Harry gave his adopted father as strong a smile as he could muster, but it faded quickly. “I appreciate all you’ve done, Jocko. Now it’s just between her and me. She may have done enough time for what she did to me, but it sure isn’t enough for what she did to Jimmy.”
Harry sat on the lanai listening to the surf move against the shore, the gentle, soothing lap of water against sand that masked all the carnivorous acts of violence only a few feet farther out. He had grown up on the water, Jocko being an avid fisherman, and the murderous nature of the sea had quickly fascinated him. As a young boy he had watched schools of bait fish being chopped apart by marauding game fish and dolphins, the sea birds swooping in to pick up the bits and pieces left behind. Later, he had learned to dive and had gone deep below to witness the even greater carnage that took place beneath the placid blue water of the gulf. It had been an inspiring and sometimes frightening sight. As his mind began to race he imagined his mother swimming out there with the other predators, his mother and Darlene’s killer swimming side-by-side, each looking for prey-one trying to satisfy her perverse view of Jesus, the other pursuing some perverse form of revenge.
“Hi, Harry. Are you busy?”
Jeanie’s voice brought him back. “No, I’m not busy at all.” He rose from his chair and unlatched the screen door.
“You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Not a thing. I’ve just been sitting here thinking about the gulf and all the killer fish cruising along beneath the surface.”
“You think too much about killing, Harry. Think about the beautiful things out there, like dolphin.”
“They’re one of the biggest killers… very organized, very methodical.” He watched her shake her head and smiled at her.
“You’re impossible,” she said.
“Yes, I am.”
He returned to his chair and she surprised him by slipping onto his lap. “Feeling a bit forward tonight, are we?”
“Yes. Does it make you feel threatened?”
“Not a bit. There’s nothing like a good, forward woman after a hard day at the office.”
“And any forward woman will do?”
“I didn’t say that. I might have thought it, but I did not say it.”
Jeanie jabbed a finger into his ribs making him jump. “You keep that up and I won’t sleep in your bed tonight.”
“Then I’ll stop immediately.”
She placed her head against his shoulder. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” she asked at length.
“Everything’s fine. Better now that you’re here.”
“Good.”
Bobby Joe visibly shuddered when he looked through the spy hole in his front door and saw the man standing outside. He lived in a small apartment above the garage at his father’s home. It had been one of the conditions of joining his daddy’s ministry, being close by so he could be watched. It was something about which the old man had been very forthcoming. And on top of it, he paid his father rent for the privilege.
Bobby Joe looked through the spy hole again and thought about not opening the door, but his car was outside, the lights in the apartment were on, and he wouldn’t put it past the man to just kick the door open if he tried to ignore him. He put a smile on his face and swung the door back.
“Hey there, I was just about ready to climb into bed.”
The man brushed past him, ignoring what he had said, then turned and hit him with an icy stare. “Tell me what you told the cops today.”
“I didn’t tell them much of anything. They told me stuff, like how two of the bimbos at the Peek-a-Boo were able to eyeball me as somebody they saw sittin’ at the bar with Darlene.”
“Nobody asked you to give up any names?”
“Well, yeah, that detective, Harry Doyle, did. Somebody gave him a copy of the church bulletin where my daddy was callin’ on everybody to keep an eye on Darlene, so he figures it was somebody from the church who killed her.” Bobby Joe was talking fast, his nerves kicking in. He wanted to say less, say as little as possible, but this man just made him too nervous. “My daddy came up with an idea. You see, Darlene once told me about this cop who was pressing her to put out, and how much he scared her, so Daddy thinks it would be good to lay that name on Doyle, even maybe on the sheriff himself, and ask why Doyle is investigating me and other good, God-fearing church people and nobody’s investigating this cop. He’s gonna have the church’s lawyer call him on it.”
“Who’s the cop?” the man asked.
“All I remember is that his name’s Nick, and that he’s a homicide detective.”
The man nodded slowly. “That’s very clever. Your daddy is a very smart man.” And he just bought you another day on this earth, he thought.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Harry arrived at the office at seven a.m., hoping to get a jump start on the day. As soon as he slipped behind his desk a message stared back at him, bringing a smile to his lips. It was from Jim Morgan asking for a meeting in the late afternoon and saying that he was headed out to check some leads and would meet up with Vicky in an hour. The time on the message was six-thirty a.m. He glanced across the room at Nick Benevuto’s empty desk. Benevuto would be in sometime later to slog through the paper shuffling he’d been assigned while on desk duty. He’d essentially become Diva Walsh’s assistant, although without a voice in who was assigned what cases. It was a humiliating assignment, performed each day under the eyes of his peers, a punishment police departments freely handed out to anyone who fell into disfavor.
He took some time to reconsider Benevuto as a suspect. Vicky and Jim were so certain he was good for the murder, and he certainly had motive and opportunity and had even tried to conceal his connection to the victim. But something about it didn’t speak to Harry. It was all too easy. If a homicide cop killed someone it shouldn’t be that easy to spot him. He knew exactly how the investigation would proceed; where the investigating detectives would look. And Nick was one of those investigating detectives, so hiding his involvement should have been a piece of cake.
The phone rang, breaking his train of thought.
“Harry, is that you?”
It was Jeanie, her voice filled with panic. Thoughts of her husband jumped into Harry’s mind. “Yeah, babe, what is it?”
“Somebody broke into the house, Harry. I woke up and found him going through your stuff, your police stuff, files and things.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. But he had a gun, Harry. He told me to get back in the bedroom or he’d kill me. When I turned to go, he hit me with it, knocked me kind of loopy.” She sobbed into the receiver.
“Is he gone?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Call 911. Tell them whose house it is. The Clearwater cops will get there fast.”
“I already did.”
“Okay, I’m on my way. I’m also calling my dad. His name’s Jocko. He only lives ten minutes away.”
“Please hurry, Harry. I’m scared.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, maybe less.”
He ran into Pete Rourke on his way out and explained where he was going. Before he reached the parking lot he had already connected with his adoptive father. He hit the back door and sprinted through the parked cars. When he reached his own car he saw his twelve-year-old gangsta protege coming toward him.
“Wassup, Doyle? Where you runnin’, or is somebody chasin’ your ass?”
“Get in the car,” Harry snapped. “I got a job for you.”
Rubio Marti jumped into the passenger seat as Harry slid behind the wheel. “This a payin’ job?” he asked.
“Is there any other kind?”