Maximum Bob (6 page)

Someone, Gary believed, had brought this gator. It did not know where the hell it was or want to be here lying on a cement floor. There were nicks in its hide, a mark on its skull, a dent, it looked like, where someone had given it a good lick. He aimed the Beretta at the spot behind the skull, the muzzle a foot away, and fired one shot. The gator flattened and lay still.

The deputies waited for him to come out to the yard before they filed in, each one giving him a look before approaching the gator to poke it with a toe.

•          •          •

“I
think it was brought here,” Gary said, standing with his back to the kitchen sink. “It could be malicious mischief we’re looking at, criminal negligence, or it could be more serious.”

The judge had come into the kitchen dressed for business in a gray suit and maroon tie. He said, “Wait,” got a glass from one cupboard, a bottle of Jim Beam from another, and poured himself a good one, eight o’clock in the morning. He went to the refrigerator for ice, then moved Gary out of the way to add a splash of water. Now he took a couple of deep pulls on his highball, raised the glass and said, “Ahhh, that’s better. It’s been quite a day. An alligator walks into my house and my wife walks out. She says, ‘That’s it, I’m leaving.’”

“I could see she was scared,” Gary said. “But she’ll get over it. I mean, you don’t think she’ll actually move out, do you?”

“That’s what she says.”

Gary watched the judge sip his drink. He didn’t seem too upset.

“This is the second time it’s happened to her. She isn’t going for three, I know.”

“You had one here before?”

“No, it was up at Weeki Wachee, years ago. My wife was a mermaid at the time I met her. An alligator swam into her act one day and she hasn’t been the same since.” The judge paused to take a drink. “It did something to her, I don’t know what. See, then another one comes along, the poor woman can’t handle it. I said, ‘Well, hon, it’s up to you.’ At least she can go someplace there aren’t any alligators. Maybe in time… I don’t know, people do have phobias. Some are scared to death of cats. A cat walks in the room, they’re petrified.”

There was something here Gary didn’t understand. He said, “Yeah, but everybody’s afraid of alligators. You’d better be. I mean it’s normal.”

The judge had turned and was gazing out the window, at deputies appearing out of the trees, poking through his plants.

“What’re they looking for?”

Gary edged up behind the judge to look over his shoulder. He said, “I think the alligator was brought here.” Then had to step back when the judge turned to face him.

“Why?”

“Well, I did notice driving in, there’s a canal over on the other side of your property where it might’ve come from…”

The judge said, “I don’t see there’s any question about it. That canal hooks into a network of canals. One or the other will take you right up to Okeechobee.”

“I know,” Gary said, “but I can’t see a gator that size climbing the spoil bank and coming all this distance through your orange grove away from water.”

“You’re an alligator expert,” the judge said. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“No sir,” Gary said, “but I do know they live in water and never go too far away from it. That’s why I think it was brought here. And if it was, its mouth would’ve been taped shut and its legs bent up behind its back and taped together. The legs hinge in a way you can do that. So I wondered, when they got here and pulled the tape off, if they might not’ve just thrown it aside.”

The judge half turned toward the window again.

“That’s what they’re looking for, tape?”

“Duct tape or electrical tape. Either one.”

“You find any?”

“Not yet.”

The judge nodded and took a sip of his drink.

Gary said, “You didn’t hear anything last night?”

“Not a sound.”

“I was thinking if they drove in with it, came past the house… Maybe your wife heard something.”

“No, she didn’t either.”

“Could I speak to her?”

“You’re asking me, can you have a conversation with her about
al
ligators? In her condition?”

“I wondered if she might’ve heard a truck.”

“Jesus Christ, but you keep beating on it. I just told you she didn’t hear a thing. Now we’re through here. I’m going to work.”

Gary said, “Yes sir,” and paused and said, “Can I ask you something else? It’s unrelated. Well, in a way it is.” The judge, with the glass raised to finish his drink, didn’t answer. “When I first got here,” Gary said, “I told one of the deputies to go get a car. In case the gator came out after us.” The judge lowered the glass and was looking directly at him now. “Right after I said it, I heard a voice that sounded to me like a young black female, you know, kind of a high voice? Repeating pretty much what I said.”

Gary waited.

The judge stared at him.

Gary didn’t care for his expression. Ice-cold.

