Best Defense (18 page)

twenty-nine

The site on West
Atlantic was tailor-made. It had to be
the
place. It was about two-three hundred yards west of its intersection with Route 441. As stated in the note, there was an entrance to the post office on the left. On the right was a pull-off area that opened into tall brush. Behind that was a weedy field. Perfect for concealing a box.

I drove past and continued another half-mile or so to the end of the road where there was an entrance to West Delray Regional Park. I turned into the park and let Ralph out. As he started to walk away, I stopped him. “Ralph, be careful. My gut says this could be the site. Call me if you get in trouble, and I'll come running.”

He shot me a smile. “Don't worry about me. I'm the Invisible Man. I'm only seen when I want to be.”

I turned around, then headed toward the proposed drop site, my head swinging as I checked both sides of the narrow road. High brush and trees lined the roadside. There were a couple of buildings and a commercial enterprise or two, but the growth pretty much hid them. It was a perfect location. So many hiding places that anyone could be watching—watching even as I drove through—and no one would ever know. Hiding a car would be more difficult, so that meant any surveillant had to be on foot.

At the designated pull-off, I stopped and got out. Dot and Dabba followed me as we stomped around the area. The most obvious disadvantage was there was only one way in and one way out—West Atlantic Avenue. But, as I'd noted all along the route, there were many places a person could hide if he didn't mind mosquitoes, snakes, and assorted other swamp critters.

Perhaps the biggest advantage was its proximity to Route 441, a major north-south multilane highway, as well as the closeness of the Florida Turnpike. The kidnapper could grab the box and be making a high-speed getaway in less than five minutes. I gave it an eight on my list of the four ransom sites.

“This is one isolated place,” Dabba said. “I don't think we gonna find Linda here.”

“I don't either,” I said. “I just hope Ralph will be okay. This is not like working your way around Boca.”

“He'll do fine, dearie,” Dot said. “He likes the Everglades. Ralph's got a lot of smarts he don't let on to. He ain't near as dumb as he acts.”

I looked at her, thinking that goes for you, too,
dearie.
No, I didn't ask her to explain her remark about the Everglades. I was afraid she would, and I'd know less than I knew before.

We climbed into the car, and I started toward Route 441. Up the road a hundred yards or so, a yellow mobile food truck was parked and open for business. The lettering on the side said it specialized in Mexican food.

“Want to try it?” I asked, stopping on the opposite side of the road.

“Why not?” Dot said. “I'm sure I et worse.”

“Ain't got no money,” Dabba said. “Waiting for Linda's kidnapper to come back to that field didn't give me no time to work.”

I figured work to her was panhandling, but I owed her for saving my cookies at the soccer field the night before. “Lunch, or whatever it is, is on me,” I said. “Let's see what they have. I haven't had authentic Tex-Mex since I left Dallas.”

A surprise awaited me. A man and a woman worked in the vehicle, and cooked the orders as they came in. This was not an ordinary
roach coach
, it was a Mexican restaurant on wheels. We waited in line behind several people speaking Spanish and looking like they spent their time in manual labor. An aroma of sweat and freshly mowed grass emanated from them. When we got to the window, I ordered beef tacos with green salsa and sodas all around. The second surprise came with the first bite. They were tasty and the salsa lived up to Texas standards—fiery.

We sat in the shade of the car, ate our tacos, and drank our drinks. By the time we finished, it was almost two o'clock. We had the rest of the day to kill, and I was out of places to check. I called Maddy and asked if she'd heard from the police about the cigarette pack.

“Nothing yet,” she said. “I talked to them at one. They said they were working on it. I'll call them again, then go pick up your friends and take them where they need to be. As soon as I squeeze something out of the cops, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks, Maddy. I'll be waiting.” I closed my phone, trying to come up with something productive to do. Nothing came to mind, so I leaned against the car. “Let's take a break and let those tacos digest.”

My phone rang and when I read the caller ID, a smile jumped onto my face—David. “Hello, Doctor. You're just what the doctor ordered.”

