The Black Palmetto (17 page)

Though the man seemed to ask the question offhand, Sam knew he would check him out. He couldn't think of any reason to worry about it, so he told him.

The detective got Sam's phone number and made more marks in the notebook. “Okay. It looks like you might be in for a wait.” Getting up, he said to Lora, “If you think of anything that might help in the meantime, call me at the number on the card.”

“What do they say about his chances?” Sam asked, nodding toward the ICU.

“About fifty-fifty, I think. But you know, they're just guessing.” Turning to Lora, he said, “Don't forget. Call me if you think of anything.”

Lora eyed the card and gave it a thump. “Don't worry, I will.”

“Okay, I've got some other cases to look into, so I'm out of here.”

He forced a smile at Lora, but lost it as his face turned to Sam, and then he went back into the ICU. Sam assumed he wanted to tell the officer about the murders, and to be watchful for anyone who seemed interested in seeing Ford. A minute or so later, he came out and left, not even glancing their way. Other things on his mind.

They decided to get coffee in the hospital cafeteria, and after a few sips, Sam said, “I'll be right back.” He headed toward the restroom down the hall, kept going, and pulled out his phone.

Jack Craft didn't answer, and Sam wondered whether he might still be sleeping or just had his phone turned off.

Back at the table, he said to Lora, “I need to leave and take care of something, but I should be back in a couple of hours.”

Lora touched the napkin to her lips, her reporter eyebrow elevated. “I could take you.”

“Sure, if you don't mind.”

With Sam navigating, they took the Dolphin Expressway and continued east on the MacArthur Causeway. The sun's rays burned through the horizon as they rode into Miami Beach and headed toward his marina.

When she turned the car into the parking lot, Lora said, “Is this where you live?”

“This is it. I need to talk with a friend who lives here.”

Jack's new BMW sat in its parking spot. He'd traded the Mercedes a couple of months earlier. Said the big luxury liner projected a cooler image. It did look good.

“Does this have something to do with Spanner?”

“Maybe indirectly.”

They got out and strode down the dock. Sam noticed the newspaper on Jack's walkway.

“I don't think he's up yet. Why don't we go to my boat and have a cup of coffee?”

She linked her arm in his and smiled. “I bet you use that trick on all the girls.”

The post-dawn sun shone on them with a pleasant warmth and hue, and electricity seemed to flicker in Lora's eyes.

He smiled and led the way down the dock. “Seemed worth a try.”

Chuckling, she pulled her arm away.

As they approached
Slipstream,
his forty-foot cruiser, Lora let her eyes roam over the vessel. “How do you like living on the water?”

“It isn't much fun when a storm comes along, but other than that, it's good.”

“My dad had a boat. It wasn't this big, but it had a cabin. We would take it out on the Gulf for day trips.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, this brings back some good memories.”

Sam stepped aboard and opened the door, and they went into the lounge.

“Have a seat and I'll make the coffee.”

“Okay if I look around?”

“Sure, if you don't mind the mess.”

She came into the galley a few minutes later as the java machine finished brewing.

“Nice setup.”

“Thanks. It serves its purpose.”

He poured the cups and they each stirred in cream and sugar.

She took a sip and peered at him over the cup. “Umm. Good.”

They stood there, only a couple of feet apart. She moved closer and Sam set his cup down. He touched her hand, and Lora’s eyes zeroed in on his lips. Then the coffeemaker sputtered and popped, and she gave him a sad smile, turned around, and stepped away. Sam flipped off the offending machine.

The moment had passed, and he felt an uncomfortable silence taking its place. He pointed at the door. “Let's go outside on the deck.”

They exited and ambled aft to the chairs under the awning. Fog rose off the morning water, and skipjack and mullet broke the surface, feeding and playing. A pelican with part of its foot missing sat on a timber nearby. It eyed the fish and scratched underneath its wing with the tip of its long beak.

“That's Pete,” Sam said, nodding toward the bird. “I think he's pretty old. I usually feed him when there isn't much fishing activity. Sometimes he'll take the food out of my hand.”

