He had to win.
Leon Kines waited for the office manager to come back to the window with the keys to the Suburban. He didn’t know why the half-door was closed to this one office, but he suspected they didn’t want the Guatemalan car washers wandering in and out.
The thin, balding man named Larry, who always wore the same drab white shirt and blue polyester pants, came back with a clipboard and the keys to the SUV.
The manager said, “Where you going today, Leon?”
“Down to the warehouse in New Smyrna Beach.”
“Good idea to go on a Saturday. Traffic shouldn’t be bad at all except down there by International Speedway Boulevard where that giant flea market is.”
Leon nodded, anxious to get on his way.
“What time do you think you’ll be back?”
Leon shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe two o’clock?”
“Why would it take so long to run down to New Smyrna and back?”
Leon didn’t want to stick around with this jerk all day. He had things to do. “I was going to visit a sick friend at the hospital in Daytona. It won’t take too long and I didn’t think anyone would mind.”
The manager looked around at the empty office behind him and said, “There’s nothing going on around here today. If I’m not here, leave the keys in my mail slot.”
Leon waited for Larry to make a few notes on the clipboard, then accepted the keys. He hustled out toward the rear lot where he knew Lynn was waiting for him. She was a nice girl and certainly pretty, but that wasn’t why he was going out of his way like this. She was the key to getting back in with Bill Hickam. Old Bill might have taken some time off, but guys like that never quit and they never failed. He’d be back in business soon enough and Leon wanted to be right there with him.
He didn’t care what he had to do to help Lynn; he wasn’t cut out to work jobs like this the rest of his life.
John Stallings and Patty had already been to three businesses and checked three Suburbans in the greater Jacksonville area. One of the vehicles was old and rusty and the shop manager said he wouldn’t trust it more than five miles from the business. The second was green and the last was white with a hideous painted logo of a kangaroo carrying building supplies and wearing a work apron that said, WE JUMP ON EVERY JOB.
It was almost ten in the morning when they pulled through the main gate of Thomas Brothers supply company. Everywhere Stallings drove he saw step vans and semi-tractor trailers with the company’s tasteful logo. The complex was massive with administrative offices in the front.
Patty didn’t say a word as Stallings turned onto an access road and headed immediately toward the rear lot where work vehicles would be stored. He didn’t have time to go through nine layers of bureaucracy just to look at a truck. Besides, on a Saturday morning it didn’t look like too many people were in the main building.
The gate was open and Stallings drove into the acres and acres of paved area. A dozen semi tractor trailers were parked in the far corner with several step vans next to them. As he followed the small road toward the rear loading dock he saw a blue Suburban backed into a spot.
Stallings pulled the Impala directly in front of the car as Patty jumped out and trotted to the rear of the Suburban. A few seconds later she was back in the car and said, “Wrong tag number. But the registration says the company owns six Suburbans. Only one has a tag that starts with the letter A.” Patty pointed toward the loading dock and said, “Let’s go ask someone.”
Lynn liked being driven. There were a few times, when she was a kid, that her parents used a driver. Back then she’d had no idea there was a security consideration. Her father tried to do business with the same people over and over, but occasionally he had to work with people outside the normal, polite, marijuana industry. She could envision Leon being one of their drivers.
She also felt like she could trust Leon. Maybe more than she could trust anyone else in the world. She certainly couldn’t tell any of her brothers what she had been up to. But Leon asked few questions and obviously kept his mouth shut. As they were coming up to the exit in Daytona she said, “Leon, do you have any idea what you’re helping me with?”
“I’m not an idiot. I know it has something to do with your brother, right?”
Lynn nodded. She was surprised he was so accurate on this first guess. “How’d you know?”
“I saw who you were watching the night I found you in the bar. I heard rumors that someone set your brother up and they listed his cause of death as an accident. I’m sure your father blames himself. He never wanted any of you kids to go into the business or be touched by it in any way.”
“You’re very insightful.”
Leon shrugged and turned his weather-beaten face toward her. “You have to be to survive in this world. If I didn’t know it before, four years in the federal pen in Atlanta and a year in a halfway house taught me how to read people.” He looked back on the road and said very casually, “It wouldn’t hurt if you give me some details. It’s not like I’m going to blab to anyone.”
“Let’s say I’m dealing with it because the cops won’t.”
“The old street justice. I’m very familiar with it. And it’s as good a reason as any to help you.”
Lynn didn’t answer. She was so impressed with his grasp of the situation, she realized how valuable he could be. She also realized he still had contacts in the law enforcement world. He wouldn’t have been able to set up Dale as easily as he did if he wasn’t trusted by someone in law enforcement. That made him a liability. Maybe one she could live with.
But probably not.
FORTY-NINE
Now that they were inside talking to a manager, Patty took the initiative. She didn’t want to risk Stallings getting annoyed or impatient and threatening an employee of a big company like this. But the fleet manager, Larry, was very accommodating. He immediately invited them behind his counter to sit and have a cup of coffee and ask him any questions they wanted. Larry was the kind of guy who looked older than he really was. His thin face and bald head and unfortunate choice of plain white short-sleeved shirt made him appear closer to forty-five, but Patty realized he was only about thirty.
Larry said, “We only have one other blue Suburban and it’s on the road right now.”
Patty said, “Where is it?”
Larry looked down at the clipboard and said, “Volusia County.”
Patty said, “Was anyone driving it Tuesday afternoon?”
Larry flipped through a couple of pages on his clipboard and said, “Yeah, it was gone from eleven until three-thirty. It may have been on the lot before that if the guy who checked it out might have washed it too.”
Stallings said, “Did the same person check it out both days?”
Larry didn’t need to look at his clip board for that. “Yes, sir. A guy named Leon Kines. He does general stuff and maintains the grounds and vehicles.”
The name rang a bell with Patty. She ignored the manager for a moment while she opened the lid to her metal notebook case and shuffled through some of the pages the DEA had provided Stallings. She froze when she saw one profile under the name Leon Kines. She pulled the sheet of paper with the photograph in the corner and silently showed it to Stallings, who displayed no emotion but gave her a slight nod.
She held up the photograph to the manager and said, “Is this the man who checked out the Suburban both days?”
The manager took a closer look, then appeared stunned. He just nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, that’s him.”
Now Stallings stepped in and said, “Where exactly in Volusia County was he going?”
“We have a warehouse in New Smyrna Beach. He said he had to pick up some fencing material stored down there.” Then the man snapped his fingers and added, “He also said he was going to visit a friend in the hospital in Daytona.”