“Oh, don't you ever tire of bad jokes? Leave those to me. I received a lifetime subscription with my medical license.”

I laughed as I rose and walked away from Dot and Dabba. I didn't want my words quoted around Bob's place. David brought out the romantic in me.

“So, my love, how are the lectures? Learning anything you can use on your patients? And by the way, you'd better not be learning anything you can use on me. It's more fun to make it up as we go.”

“As a matter of fact, we did have one session on head injuries. I took lots of notes, figuring I would need them if I keep hanging around with you. How's your latest injury?”

“Injury?” I said, wondering if he was psychic. I rubbed my ribs where the thug kicked me, then stopped when I caught myself. “No injuries,” I lied. “Things are peaceful here.”

“Yeah, I believe that. I also believe I'll swim home. Let see, hit the Pacific off LA, head south, east through the Panama Canal, then swim north. Shouldn't take more than a couple of days. Right?”

“Okay, you clown, I'm still working the kidnap case. Wish I could say everything is coming together, but I haven't gotten a handle on it. We'll know a lot more after tonight.”

“Oh? What does that mean? Are you meeting with kidnappers or something? Stay out of danger. I know you'll do what you have to do, but your getting injured is what I like least about your job.”

I chuckled. “Believe it or not, I don't set out to get hurt. But sometimes … Do you have some special message for me?”

“You mean like I miss you terribly? Yes, I do. I miss you terribly and can hardly wait to get home. You've gotten so damn important to me in such a short period of time. I'm not accustomed to losing control like this. Unfortunately, I'll be home later than we planned. There's an opportunity Sunday that I want to take advantage of. It's a trip to a lab sponsored by the National Football League. They're studying the impact of concussions and looking for ways to lessen them. Something like this doesn't come along very often. I can't afford to miss it. With our no-helmet-required law for motorcycle riders, maybe I'll pick up a few techniques I can use in Florida. It will most assuredly help with you since you insist on sticking your head in front of hard objects.”

“So you say,” I said, making sure he heard my sigh. It was obvious he'd never let me forget that we met while he fingered my head where I had a huge lump and a minor concussion. “But, be warned, if you're not here on Monday, I may go after you.”

“Monday, for sure. And it can't get here fast enough. Good luck with the case. I know you'll find a way. I have faith in you. Gotta run now. Bye, sweetheart.” He sent a kiss along the phone line.

I kiss-kissed him back and flipped the phone shut, a feeling of loneliness settling over me. There wasn't any way he could help me recover Ashley, but feeling his arms around my shoulders and his head against mine would go a long way toward making me feel better. I walked back toward where Dot and Dabba sat against the car.

“Hey, dearie. First, you're happy as a blue jay, now you're sadder looking than a manhole cover. What's up?”

“Nothing I can control. David's staying over in Los Angeles for the weekend. That's all.” I hesitated, but couldn't keep it back. “I miss him so damn much. I need him here.”

“I know what you mean,” Dot said. “I still miss my man.”

Dot's words jolted me back to reality. I remembered her man, Bridge. He sacrificed his life to rescue me. I had been caught in a no-win situation, staring down the barrel of a pistol in a hostile fist. The holder left no doubt he intended to leave me as one more body in the room. Bridge came charging through the door and took the bullet meant for me. That gave me enough time to grab a gun and gain the upper hand. I lived, but Bridge died. I squeezed Dot's hand, and she gave me a sad smile.

I thought of David and Mom, then of Bob, Dot, and all those sticking their necks out for me and for Ashley. Life wasn't so bad, after all.

“I miss my Linda,” Dabba said and sniffled. “She's such a delight.”

I sighed and forced my mind to return to the case where the edge of an idea appeared. “Dot, think you can do your homeless bit in a neighborhood during the day?”

“Of course I can. I do it all the time. What they gonna do, tell me to get lost? Been told worse, much worse. What you got in mind?”

