine winch to launch it. Runabout boats come in handy as the larger ship’s tender.

  I called for Summer and Jill to give me a hand with the hydraulics to launch. Summer was skilled and adapt at anything mechanical. She proudly explained the process to Jill. That was an excellent ‘togetherness’ moment. Summer also offered to teach Jill about powerboats. Jill bristled and mentioned she did know how to pilot a boat.

  The two then tried to insist I take one of them with me. An idea I immediately rejected. I propelled the craft to the area where Donald had been murdered. The tide was washing the shore clean. Behind the brow of berm, was the path. I zeroed in on the exact area. Then I took several photos, from different angles. There was nothing added to the information we already had. But perhaps this little jaunt was more for my peace and pleasure.

  As I made a course change, navigating my way back to The Radclyffe, I wondered who designed the hull. The keel was the center of the bottom. It resembled the breastbone of a bird.

  The evening was calm, and I was tranquil. That never lasted. But I gazed up at a field of blinking stars. I was in hopes that Summer and Jill had not feuded. I needed one of the ‘little sailors’ to strap and winch the powerboat up to its position aboard.

  I called for both of them to come out on the deck. It was a lesson about the importance of two humans working together to get a job done.

  Disharmony skews the formality of affinity. If nothing else, Summer and Jill might need to foreshadow their impulses in order to get my small boat aboard. My plan must have been working. The two sea-women put my craft down hard. We all laughed. I knew they’d plotted a harsh landing.

  Chapter 5

  “Donald Ogden was slashed to bits. We’re talking about malfeasance going on big time,” Summer said as she examined the large screen.

  Rachel had loaded the forensics photos. The day had started with a quick meeting, and not a very jovial one at that. Crime scenes are never pretty, and this scene was enormously brutal, and bloody.

  Jill commented, “When I was in Miami, we referred to it as a slice and dice homicide. It was usually done by someone hating the victim very much. Our client fits that bill perfectly. However, also crazed drug addicts chopped until they dropped. A little gallows humor to begin the day.”

  I chuckled, but Summer’s features showed that she was perturbed. She was not a morning person. She muttered, “I say it was Mona.”

  “I saw her arrogance, but she doesn’t strike me as a psychopathic freak. I can’t quite see Mona Ross Ogden wanting her thousand-dollar outfit smudged red.” I’d made an attempt at defending her. “And she’s five-five and one-hundred and twenty or
thirty pounds. Even with a weapon, she wouldn’t be any match for him.”

  “Hired. She could afford to pay a hitman to take him apart like that,” Summer suggested.

  Rachel sighed deeply. “Trev, you met her. I think she’s all talk.”

  Jill added, “And he didn’t seem as though he was a bad sort. But the psychopaths can sell anything to anybody. They are the best play actors in the world. They lie. I think Donald had that personality trait. He deceived and got a kick out of the way he could distort the truth.”

  I closed my eye, thinking of the one time I’d met him. “When I talked to him, he said he didn’t want the divorce.” I got up from our conference table and looked closely at the screen. Mona’s words were vitriolic, and from some deep hatred. Surely, I considered, she had money to buy him off. And the charges against him weren’t adding up. There wasn’t infidelity. There wasn’t, on a cursory examination, any proof that he was in collusion by selling blueprints. If he sold bidding information, it wasn’t visible. Rachel was still checking it out. But he seemed clean. His background check was wholesome. “He should have agreed to a divorce.”

  Rachel surmised, “So you think Mona was behind it?”

  “Maybe he hid a girlfriend away,” Summer mused. “And his sweetheart wanted him to leave Mona. When he didn’t, his love interest killed him.”

  “His love interest would have needed to be Amazonian to kill him alone,” Jill inserted.

  Summer countered, “I’m saying that it would have had to be a very strong woman. Like you and like me.” She glanced my way, “Not that you’re not well-exercised, Trev, but you’re not as buff as we are. No offense. Trev.” She glared at Jill.