The judge said, “What’s your name again?”

“It’s Sergeant Gary Hammond.”

“You like detective work?”

“Yes sir, very much.”

“Better than driving a squad car.”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you know Colonel McKenna was a buddy of mine?”

“No sir, I didn’t.”

The judge said, “Well, you do now, boy. When I tell you we’re through here, it means we’re through, you don’t ask any more questions. You understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“The alligator wasn’t brought here as a prank or otherwise, to cause anybody harm. It came out of that canal all by itself. So there’s no need of you to write up an Offense Report.”

Gary said, “I still have to tell Colonel McKenna what happened.”

“That’s all right,” the judge said, “long as you don’t color it.” He smiled then, his mouth did while his eyes remained cold. “Tell Bill for me he should’ve sent the dog-catcher.”

Gary said, “Yes sir, I will,” paused a few seconds wanting to bite his tongue, but had to ask it. “Judge, has your life ever been threatened?”

8

T
here was a judge friend of Bob Gibbs, now retired from the bench, who described Palm Beach as “an island off the coast of the United States.” Bob Gibbs agreed one hundred percent. Cross Lake Worth east and you were in a different country, the top end of the Gold Coast where the rich and famous lived. But you know what? Go the other way, drive west out beyond Twenty Mile Bend and, man, you were in a different
world
, the Glades, bottomland America with a smell of muck and fish and half a million acres of sugarcane off on the left side of the road there. He liked Palm Beach, enjoyed being an honored guest at the balls and functions, eating free. But never felt the kick that coming out to the Glades gave him. Why was that? His judge friend who’d retired and moved up to the Panhandle said, “‘Cause you’re a redneck at heart. Why do you think? If you’d been born here you’d be moonlighting gators for hides and meat instead of sitting on the bench, an ill-tempered judge.”

Recalling that got Bob Gibbs in touch with his feelings, as Leanne would say, aware of a different kind of kick this trip. One right in the gut. Anger mixed with a foreboding something messy could come of this alligator business. What in the hell was Dicky Campau thinking that he delivered it alive?

They were to meet this evening at Slim’s Fish Camp on Torry Island. Cross the bridge over the rim canal and you were there, in the marshy lower end of Lake Okeechobee, not too far from Belle Glade. Bob Gibbs found the frog gigger inside Slim’s visiting with friends and pulled him out into the dark, over by the Coca-Cola machine.

“How many times did I tell you. It was suppose to be a dead one?”

“It was, when I left it.” Dicky looking bewildered at the thought of its having come alive. “Judge, me and my wife took the truck, figure to run along the dike. We spot her in the canal right there by the cleaning dock eating on some softshell turtle. I thought we might have to go clear to Canal Point, but there she was. I shine a light on her, see about eight ten inches between the eyes? I know she’s a big’n.”

Bob Gibbs said, “What was our deal? Deliver the son of a bitch
dead
.” He couldn’t say it enough.

“Judge, it
was
. Ask my wife. I used a snatch hook on a quarter-inch line. I caught her clean, one throw, tied off around my trailer ball and pulled her out of there. I don’t mean she come willing, she fought it, pretty near tore the trailer hitch clean off my truck. I said to my wife, ‘We got us one.’ Next, I hit that gator over the head with a ten-pound sledge. One stroke, she let out her air and never made another sound.”

“It came back to life,” Bob Gibbs said. “Walked through my screen porch and into my house.”

“Prob’ly smelled your dog.”

“It
ate
the dog.”

“Judge, I told you when you called, I hunt frog. Outside of that gator they arrested me for I ain’t trapped one in years.”

Bob Gibbs thought a minute, hearing insects in the night and the sound of country music coming from Slim’s.

“You know that canal by my place? I’m saying that’s what it came out of.”

“It could’ve.”

“I want to know for sure.”

“It’s possible she swum down there.”

“And came into my yard.”

“I guess. Listen, Judge? You know my wife’s pretty good at estimating. She looked at that gator and saw about four hundred dollars in the hide. She figured the meat, five bucks a pound, could bring another hundred. What I’m saying, that was part of the deal, Judge. You call me to pick her up afterwards and she’s mine. Am I right?”

