Reading tells was helpful during an interrogation, but it wasn’t foolproof. If a suspect was on drugs, there was no telling what their body language meant. The same was true of sociopaths, who lied so convincingly that they even fooled themselves.
Environment also played a role. If the environment was controlled — such as a police interrogation room — then the job was easier. If the environment wasn’t controlled, the job often became impossible.
Despite these limitations, reading tells was an important tool in crime fighting, and Daniels excelled at it. She would begin by asking a suspect innocent questions that she already knew the answers to. Then, she’d start tossing bombs, and watch the suspect’s body language and facial expressions to see if they changed.
She’d discovered another tip-off to a suspect’s truthfulness: breathing. Lying quickened a person’s pulse, which caused their breathing to accelerate. Like a pant, you could hear the lie coming out of his mouth.
Jon had a similar tell. When he became agitated, he shut his mouth and breathed heavily through his nose, which produced a faint whistle. She guessed that his nose had once been broken, and left him with a deviated septum.
She could hear that whistle now. Like wind passing through a stand of bamboo, it made a faint whee. Something was definitely bothering him. She guessed he’d talked to the driver of the Charger, and not liked the conversation’s outcome. Yet when she’d asked him, he said it was nothing. Which meant he lied to her.
Daniels considered lying an unpardonable sin. When she caught men in her life doing it, she blew them off. Without trust, there was nothing.
Jon had never lied to her before. He didn’t always answer her questions, but he never lied. So why now? Was it because she was upset, and telling her more bad news would make her mood worse? That was a good answer, and she decided to go with it for now. Later, when they were alone, she would get the truth out of him. If he did it again, he was history.
The church service was mercifully short, as was the graveside service, as her father would have wanted. Had Dad expressed his wishes to Dransfield during one of their fishing trips? It was just like him to control the narrative, even in death.
They drove to her father’s house in her rental. Jon was at the wheel, using Google Maps to guide him. She could still hear his whistling nose and knew that he was upset. She wanted to ask him what had happened with the Charger, but that would mean revealing the tell, and she wasn’t ready to go there just yet. She enjoyed the occasional upper hand.
Jon pulled up the driveway and parked. Her father’s house in Saint Augustine had been purchased not long after her mother’s death, and was not what Beth or her sister had expected. They’d thought he’d sell the family place and buy a condo, but instead, he’d bought a house big enough for his family to pile into during the holidays. Nestled in nature and steps from the beach, it had a multitude of decks and covered porches, plus three extra bedrooms. It had become the family home, and a place she loved visiting.
Melanie had yet to arrive, and the place was quiet. Jon killed the engine and turned in his seat to look at her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“A little better.”
“Strong enough to talk?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I wasn’t up-front with you earlier. I’m sorry.”
There. He’d come out and admitted it. Such a simple thing, yet so important.
“What weren’t you up-front with me about?” she asked.
“I had a chat with the guys in the Charger,” he said. “They were a couple of Russian khuligans, and they were on a first-name basis with your dad. Which begs the question, Why would Martin be mixed up with guys like this? Any idea?”
“Khuligans?”
“Gangsters.”
The question hit her hard. Her father had committed suicide without leaving a note, and there were lingering questions never far from her thoughts. Now Jon had added yet another twist.
“Back up a second,” she said. “Did these two guys tell you they were gangsters?”
“They told me they were landscapers who did work for Martin and came to pay their respects. But the model of vehicle they were driving was way above their pay grade.”
“Maybe the vehicle was borrowed.”
“That occurred to me. At the cemetery I got the name of your dad’s landscaper from Melanie. I found his company page on Facebook on my phone. He has two employees. Neither were the guys in the Charger.”
“So you established the guys that you spoke to weren’t landscapers. How did you make the leap to Russian gangsters?”
“Their tattoos.”
“So you’ve dealt with them before.”
“Russian gangsters started popping up in Fort Lauderdale when I was a cop. They had suitcases filled with cash, and bought strip clubs to launder money. One of the ringleaders got arrested and did a short stint in jail. I heard his arrest was deliberate.”
“The ringleader deliberately got himself busted?”
“He did it to network. Jail is a great place to meet other thugs.”
“Sounds hard-core. How did he make his money?”
“Drugs and extortion. The drugs were sold in the clubs. They rarely strayed out of Fort Lauderdale, which was why running into them here was so strange.”
“Did you get the Charger’s plate?”
“Of course I got the plate.”
“Send it to me.”
As Lancaster texted her the Charger’s plate number, Daniels gazed at the front of the house. The nagging suspicion that there was more to her dad’s death had been there for a while. Her father hadn’t talked about his desire to die, hadn’t left a note, and to end his life had used a World War II vintage handgun that no one had ever seen before. And now, there was a pair of Russian gangsters in the mix.
She decided to start with the Russians. They needed to be run down, and possibly interviewed. The question was, Did she have the emotional fortitude to handle an investigation? She hadn’t been sleeping well, and didn’t feel strong enough to do it. As if reading her thoughts, Jon placed his hand on her wrist, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Want some help with this one?” he asked.
“I need all the help I can get right now,” she said.
“I’m your man.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She likened grief to standing in the surf on a clear blue day, and being knocked over by a powerful wave. Sometimes it took a minute to right yourself; other times, it took much longer.
When she opened her eyes, she discovered that Melanie had arrived. She kissed Jon on the cheek, then got out of the rental to greet her sister’s family.
Chapter 3
“I hope they don’t sell the house,” Nicki said.
Lancaster and the teenager were taking a walk on the beach outside Martin’s home. An annoying flock of screeching gulls circled overhead, hoping for a handout. Otherwise, the beach was deserted.
“You like coming here, don’t you?” he said.
“I sure do. I remember the first Christmas we spent here. We were living in Virginia, and we drove down on a Friday. My mom wasn’t too thrilled about coming. I guess she was still sad over losing her mom, and her dad selling the place up north.”
“How old were you then?” he asked.
“Four.”
“You have a good memory. What was that first time like?”
“It was the best. The outside of the house was strung up with decorations and colored lights, and there was a big Christmas tree in the living room and five stockings hanging over the fireplace. My grandpa pulled out all the stops. Did you ever meet him?”