Death Among the Mangroves (20 page)

“Really? Interesting.”

“You didn't know?”

Troy shook his head. “I know who it is, who had applied. Didn't know the rest.”

Mayor Groud wasted no time with formalities. He gaveled the meeting into order and announced that the status of the temporary director of public safety was up for discussion.

Rivers stood first. “I just told Troy that I had come here tonight to thank him. He got me promoted to sergeant. I worked with him on the Barrymore murder last July and August. The man is a genius, literally. I never saw anyone put facts together so quick.”

Rivers sat. “That was a little overblown, wasn't it?” Troy whispered. “You were in line for promotion anyway.”

“They don't know that. Good luck. Gotta get back to work.” Rivers shook Troy's hand, then stood and left the room.

Norris Compton was up. “I screwed up my life last summer,” he said to the crowd. “You all know about it. I was looking at twenty years, maybe, in prison. Chief Adam and Mayor Groud straightened me out. The chief had me do my community service in his office and I'm still in there several times a week now, as a volunteer. The mayor took me on for a few months as a mate on his boat and I never had so many filthy jobs to do in my entire life before.” The audience laughed. Lester Groud grinned.

“I was an accountant, before I retired. Then I was turning into a drunk. Now I've got useful work to do here in Mangrove Bayou and I know how to fish too.” There were cheers from the crowd. “And more,” Compton said, “Troy talked me and Bob Dundee into starting a taxi service. It's no money-maker but it gets us both out of the house and gets you folks who need transportation to the mall or a restaurant or even up to Naples now and then.” There were more cheers. The lack of a taxi service had long been a problem.

“Anyone else?” Groud asked.

Judge Stider stood. Troy hadn't seen him in the crowd before. “I'm Judge Hans Stider, of the Twentieth Circuit Court,” he said. “That man,” he pointed at Troy, “has been harassing my entire family. For a policeman he shows a total disregard for the law. I want him fired.” Stider sat down.

“Another voice heard from,” Groud said. “Isn't the Chief, here, investigating the case of the missing girl? He or his officers have talked to a lot of people. That's not exactly harassment.”

“It is when you're innocent,” Stider said. “Find another police chief.”

“Ahem. Director of public safety, actually,” Dr. Duell said. “Technically, in charge of police, fire and ambulance services.”

“Thank you for that clarification, Doctor Duell,” Groud said. There were a few laughs from the crowd. “Anyone else?”

Milo stood up. Groud looked at him. “In the interests of full disclosure,” Groud said, “Officer Milo Binder is my sister's kid. I got him his job with the police. Lord only knows what will come out of his mouth now. Go ahead, Milo.”

“I thought Chief Adam was a total jerk when he came here,” Milo said. “Actually, it was me who was the jerk. And he put up with it. And he saved my girlfriend's life, in the middle of that hurricane last July, with the most incredible pistol shot I've ever seen. You all know what I'm talking about but you weren't there like I was. I mean, that man can shoot.”

June Dundee was standing. “What is this?” Groud said. “He got the whole police department here shilling for him?”

“I got just one thing to add,” June said. “Besides getting my retired and bored husband out of the damn house and off my case, Troy made me stop swearing. Or at least not so fucking much.” There were cheers from the audience.

Groud called on his fellow council members. Howard Duell spoke in his sorrowful voice. “I'm Doctor Howard Parkland Duell, councilman and principal of the high school and junior high school…”

“For Christ's sake, we all know that,” someone shouted.

Duell went on. “All this very emotional testimony ignores one salient fact. Troy Adams can't run a proper police department. I thought it was a mistake to hire him in the first place, even on a temporary basis. My fears have been realized. He's in over his head. He has no concept of financial responsibility. He's run up overtime on several occasions. He paid his officers per diem and overtime to drive their own cars up to Marco Island on one occasion. He's installed expensive exercise equipment in the police station and spent a lot of money on totally unnecessary repainting and furniture. He has offended our most prestigious citizens, members of the Osprey Yacht Club, where they have to let him in as an honorary member. He had the town buy new uniforms for his people when there was nothing wrong with what they already had.”