“You're kidding. I've never heard of a tame pelican.” She looked around as they took a seat. “I could get used to this. So calm and peaceful.”

“Yeah, everyone is asleep right now. Give it a few hours and you'll hear music and boat motors.”

“Still, pretty nice. I kinda had you figured differently.”

“How so?”

“Well, more like military. A cabin in the woods, dogs patrolling the perimeter, security systems.” She glanced at him, her expression sober. “From the way you shot those men in the dark, maybe also doing a lot of target practice.”

“Maybe I should look into that. A cabin in the woods.”

Smiling, she said, “No, I like this better.” She took a sip of coffee and set the cup on a nearby table. “And I like you better, too.”

Sam grinned. “What? Because of the boat?”

“No, not just that. I liked the way you handled that situation back on the highway. Most guys would have just tried to outrun them, but you knew what to do.” She touched his arm and smiled. “Feeding the pelican out of your hand sounds kind of cute, too.”

“Yeah, the ladies seem to like that part.”

Lora slapped lightly at his arm and made a mock frown. “Oh, I should have known!”

“Hello over there!”

Sam turned to see Jack Craft standing on the dock, a cup of coffee and a newspaper in his hands.

“Jack, I was just coming to see you.”

“I hope you were bringing that lovely lady with you.”

Glancing at Lora, Sam said, “Yeah, we'll be right down.”

“Wonderful. Bring your coffee. I have some fresh pastries.”

They followed him along the dock to where
The Clipper
rested in its oversized slip.

After holding the main hatch open for them, Jack went into the galley. He took a plate from the refrigerator, removed a piece of foil covering it, and put it into the microwave.

“Have a seat at the table,” he said as he punched buttons.

By the time they sat, and Sam introduced the two, the oven beeped, and Jack took the plate out and set it on the table.

“These have caramelized apples inside.”

“Didn't know you could bake,” Sam said.

Jack smiled. “A lady friend made them for me.” He laid out napkins before them.

“They smell delicious,” Lora said as she took one.

“Believe me, they are.”

Sam picked out one and took a bite. “That is good.”

Jack smiled, helped himself to a pastry, and leaned back in his chair.

Lora's phone chirped, and she pulled it out of her purse and looked at it. “I need to take this.” She got up and went out on the deck.

“Okay, what was it you needed to see me about?” Jack asked.

“I wanted to know how you did with that favor I mentioned,” Sam said.

“Oh, the doctor. It went okay. I think the fix is in.”

“Who did you talk to about it?”

Something in Sam's face must have put Jack on the alert, because his smile slid away. “Why, what happened?”

“Somebody in a big Mercedes came around. Whoever it was seemed to outrank the FBI agent investigating the cases down in Iguana Key.”

“That cause you some trouble?”

“Not right away. As a matter of fact, it was the opposite. The local cops were trying to roust me, and the agent told them to lay off. This was right after he spoke with the person in the Mercedes.”

Jack shrugged. “So what's the problem?”

“The problem is, I think the same person had two thugs follow Lora and me and hold us up outside Iguana Key.”

Something changed in Jack's eyes, the gears turning over.

“Who did you talk to about the problem?” Sam repeated.

“A lobbyist in Washington who knows a lot of important people. He said he thought he could reverse the ruling on the Dr.'s case.”

The lobbyist might have called the person in the Mercedes, but that seemed like a long shot. “What did you tell him?”

“The bare minimum, just that the Dr. got the shaft and didn't deserve it.”

“Huh.” Maybe it was time to revisit the Dr. and see who might have contacted him. “You ever heard of a place called Windhaven?”

Jack chuckled. “Sure, I know a couple of people who vacationed there last year.”

“Vacationed?”

“Well, you know…”

Lora came back in and sat down. “That was just my boss looking for me.”

Chapter Twenty

Sam’s phone sounded off and he looked at the display. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”

“Mackenzie, this is Lieutenant Cates. A detective in Miami called and told me about Charles Ford being stabbed. Is Lora there with you?”

“Yes, hold on.”

He handed the phone to her. “Lonnie Cates.”