  “The point is mute, because I certainly didn’t get any information linking him to another woman.” Jill’s back went straight. “I think it was a hitman.”

  I sighed. “Okay, let’s calm down. You two, go back over your notes. See if there might be anything. Check anyone that might be suspicious in Mona’s background.”

  Rachel jumped in, “The daily assignments are: Beryl check out things with Boyd and Mandy. Jill, look into Donald Ogden’s contacts. Summer, continue interrogating those close to Mona, at Ross Architects.”

  Their grumbles were accompanied with shrugs. Jill and Summer left the room. Rachel asked, “I think that went well, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” I answered. “Can’t you get that image off the screen. I’ve got it memorized. I’m going to check on Laski, Coleman, and Dimitri. Then I’ll drop by to visit Mandy. I don’t want her to think I’m dropping Boyd off at her doorstep. I’ll find him another motel room if he’s bugging her.”

  “Good plan. I’d hate to burn a good confidential informant like Mandy.” Rachel snickered. “Boyd might be the kind of person that lumbers others with his problems. Soft touches like you and Mandy - you’ve got his problems, and she’s now got his problems.”

  I shrugged. “Rachel, he’s family. But I am going to make certain Mandy doesn’t regret issuing him an invitation to stay with her.

  With a quick exit from our craft, I strolled to my vehicle. I was glad the top was up, and I wasn’t going to go convertible. I drove to West Palm. There was a docking area where hunters of sea treasure congregated. In a rough part of town, and with rough trade, it was usually buzzing with gossip among the workers. Two-bit, semi-drunk sailors often don’t know any better than to answer questions. My hopes were that I would run into a stooge that talks. Someone there might have known Simon Wagoner. Even if they knew Laski, Coleman, and Dimitri, they probably wouldn’t blab to a stranger about it.

  The Blue Sea Bar was sleazy. Shoddy décor gave a hint of the ocean. Fishing nets, and shells had been ripped, and broken. Obviously, the place had seen its share of brawls. I ordered a bottle of beer. I watched carefully as a hairy, tattooed house of a man opened the beer. I always watched that nothing was slipped in my drink when I came into the lower-end establishments. The place was crawling with grime. The large bartender grumbled, “Anything else.” He pounded the beer on the bar.

  “I do have a question you might be able to help me with.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know a man named Simon Wagoner?”

  “I did. The guy’s a corpse now.”

  “Simon’s dead?” I question with my best acting skill. “What happened? He was only thirty-five. And I saw him a few weeks ago. He was working on Sea Fortune. He said they were pulling up some treasure.”

  “I know nothin’ about that. He used to come in once in a while. You’re a classy broad. I don’t think you’da given him the time of day. I say you’re either a bill collector or a probation officer.”

  “Smart,” I complimented him, adding a grin. “Probation officer. But I hadn’t heard he died. One less report to write,” I said nonchalantly. “I never got to know him, but he was keeping his nose clean.”

  The bartender gulped a laugh. “Probably not. Listen, I got no more answers. See that guy across the room, seated in the booth. His name is Ax, and he knew Simon better than the rest of us.”

  I threw a tip on the bar’s countertop. When I approached the booth, I said, “Hi, Ax.” The guy was big as a semi truck, and as mean looking as a teased rattlesnake.

  “Do I know you?” His face was shaggy, his eyes deep and haunting. He’d been around.

  “No. I just heard Simon Wagoner bought the farm. The bartender said you knew him pretty good.”

  “Why you checking him?”

  “Ax, I’m a probation officer. He didn’t list any next of kin. I have questions.”

  He rubbed his fingers together. “My Pappy used to say ‘that ain’t gonna plow my field.’ You know what I mean?’

  I put a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Does this help with your crop planting?”