“And nobody would know about it but us,” Bob Gibbs said. “That’s right too, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“I stopped by the Helen Wilkes after court this evening? Everybody in the entire goddamn place knew about it. They’re even speculating it was put there to get me. And you know why? ‘Cause the son of a bitch was
alive
. ‘Cause I had to call the sheriff to come
kill
it.”

Dicky Campau said, “So you don’t have it no more, huh?”

9

K
athy Baker was here because the detective, Sergeant Gary Hammond, had called the office wanting to talk to her about Dale Crowe Junior. She told him she was just walking out the door, but had to be at the Detention Center this afternoon and could stop by later. The county jail was right behind the sheriff’s building. He said fine. She had met Gary Hammond once before, but he didn’t seem to remember.

Louis Falco, a sergeant with the TAC unit, was also here. Kathy knew him slightly from the Polo Lounge, an after-work hangout off Military Trail, but had never seen Gary Hammond there. She had a feeling he didn’t drink or smoke and went to a Protestant church on Sunday. But a neat-looking guy, lean build, no ring. White button-down shirt and print burgundy necktie, very nice. She wondered if cop groupies out at the Polo Lounge would go for Gary Hammond or think he was impersonating a police officer. He looked more like a lawyer than a guy in law enforcement. Mid-thirties, say, but no ring. The only thing that marred his neat image, but a nice touch, his hair was kind of long, dark brown, down over the collar of his shirt.

Gary Hammond was telling them, “If you ran the names of all the bad guys convicted by Judge Gibbs who are back on the street and wouldn’t mind taking a whack at him, you could paper this room with the printouts.”

Kathy let her gaze wander from Gary’s desk to take in the size of the squad room with its rows of desks, walls and ceiling a dull yellow. But with those glass-front offices all around the four sides, there wasn’t a whole lot of wall space. How many names was he actually talking about? Kathy didn’t ask. The guy liked his wallpaper analogy and was trying to make a point.

He liked it so much he was taking it next door to Sex Crimes saying, “If it was possible to count all the bad guys still
in
doing a hard fall, but have friends on the outside they could get to pay the judge back, we’d have to use the walls in there too.”

Kathy didn’t know about the walls in Sex Crimes. She did recall they had lamps on the desks and artificial flowers. Part of that squad room was Child Abuse.

Gary Hammond moved on saying, “If you consider just the wackos and rockheads that pass through Gibbs’s courtroom every day of the week. Or it could be a guy never had even a parking ticket, all of a sudden he draws time on a DUI manslaughter, got drunk and killed somebody with his car. The guy loses his job, his family, his life is ruined and it’s all this judge’s fault.”

What he was actually saying, Kathy decided, it could be anybody. Including Dale Crowe, for some reason singled out or she wouldn’t be here. Though she still didn’t see what Dale had to do with the alligator.

Lou Falco didn’t know why he was here either, asking, “What do you want
me
to do about it?”

Kathy wondered that too. This didn’t seem to be a job for TAC. The Tactical unit specialized in undercover work, surveillance, narcotics investigations… But also dignitary protection. That could be it.

Gary said he was looking down the road, trying to anticipate what might happen next. “I’m wondering if the judge shouldn’t have a watch put on him. Nothing elaborate, park a green-and-white at his house, drive him to court…”

Falco said, “In case another alligator gets after him? You don’t even know it was put there.”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure.”

“Even if it was, you can’t call it attempted homicide. People get alligators in their swimming pools all the time, they don’t call TAC. You play golf, don’t you? Any course around here, walk in the rough you’re liable to step on an alligator. Listen, I don’t want to tell you your business, but at this point the only lead you can get is from the judge. What’s he say about it? Anybody threaten him lately?”

“I asked him and he threw me out,” Gary said. “We’re no longer on speaking terms. All I got from the judge, nothing happened during the night they were aware of. He wouldn’t let me talk to his wife.”

Kathy said, “Did you see her?”

“Yeah, but that’s all.”

“What’s she look like?”

“Attractive, blond, thirties, putting on weight. Scared to death of alligators, according to the judge. So afraid one might come back, she left.” His gaze moved to Falco. “But there’s no reason to think it was meant for the wife. Not when you have a highly qualified potential victim like Judge Gibbs.”

So much for the wife. Kathy said, “You know where she went?” Gary was looking at her again. “You said she left.”

“I have no idea.”

