Designed to Kill (37 page)
“I’m on my way,” he said and hung up.
He must not have been far away, as he arrived in less than ten minutes. I was standing outside the door and saw him pull in. When he got out of his car, I called down to him.
“Come on up, Sergeant, and take a look at the tape.”
Back inside, I pressed the PLAY button on the VCR. Payne watched intently as the dark-clad figure approached the vehicle, looked directly at the camera, then walked behind the Jeep.
“Looks like he’s squatting down,” I said.
After the man came out from behind the Jeep and quickly walked away, I stopped the tape.
“You sure got a clear shot of his face,” the sergeant said. “We ought to be able to identify him with no problem. Let’s go see if he did anything obvious.”
I brought a flashlight along. We walked around behind the Jeep, shining the light from top to bottom. There was no sign of any tampering.
“Let’s check underneath,” I suggested. “I’ll take a look. No need in getting your uniform dirty.”
I lay on the gravel and scooted my head beneath the rear end. Sweeping the light back and forth, I looked around the gas tank and the muffler. Nothing. Then I moved the beam over to the frame and there it was. What appeared to be a plastic disk, likely stuck on with some sort of adhesive.
“I found it,” I said, sliding out from under the Jeep. I pointed toward the right side. “It’s stuck to the back end of the frame. My guess is it’s a tracking beeper, so they can keep up with where I’m going. Find me when they want to.”
“Let me get an investigator out here,” Payne said. “Maybe they left a fingerprint.”
“Good idea.”
The sergeant headed out on another call, and the investigator arrived some thirty minutes later. He was a slim young man named Wiggins who had curly blond hair and an easy smile. Using gloves and a knife, he removed the disk and dropped the device into an evidence bag, which he marked with the appropriate details. I showed him the video, then gave him the tape.
“You might want to consider some alternate transportation until we get to the bottom of this,” Wiggins said.
“Probably not a bad idea. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything else available.”
“I’ve got a brother-in-law in the car rental business,” he said. “If you’d like, I can get him to deliver you a car in the morning. Or tonight, if you need it.”
I thanked him. “In the morning early would be fine. We plan to attend that
hearing on The Sand Castle accident.”
Wiggins called his sister’s husband and explained the situation. I got on the line and arranged for him to deliver a Camry similar to Jill’s at
The investigator said he would have the plastic device checked for fingerprints and examined by their electronics expert. He promised to let me know as soon as he learned anything.
———
The alarm went off at
. That was unusual for a stay at Perdido Key, but I felt certain this would be a busy day and we needed an early start. After showering and eating breakfast, I called Ted Kennerly at Arnold AFB. The clock showed a little after seven.
“I just called to give you my cell phone number,” I said. “We’ll probably be out most of the day. I wanted you to be able to get me in case your sources come through.”
“One already has,” Ted said. “They’re an hour ahead of us in
New York
. My FBI contact called with the scoop on Perseid, Limited.”
“Great. What did he find?”
“The company is run by a character named Galiano who came out of
New Orleans
. He has close ties to the Mafia. The FBI suspects Perseid is used as a channel for money laundering.”
“Well,” I said, “no doubt that answers one question I’ve had.” I told him about our problems with the two hoods from
Louisiana
.
“If it’s okay with you, Boss, I’ll pass this on to the FBI. They may want to talk to you about it.”
“Fine with me, Ted. I presume you haven’t heard anything yet from your man on the West Coast?”
“No,” Ted said. “But he should be getting back to me sometime this morning.”
I passed on the news to Jill, who listened with a studied frown.
“Looks like you’re close to putting the final nails in Evan Baucus’s coffin,” she said.
“Yeah. But I’ll bet he had plenty of help from Claude Detrich. Remember, we were ambushed Thursday night, while Baucus was still in the Caymans. I’d guess he had been in contact with Detrich, who told him what we were doing.”
“Wouldn’t you also think Detrich had talked with Boz Farnsworth after your encounter with him? Boz knew exactly who you were, but you didn’t tell Detrich the whole story in
Biloxi
. Yet he knew everything when you talked to him Saturday.”
“You’re right on target as usual, babe.”
I had one more call to make. Tracking down Red Tarkington with his pager, I gave him my cell phone number and the same instructions I had given Ted. He promised to call as soon as he had something.
Exactly at eight, Investigator Wiggins’ brother-in-law appeared at our door with the key to a Toyota Camry and paperwork for a three-day rental. As I had instructed, he parked the car in front of the building next door, walked through to the beach side and crossed the sidewalk in back to our building. He then came through to the front and took the elevator to the second floor. If anybody had been watching, they would not likely have connected the man who entered our condo with the one who parked the Camry.