Duell shook his head and looked even more sorrowful. “Frankly, we can't afford to keep Troy Adam around much longer. I'll be voting to not give him a contract and to look elsewhere.”

Groud looked at Troy. “You want to answer any of that?”

Troy shook his head. “I wouldn't dignify Doctor Councilman Principal Howard Parkland Duell's opinions with any response.”

“Well, I sure as hell will,” Groud said. “Troy donated the exercise equipment and makes his people use it. He donated most of the uniforms too; we only paid for some of them. When one of our poorer neighbors got her tires flattened by a vandal, Troy whipped out his credit card and bought her four new tires. He does things like that. He takes the ‘serve' part of his job as seriously as the ‘protect' part. And we all know that he spent money last summer to solve a crime and deal with a hurricane. We have an emergency fund for just such things. “Max, you want to say anything?”

Maxwell Reed looked up. He was the quiet one who had gone along with Groud's initial vote to hire Troy but who had not since expressed any opinion one way or the other. “I don't think I have enough information yet to make a decision on this,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Groud said. “You agreed with me to hire him for six months and then vote to keep him or look elsewhere.”

“I know. And, on the surface, he seems to have done a good job. But Doctor Duell has doubts and I think those deserve some consideration too…” There was a chorus of boos from the crowd. “And now the esteemed judge says that Chief Adam is overbearing. That needs investigating. So I'm not going to vote one way or the other today. Can't we just extend his probationary contract for six more months?”

Groud stared at Reed. The muttering in the audience grew louder. After a long moment Groud nodded and spoke. “I make a motion to extend Troy Adam's probationary contract for six months or until such time as we vote to make him permanent.”

“I object,” Duell said. “We need a straight up or down vote tonight. Get rid of the man.”

“I second the motion,” Reed said. He and Groud voted yes, Duell voted no and looked angry about it.

“Now that we settled that for the moment,” Groud said, “Troy, tell us what progress you're making on the missing girl. Half the town's looking for her, thanks to that man's reward offer.”

Troy stood. There were so many television camera lights aimed his way that he could feel the heat at thirty feet. “I do have leads. I'm following up on them. I'm not going to disclose those publicly tonight. But hang in there with me a little longer. And, frankly, I wish our good citizens would stop running around like a pack of jackals looking for the poor girl's body. You aren't looking anyplace we haven't already been and you're just making it harder for my officers to do their jobs.”

Dr. Duell spoke up. “Can you guarantee that you will find that girl without citizen help?”

“Of course not. We did search, with citizen help that I greatly appreciate, earlier. But we're past that point now and don't need a lot of distractions.”

“In my opinion…” Duell said.

“Listen, Doctor Councilman Principal Howard Parkland Duell,” Troy interrupted, “I don't need your opinion. You're starting to bore me. And now, if no one has anything specifically for me, I need to get back to the station and back to doing what I'm paid to do for the citizens of Mangrove Bayou.”

Troy walked out of the room and down the stairs to the door that opened onto 5th Street. It occurred to him that this made twice that he had walked out of a meeting while Duell was talking. He stood a moment and took a few deep breaths. He needed to not let Duell get to him so much, he thought. On the street he could still hear the shouting from upstairs. He walked north a few yards and let himself into the town hall door and walked through that and the connecting door into the police station in back. Bubba Johns was sitting at the front counter in the lobby. Most of the station lights were off and the cells were now empty.

“They hire you on permanent, Chief?” Bubba asked.

“Six more months of probation.”

“That sucks.”

“Yes, Bubba, it does. Beats the alternative, I suppose.” He walked down the corridor to his office. He turned on his desk lamp in his office and sat and looked at Barbara Gillispie's photo.

“We're trying,” he told her. “Working the problem. Don't give up on us.”

Chapter 32

Saturday, December 28

Saturday night Troy and Lee flew up to Peter O. Knight airport on Davis Islands in Tampa. Lee's Cessna Grand Caravan could haul eight passengers or three thousand pounds of cargo.