  “He had no family. At least no family that would want him around. You probably been out to the treasure huntin’ craft. The ship is with all these Russians. Shifty guys. And dangerous. They’re mad dogs. And this fella Mickey is a piranha.” Ax pointed to his head and whirled his finger. “They don’t make ‘em nuttier than Mickey.”

  “I called the ship and got no information. So, I figured he hung around here.”

  Ax’s eyes were examining my frame. As if he’d never seen a woman before, his glances shifted. “Most folks liked him okay. Most didn’t abide by the company he kept. That I can tell you. I liked his stories. He could tell what a lady was like in the sack just by looking. He went to strip clubs.”

  “Any special lady?” I explored.

  “Anyone who would give him a good time, and the time of day. He did have one gal he took to.”

  “Where was his favorite hangout?”

  “A dive that’s a few blocks away. Called ‘Sheeran’s Club’ – but it doesn’t open until two in the afternoon.”

  “Anything you can tell me about Simon?”

  “Lots, but you’d slap my face.”

  “How did he die?” I glared.

  “I ain’t sure if the bullets got him or he drowned.” I noticed Ax’s eyes were getting fiercer.

  I questioned, “Any guess who killed him?”

  “I heard it was some new diver. I never met him, but he musta rolled Simon for his cash, or maybe some gold.”

  “Was the guy a friend of his?”

  Ax roared a laugh. “You kiddin’? Lady, the guy killed him. That doesn’t sound too friendly.” He chugged a mouthful of beer. Still laughing, he accused, “I thought at first you might be a cop. But if you ask a question like that, you’re too fuckin’ dumb to be a cop or a detective.”

  I joined in his laughter. “Hey, thanks for your talk.” Heading for the door, I noticed that there were many, many eyes scrutinizing me. Private detectives stumble into very weird worlds. Worlds where most people just barely caught the edge.

  The fresh ocean air didn’t clean up the harbor smog, but it smelled better than the Blue Sea Bar. Amazed that my car wasn’t heisted on a flatbed, I thanked goddess for
the magnificently expensive alarm system.

  Within a couple blocks, phone music got my attention. It was Mandy. She said she wanted to talk with me. She suggested we’d have lunch. “Mandy, I’m in West Palm so it will be awhile.”

  I heard her bubbly response, “See, I always say things are meant to happen as they happen. I’m headed down to CityPlace. There’s an extraordinary dining spot called Darlin’ Lucy. So, meet us there in fifteen.”

  While enjoying the CityPlace area, I best loved it when going there to shop, or to socialize. Going there while in the middle of two murder cases, both with much mayhem, made it like going to a restricted area. Located in downtown West Palm Beach, CityPlace was for premier shopping, dining and entertaining. It was upscale, inspired by Western European architecture, and there were arcades, and promenades, water fountains, and floral designed landscapes.

  “Will do,” I answered. I’d never been to Darlin’ Lucy before, so lunch there would be a nice break from reality.

  That was my thought until Mandy’s dirty little chuckle bloomed through phone, and through the airways. “We’ve got a surprise for you, Beryl. Someone for you to meet.”

  I clicked off. I suddenly wanted to drive immediately to Key West. I didn’t have time for some romantic interlude. Earlier in her life Mandy knew only shady ladies. The game gorgeous women that her pricy and exclusive escort agency once provided were luscious, but I had enough trouble with them each time Mandy called me to spring one of her women from jail. Back then, when I was just beginning my career as an attorney, I never turned business down. And I certainly wasn’t interested in pay-as-you-go romance. And she wasn’t promoting hookers anyway. She had shut down her gaming life, but apparently couldn’t help her matchmaking skills.

  The problem at hand was that I had absolutely no time for love. Always on call. Two murders, and seemingly dozens to interrogate, would be pressing hard on me. Being a detective isn’t a social life. I’d tried dating, and it was disastrous. Out on an evening of romance, phone always seems to ring. I make excuses to my date. She never answers a call from me again. And sometimes the woman changes her phone number. I assumed that to be because she never wanted me to contact her.