“You could ask him.”

Now he shook his head. “Not a chance.”

She wanted to talk some more about the wife, a woman who believed she was a twelve-year-old black girl. Bring it up for whatever it was worth…

But now Gary was saying, “The judge tells McKenna it came out of the canal. He doesn’t want to hear any more about it. McKenna says fine. But then he pulls my squad off cold homicides and tells me to look into it. Only, he says, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“You tell him,” Falco said, “about papering the walls?”

“We’re starting out with the most recent ones that seem likely. Offenders the judge sent away who got their release in the past couple of months.” Gary’s hand touched a file folder on the neat desk, everything in place. “DOC sent us a list this morning we’re checking out. The reason Ms. Baker’s here, she has a probation violator who threatened the judge. When was it? The day before yesterday.”

Kathy said, “What are you talking about?”

Gary was looking at her until Falco got up from his chair, ready to leave, saying, “You want my opinion, Gary? You’re way ahead of yourself. McKenna says don’t make a big deal out of it? That should tell you he doesn’t see it as a hit. But he has to put somebody on it to cover his ass, just in case. So you go through the motions, take McKenna at his word and don’t strain yourself.”

Gary was shaking his head. “McKenna said that because the judge didn’t want any publicity. But you saw the
Post
this morning? Gibbs’s picture on the front page?”

“And I saw how they played it,” Falco said, “called him gator bait, right? How’d they put it?”

“‘Has Judge Become “Gator Bait”?’” Kathy said.

Gary was looking at her again. “You read it?” She nodded and he said, “A reporter, guy I’ve known all my life, calls me, wants to know what happened. I told him we have no idea how the alligator got there, if it was delivered or came on its own. They put in the paper, ‘Investigators speculate whether sentence has been passed on Judge Gibbs.’ I didn’t even say well, it’s a possibility. But they want to believe it was an attempt on his life.”

“They’re having fun with it, that’s all,” Falco said, “‘cause the guy’s an asshole. Think about it. You want to do somebody, there better ways’n with an alligator. I’ll see you.”

•          •          •

G
ary told her his friend at the
Post
asked if he could get a picture of the alligator, wanting to know what happened to it. Kathy had the feeling he would keep talking about the alligator if she let him. But then listening to him she thought of a question and asked, “Who killed it?”

“I did.”

“You shot it?”

He nodded, didn’t say another word about the alligator and now she asked him, “Where did you hear Dale Crowe threatened Gibbs?”

“I was told by a deputy who got it from Gibbs’s bailiff. Crowe said, ‘You’ll see me again.’ Or, ‘You’ll get yours.’ Something like that.”

“You haven’t seen a transcript?”

“They’re getting me one.”

“Dale said, ‘If you think you’re through with me you’re full of shit.’ Is that a threat?”

“It could be.”

“How many shots did it take, to kill the alligator?”

“One.”

Kathy stared at him and he stared back at her. “What did you use?”

He leaned to one side to touch his hip. “This.”

She paused before saying, “Dale was mad. He got state time and doesn’t deserve it.”

“Battery on a police officer, that’s a third-degree five-year felony, any way you look at it.”

“You like sending people away?”

“It’s what I do.”

“Yeah, but do you like it?”

He took his time, maybe thinking about it. He didn’t look like a guy who shot alligators or collared offenders. He looked like… a nice guy. He said, “If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t be here.” And asked her, “You know where Dale was the night before last?”

“With his uncle. They got home about nine.”

It seemed to surprise him. “You sure?”

“I was there. You know his uncle, Elvin Crowe?”

She watched Gary stare at her as though the name was familiar, one he’d seen or heard recently. He had nice eyes. She liked blue eyes after seeing brown ones most of her life. His were a deep blue. She didn’t care too much for those pale, light-blue ones, killer eyes, the kind Keith had. Gary had a file folder open now, reading a Department of Corrections printout that listed the names of offenders who’d recently gotten their release. The one he had mentioned. The list went all the way down the page, names coming out of the forty prisons and correctional facilities in the state of Florida.

The other night at Dale’s house Elvin offered her a beer. If she wanted something else he’d send Dale to the store for it. Elvin polite, talking Southern to her in that syrupy way, Dale not saying a word. She told Elvin no thanks. No socializing with probationers. She told Dale she’d see him tomorrow and got out of there. Stopped by yesterday, he wasn’t home and hadn’t called the office. She had spent most of today looking for him, asking around.