“Isn't this a little expensive, just to fly the two of us?” he asked as they passed over Sarasota. He was sitting in the right seat and they were both wearing headsets.

“Sure it is. It's about a hundred and twenty nautical miles,” Lee said. “It's two-fifty, maybe three dollars per mile. That's not just for gas; that's the amortized total cost of the aircraft, per mile. On the plus side, it only takes us an hour each way instead of three or more hours by car.”

“So this round-trip costs somewhere in the vicinity of six hundred and sixty bucks.”

“Something like that. In theory, not actual cash.”

“I think that's what I make all month.”

Lee laughed. “If you would stop buying things for crime victims or your department, maybe you could save some money.”

When they landed and tied down the Cessna they called a taxi and rode to Bern's Steak House.

“Gaudy,” Lee said, looking around the lobby. It was her first visit.

“It is…unique,” Troy said. “Bern Laxer started with a sandwich shop downtown. He was a fanatic about his food. This is one of the best steak places in the United States.”

“Maybe,” Lee said. She was looking around at the crowd. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Hah. You need to make a reservation, for a Saturday night in the season, months in advance. But fear not. They serve the same food in the bar and most people don't know about that. And there you don't need a reservation.”

The bar actually had a few tables in the back and they snared one. “My treat,” Troy said.

Lee was looking at the menu. “Holy crow,” she said.

“It's not so bad. Remember, neither of us will be drinking any wine. I don't drink and you're flying.

Over a chateaubriand for two and some coffee Troy brought Lee up to date on the Gillispie murder. “If, in fact, it was murder,” he said.

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“No body. Maybe she fell down a well and Lassie can't find Mangrove Bayou to tell us. Maybe she went for a stroll and got into the mangroves someplace out of the way and fell and broke her neck. Ten feet in and nobody would ever find you unless they smelled you.”

“Ick. Nice talk for dinnertime. And, anyway, nobody goes strolling in mangroves.”

“Well, I might. But I'm weird. And I'd want snake boots. When I take my sailboat or canoe back into those places I'm usually afraid to get out of the boat unless it's some clear spot. Once had a raccoon the size of a small bear come into my tent and stand on me one night.”

“They're cute.”

“I think so too. That one, I squirted some bug spray into his eyes. I could hear him running through the trees until I heard a splash on the other side of the island.”

“That was cruel.”

“Better than being bitten.”

“Were you planning to bite him?”

Troy smiled. “Woke up one night to screaming. Teensy screams. A bobcat was killing little field mice on the other side of the tent canvas. The mice come around looking for food crumbs and the bobcats know that.”

“So, it's a jungle out there.”

“Suppose so. But the real jungle, with the most dangerous animals, is civilized society. Right now I have some possible murder suspects and no proof there's actually been any murder.”

“You have your teeth into it now,” Lee said. “Seen you that way before. You'll figure it all out.”

“Yeah. In-between other distractions.” He told Lee about Duell and the electricity-stealing vagrant in the park. “Can you believe that?”

“And he really made a speech about it to the reporters?”

“He did. He's running for reelection and I guess he thinks any camera is a good camera. The reporters didn't know what to make of him. They're in town to see about a missing person, probably murdered, and this loon is raving about electric wheelchairs.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. When someone you dislike—and who hates you—is busy shooting himself in his foot, you just step back and enjoy the show.”

“So, this poor woman in the wheelchair. Did you talk to her?”

“I did. After the town council meeting last night. I had to wait around a little while, but sure enough, she came rolling in around midnight. Her name is Georgette Green. She's about sixty, I would guess. Seems in decent shape, but for not having the best use of her legs. She can stand and walk a little. Funny thing is, she's not really homeless. She has relatives on Barron Key and she sleeps at their house about every other night. But she says she doesn't like to impose upon them and likes to stay out on nights when it's not raining. So she sits at the park half the night enjoying the stars and the mosquitoes.”