She put it to her ear. “Hello, Lonnie. I was probably on the phone when you called. He’s in a coma. We thought his assailant might be the same person who killed the people in Iguana Key…Because Ford was up here investigating somebody. Maybe it was the killer, and he found out about it. Okay, I’ll let you know if he wakes up. By the way, is there any progress on finding the chief?” Nodding for a moment, she said, “Okay, I’ll let you go, then.” She said goodbye and handed the phone back to Sam.

“What did he say about Boozler?”

“They got an anonymous call from a man saying he saw him, and he was on his way to check it out.”

They finished the pastries, and Sam said he needed to get something from his boat. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” Jack said with a smile.

Lora gave Sam a look that said she wondered what he was up to.

When he neared
Slipstream
, Sam dialed up Simone and told her about Cates’ call. “He got a tip on Boozler. You think you could catch up and follow him?”

“I can give it a try.”

“How's J.T. coming along with the encryption?”

“Pretty close to breaking it. He has a call in to one of his contacts to verify something to do with the code. Hold on.”

Sam heard her relay their conversation to J.T. and tell him she would be back later. “Okay, I'm headed for the car. What did you find out about the lawyer?”

Sam brought her up to speed on the coma situation. “I'll drop by the hospital again later and see if there's been any change.”

“Where are you now?” she asked, the sound of the car starting in the background.

“I left Lora at Jack's place and came over to my boat to call you.”

A couple of beats passed, and he wondered if she believed him.

“Okay, I'll try to pick up Cates’ trail.”

****

Sam went back to
The Clipper
and told Lora that something had come up that he needed to attend to. “I’ll meet you back at the hospital later. Jack will give me a lift. Right, Jack?”

The confidence man didn’t miss a beat. “You bet.”

She frowned. “I’ll be glad to drive you—”

“No, that’s okay, it might take a while.”

Lora grudgingly agreed, thanked Jack for the pastries, and left.

****

Jack turned his BMW into the driveway of Windhaven. The place looked like a business office, though there were no signs of any kind. It had minimal landscaping, and the drive led to a small parking lot to the side of a covered front entrance. Picking a space in the shade of a cluster of palms, Jack parked and they got out.

A small entrance hall lay directly inside the door, and a woman sat there behind a desk, reading a book. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see the director,” Jack said, handing her one of his many business cards. He cast his eyes around the room, as if inspecting for vermin.

The woman studied the card for a moment and looked him up and down. He had donned a suit that probably cost three thousand dollars and carried a polished leather portfolio. Sam had showered and put on a dress shirt and a pair of khakis.

“Do you have an appointment with Dr. Schuller…” She looked at the card again. “Mr. Bane?”

“No, but it’s imperative that I speak with him immediately. My client is a very wealthy man, and he has it on good authority that this facility recently violated his son’s patient confidentiality.”

She stood up and glanced at the card again, her eyes wide, as if there might be something there that she didn’t see the first two times. “Please have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Returning a few minutes later, she escorted them through a doorway with an electronic lock to a hallway and finally an office on the left. Unlike the exterior façade and the foyer, it reeked of opulence. A massive desk, constructed of a rich wood, dominated the space. It squatted atop an oriental rug that extended the length of the room. What appeared to be original paintings hung from the walls, interspersed with framed certifications from prestigious colleges and universities.

A very large man stood behind the desk with Jack’s card in his hand. Well over six feet tall, he probably weighed in excess of three hundred pounds. His hair resembled a snowcap atop a mountain, and the skin on his face had a rosy glow, no doubt from high blood pressure and alcohol.

“Mr. Bane, come in, please,” he said, rounding the desk. After shaking with Jack, he reached for Sam’s hand. “And you are?”

Sam smiled. “Mr. Bane’s investigator.”

“Ah, well then, let’s go over here where we can chat.”

He led them to the side where a loveseat sofa sat facing two leather chairs. Jack and Sam took the chairs, so the big man went to the sofa and lowered his bulk, taking up two thirds of its width.

“Now, Mr. Bane, what is it you wanted to see me about?”

Jack opened his portfolio. “I understand you were visited yesterday by an attorney named Charles Ford, and you divulged private information about a former Windhaven patient.”