“Elvin Crowe,” Gary said. “I remember Elvin, shot a guy out on the Turnpike. He’s one of yours?”

“One of seventy-three or seventy-four.”

“If Gibbs sent him up…”

“He did,” Kathy said.

“Then he fits the profile. Both of them. Dale and Elvin.”

“Everybody fits your profile,” Kathy said.

He smiled and it surprised her. She had him down as an achiever, a guy who took his work very seriously. He was so neat. Look at his desk. But the smile was real.

He said, “I try to keep an open mind. Everyone’s dirty till they prove they aren’t.”

No smile now, playing with her. He was quite a nice-looking guy. She liked his eyes, she liked his mouth too, his hair… She said, “You’ll love Elvin. Wait till you meet him.”

“I like them both. You know where they went that night?”

“They said they took a ride.”

“Out to the Glades by any chance?”

“Palm Beach.”

“No alligators in Palm Beach. Or not the kind I have in mind. I still like your two guys. When do you see them again?”

“I have to check on Dale every day. Four to go.”

“He’s behaving himself?”

Kathy hesitated. “I haven’t seen him since the other night.”

“That puts him in violation, doesn’t it?”

“He’s already facing five years.”

Gary raised both hands. “He’s yours. You don’t want to violate him, don’t.”

“I leave here, I’ll stop by their house.”

“Elvin lives there too?” Gary looked down at his sheet. “I have a Belle Glade address for him. If he’s from out there, I imagine he knows something about alligators.”

“I have to go,” Kathy said, and got up.

“I wouldn’t mind tagging along, but I have to be somewhere at five.”

She didn’t want him along anyway, not if she got a chance to sit down with Dale, find out what he was thinking. Still, she said, “That’s too bad. You might’ve had a chance to meet Elvin.”

He smiled, just a little. “You want to see if I can handle him, don’t you?”

Kathy shrugged, trying to look innocent. “Why would it be a problem?”

He got up from the desk saying he’d walk her out.

He did have a gun and had shot an alligator. She saw the Beretta as he slipped on the jacket of his navy-blue suit, his shield pinned to his belt. Now the gun was hidden and he could be a young slim-cut executive. He put on sunglasses. She said, “Pretty cool,” and meant it, head to toe.

Walking along wide yellow hallways he became a tour guide talking in a quiet tone about forensics, serology, the use of lasers in latent-print detection, not his areas but he knew things and was probably a very good cop. She mentioned her brothers, Tony and Ray, into Miami street life and dope busts. Freeze, motherfuckers. Do you ever say that? He said, I think I have. What was she trying to do, talking like that? They passed a workout room and he asked if she was into aerobics, any of that. She said no, but my ex-husband ran five miles every other day while I cleaned the bathroom. He smiled but didn’t ask any questions or say if he was married or not. Or if he worked out. In the lobby a uniformed captain, crew cut, white body-shirt stretched over his belly, said, “Sergeant?” almost past them and they stopped. “I believe you could use a haircut there.”

Gary said, “Yes sir, I’m getting one today. You know I always try to meet your expectations.”

Was he serious?

Kathy wasn’t sure. Maybe the captain wasn’t either the way he stared at Gary, not saying a word. Then gave them a nod, walked on, and they went through the entrance, Gary holding the door for her. They stopped on the walk leading to the parking area and he said, “Well,” facing the sun behind Kathy and squinting a little.

She said, “Were you putting him on?”

“Who, the captain?”

“You always want to live up to his expectations.”

“He believed me.”

“Sure, what’s he going to say? Listen, you want a haircut, I’ll give you one.”

“You know how?”

“I used to cut my brothers’ hair all the time. I could do yours easy.”

“Yeah, when?”

“Call me at the Omar Road office, make an appointment.”

He was smiling again. “I’m glad we got a chance to meet.”

“You don’t remember the other time?”

Look at his face. He had no idea what she meant.

“Last August in Riviera Beach, by the projects. You were driving that unmarked Dodge everybody knows is a cop car. I’m walking along…”

He was smiling now.

“You pull over and stop me, want to know if I’m looking for crack or already bought some. You ask to see my ID…”