At
, an associate drove up out front and the rental agent got in with him and drove away.
Jill and I were getting ready to leave a few minutes later when Investigator Wiggins called.
“You were right about the disk,” he said. “They could have tracked you from several miles away. We also got a good thumb print where he pressed the gadget against the frame. Sloppy work. He should have used gloves.”
“Did you check him out on AFIS?” I asked. The Automated Fingerprint Identification System was handy within the state and maybe adjoining states. But it wasn’t universal and required querying state by state.
“We found him, one Anthony Ferrari of
New Orleans
. He’s a wise guy with a rap sheet a foot long. And his mug shots match the face on your videotape. Are you willing to prosecute him for stalking and whatever other charges the DA can come up with?”
“You can count on it. I’ll also prosecute in
Orange
Beach
for assault and battery, if you’ll share your findings with them.”
“The other question is, who sent him and his partner, and why?”
“I’m ninety-five percent sure I know,” I said. “But I don’t have the proof as yet. I hope to have something before the day is over.”
“Let me know as soon as possible. The sheriff doesn’t like the idea of mob characters operating in
Escambia
County
. Meanwhile, we’ll be looking for Mr. Ferrari. Take care.”
I intended to.
48
I had checked the videotape earlier and nothing appeared amiss around the Jeep, but we stuck with the plan. We went out through the pool area and crossed over to the other building, then walked through to the front and got in the Camry. We arrived at the office building where the hearing was to be held shortly before nine. While looking for the room, we ran into Walt Sturdivant, who had checked in with us on arrival the night before. He was dressed in
Florida
casual business attire—contrasting blue pants and jacket, white shirt, no tie. The now familiar pipe stuck out of his breast pocket.
“I have the goods here,” he said. He held up a large brown envelope from the software recovery firm, sealed, signed and dated across the seal.
“I hope they’ll accept it and not demand to hear from somebody firsthand,” I said.
Walt pulled out a smaller envelope. “Took care of that, too. This is a sworn, notarized statement from the guy who did the recovery.”
He was sharper than I gave him credit for.
We walked into the room with Walt and saw two TV cameras set up in back. Several rows of folding chairs had been arranged facing a long table. We took seats near the front. A white-haired man in a gray suit, round glasses perched on the end of his nose, sat at the table behind a stack of papers. Three younger men, one dressed casual, the others in suits, stood beside him, talking.
“The old guy in the chair is Mr. Redding, head of the Building Inspections Department,” Walt said. “The blue suit standing is a county attorney. Brown suit is the plans examiner. The other guy is the structural engineer conducting the investigation.”
I looked around and saw Evan Baucus seated between Claude Detrich and a suave-looking man with jet-black hair, younger than Baucus but just as nattily attired. Boz Farnsworth, I noted, sat away from his
Sand
Castle
buddies. Beside him was an elderly man who resembled Santa Claus without the red suit. I presumed he was one of daddy’s high-powered legal advisers. I could identify several of the others in the audience as news people by the note pads they carried.
The hearing finally got under way with a nice speech by Mr. Redding for the benefit of the media and his own political future. He expressed sympathy for the victims and their families and vowed to search out the cause of the accident and determine how it had happened. The latter translated “who was at fault,” but I suspected that would wind up being determined in court. I hadn’t volunteered my services as yet, but I hoped soon to be in a position to influence the decision.
The investigating engineer spoke next. The most significant bit of information he provided was that the balcony showed signs of having been damaged initially by the hurricane back in July. Rains since then had aggravated the problem. However, he did not think the structure would have failed except for the inadequate materials used in its construction. As he continued to discuss his findings, my cell phone rang. I quickly punched the talk button and moved to the back of the room. It was Red Tarkington. I stepped out into the corridor as we began to talk.
“I got your cell phone log,” Red said.
“Great. Anything after the twelve-thirty call from the Key Hole Bar?”
“Yep. One outbound call. And guess whose number?”
“Mine.”
He laughed. “Right again. The call was made at
.”
“I could hug you, my friend. You have just about nailed the coffin shut.”
When I returned to the hearing room, Boz Farnsworth was being put into the hot seat, a folding chair placed in front of the table. His Teddy Bear lawyer sat beside him. I grinned and whispered “Red” as I took my seat beside Jill. I told her I would fill in the details when we had a break.