“The more I think about Ralph's idea, the more I'm inclined to agree it's possible. If I can get the addresses of Mankosky and Simonson, I'd like to swing through their neighborhoods. Both of them died in prison. Maybe one of the wives is seeking revenge.”

“Let's do it,” Dot said.

“I'll be right there with you,” Dabba said. “We can ask 'em if they
got Linda.”

Oh great, I thought, feeling my eyes roll. Just walk up and ask, “Hey, you been holding Linda for the past forty years?” Simple. Sure. How could I keep Dabba from compromising things even before I had something concrete to compromise?

I debated whom to call. Sargent and Bannon were with John, working out delivery of the ransom boxes. Then I thought, why not start at the top? I dialed the police station, identified myself, and asked to speak to Chief Elston.

“Beth, what can I do for you?” he said when we connected. “Are
you ready for tonight?”

“As ready as I can be,” I said. “But for now, I need the addresses of the widows of Herbert Lowery Mankosky and Donald Kenneth Simonson. And I need them in a hurry.”

“Why? Have you learned something?”

“No. Just tracing every hunch. Trying to find a key that will unlock this puzzle before we lose Ashley—and Hammonds loses four million bucks. Can you get them for me?”

“Sure.” The line went quiet, creating an uncomfortable silence. “Why only those two? Why not all five?”

“We've already checked the three survivors. Now, I'm following a gut feeling. Mankosky and Simonson didn't come home from prison. I'm guessing they have heirs who might blame John Hammonds—blame him enough to think murder and kidnapping are ways to get even. And a million dollars is a powerful argument.”

More silence. “Fair enough,” Elston said. “Wait while I put you on hold.”

The phone went quiet, so I laid it in the grass beside me and turned on the speaker. I leaned my head against the car, willing Elston to find the information I sought. Neither Dot nor Dabba interrupted.

“Beth, you still there?”

I grabbed the phone and said, “Yes, Chief. Do you have them?”

“On a fast search, this is what we came up with.” He read off two addresses, both in his jurisdiction, Coral Lakes. “Let me know if you need anything else—anything at all. Either we capture the kidnappers tonight, or we let them make the pickup. There is simply no other alternative. Well, none as long as Hammonds insists the police keep a low profile.”

“I understand. Trust me, I feel the pressure. I will not consider her loss as an option. We will get her back. Thanks for the info. I'm on the run.”

I hung up and smiled at Dot and Dabba. “Ladies, it's time to go to work.”

_____

I drove down Witherspoon Street, looking at Simonson's house. His wife's status didn't appear to have taken a hit with his death. Since he died of natural causes, she might have collected big time on life insurance. Either that or he left her well-set when his prison term began.

The house was on a large lot with a well-maintained front lawn.
Not as grand as John Hammonds' place, but nice. It was three stories in classic Florida masonry with a three-car garage and a roof with several elevations. The windows were dark, either from tinting or closed blinds. Not surprising. All the houses along the street had accordion shutters and opaque windows. I was no realtor, but I placed the Simonson place in the several million dollars range. Of course, in South Florida, a million didn't buy near as much as most places.

I wasn't surprised there were no toys on the lawn. If Ashley
were in there, no one would be advertising. I looked at Dot who sat
in the front passenger seat. “What do you think? Want to knock on doors?”

“May as well,” she said. “Can't go through the garbage during daylight. Go around the corner and drop me off.”

“I'll go with you,” Dabba said. “We can be a team.”

“No,” Dot said. “This is a one-person job. If they see two of us at the door, they won't open it.”

“Humph. Well, you look good for Linda. Watch for pink. That's her favorite color.”

I breathed a soft sigh of relief. Dot had gotten me off the hook with Dabba. I turned the corner and pulled over.

Dot said, “Give me forty-five minutes. I'll work the whole street so it don't look like I'm pickin' on that one. Meet you back here.”

“Okay. Dabba and I will make ourselves scarce. My car doesn't live up to this neighborhood. See you in forty-five. Be careful.” My real reason for leaving the area was to prevent Dabba from getting any ideas about pounding on the Simonson's door, and demanding
her
Linda
.