John Puller 02 - The Forgotten Page 24

  The man kicked open the door and leapt out, tumbling along the road and then coming to a stop. They watched as he picked himself up and slowly limped off.

  Puller said, “I like your style.”

  Carson eyed him with a stern gaze. “What?” he said.

  “Next time you go on R and R, pick a safer place than Paradise.”

  His phone buzzed. He answered it and listened for a bit before saying, “Okay.” Then he clicked off.

  Carson said, “Talk to me.”

  “I’ve been officially invited to join the murder investigation.”

  CHAPTER 58

  Mecho studied the police officers.

  He was bagging yard debris and the police officers were bagging the remains of a very expensive automobile.

  Mecho wondered if they had found the bits of the license plate with “The Man” on it. He hoped not. He hoped it had been blown into the water and swallowed by a shark.

  As he used a rake to collect some dead branches that had fallen to the ground, he watched the maid Beatriz walk across the lawn with a tray of lemonade and snacks. She was headed to the pool where Lampert and James Winthrop and Chrissy Murdoch were lounging. Her eyes were puffy and she kept her gaze downcast as she served the drinks and food. He watched Lampert eye her as she walked back across the lawn.

  As she neared the house and was out of sight of the others, Mecho hoisted the bag of debris and used his long legs to reach a spot that would cross her path. She pulled up when she saw him. He was well over a foot taller than her and more than twice her weight.

  He spoke to her in Spanish, asking her if everything was okay.

  She mumbled that it was and kept walking. He kept pace beside her.

  He asked more questions, and finally queried Beatriz about her employer. Her features hardened.

  Mecho pounced on this vulnerability.

  “I understand that your boss is leaving the country soon.”

  She looked sharply at him. “How do you know that?”

  “One of his guys told me. Asia?”

  “And Africa. At least that’s what I overheard.”

  “When does he leave?”

  “Why do you want to know?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I was thinking of asking you out. It would probably be easier if he weren’t around.”

  Whether she understood the significance of his words or not it was impossible to tell from her features.

  “You want to ask me out?” she said slowly.

  “I wasn’t always a laborer,” said Mecho truthfully. “I treat women with respect and courtesy.”

  “It is impossible.”

  “I understand.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “No, you do not understand. I am not allowed to leave the premises.”

  “You cannot leave here?”

  She shook her head and said in a low voice, “It is not permitted. I should not even be talking to you.”

  “I am a nobody. They do not care about nobodies.”

  She glanced up at him. “I think you are somebody,” she said hopefully.

  “Is it the guards that keep you in here?”

  “Not just the guards.” She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the pool.

  “You could call the police.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It is not just me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There are others.”

  “Your family?”

  She nodded, tears trickling from her eyes. She picked up her pace and hurried across the lawn and into the house.

  Mecho slowed his walk and ambled over to the truck with his load of debris. He dumped it in the vehicle’s rear bed and watched as Lampert walked down to the gate that led to the pier and unlocked the gate. The walls back here were wrought iron, six feet high. Lampert obviously didn’t worry too much about prying eyes from the water. There was enough foliage to block the main house and guesthouse from observers on boats.

  Mecho continued to watch as Lampert walked down the pier, climbed on board the yacht, and disappeared belowdecks.

  I could kill him. And maybe I should.

  But Mecho didn’t move toward the boat. Part of it was practical. He counted five security men within his sightline.

  He had no way to easily get through the gate. And he also had no weapon. Each time they had come here every man on the landscape crew had to walk through a magnetometer and then was wanded by the security detail. Lampert was a careful man. Before he even got to the big boat they would have shot him, and what would that have accomplished?

  No, better to let the plan play out the way he had envisioned.

  As he continued to work under a hot sun he thought about what the man Donny had told him last night at the hotel.

  The shipments came nearly every night. The last platform used as a staging area was twenty miles off the coast and to the west. Mecho believed that was the one he’d been on.

  Mecho had also been told that the plan was to start smuggling even more people in beginning next month. This would include people from Asia and Africa. That made sense if Lampert were planning to travel to those continents.

  How soon he would be leaving could be problematic. If things were not in place and he left before Mecho could act?

  I will not let that happen. Even if I have to somehow shoot his plane out of the sky. He will not get away again.

  Never again.

  Mecho sensed someone watching him and turned to see Chrissy Murdoch staring at him from just off the pool deck. She had on a bikini with a short terrycloth cover-up over it.

  He continued to work away as she walked over to him.

  He knelt down and pulled at some weeds around a flowerbed. He saw her painted toes stop a few inches from him. He looked up.

  “Mecho?”

  “Yes?”

  “You work very hard.”

  He shrugged as he threw the weeds into a sack he had taken from the truck. “The only way I know. Hard.”

  She smiled at this as though the comment had amused her somehow. “Did you hear what happened last night?”

  Mecho didn’t look up. It was beyond odd that she was talking to him at all, and particularly about bombs exploding in the darkness.

  “I saw the car,” he said in a low voice.

  “And you saw me too, didn’t you?”

  He looked up at her, shaded the glare of the sun with the width of his hand. “I do not understand.”

  “At the window of the guesthouse yesterday morning. You were looking. I saw your reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.”

  Shit! thought Mecho.

  “It’s okay. I’m not upset or anything. Did you like what you saw?”

  Was she playing with him? Yet for some reason he thought she really wanted to hear the answer.

  “Did you like what you were doing?” he shot back.

  She seemed to mull this. “It’s complicated.” “Complex things are actually simple.”

  “Oh, you think so?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Maybe. What do you think? Did I like it?” “No. But then again, it’s none of my business.” She looked over his shoulder at the yacht. “He has the best of everything,” she said. “Houses, planes, yachts.”

  “And you? Are you one of his bests?”

  “You don’t seem like a typical member of a landscaping crew.”

  “I came here for a better life. I have yet to find it. In my country I had a good job. I used my brains. Here, I just use my back.”

  “So why come here, then?”

  “I had to.”

  “Were things bad in your country?”

  “Things were bad,” he said curtly.

  “I see.”

  “Do you really see?”

  She looked at him with a bemused expression. “Why do I think you’re talking more about me than you?”

  “Does the other man know?�
��

  “James? James is lock, stock, and barrel with Peter.”

  “This is a phrase I don’t understand.”

  “Peter owns James. So, no, he doesn’t care.” “Then James is less than a man.”

  “A fact I know perfectly well.”

  “Why do you bother to talk to me? Because I saw?”

  “I trust my gut on people. And you passed that test.”

  “That doesn’t matter. People like you do not talk to people like me.”

  “Is that the rule?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like to smash rules, Mecho. I always have.” He shrugged and went back to weeding.

  “Will you be here much longer?” she asked. “Will you?”

  “I don’t know. It’s up to Peter.”

  The same for me, thought Mecho.

  CHAPTER 59

  The Plaza Hotel did not look like the far more famous one in New York City on the edge of Central Park. Its exterior was the usual beige stucco, its roof the usual terra-cotta tiles, and each balcony overlooking the water had columns shaped like palm trees.

  Puller did not focus on the architecture of the building as he and Carson walked inside. He was thinking about Diego. And how to get him and Mateo back in something other than body bags. And he still had no clue where Isabel was.

  “Do we tell the police about what just happened?” asked Carson as they hurried through the ornate lobby that had as its centerpiece a fountain with King Neptune in the center on a pedestal with dolphins and mermaids leaping around him. If it weren’t so garish it might have actually been funny.

  “Yes, we do. They need to get an APB out on the kids right now.”

  Landry met them at the elevator banks and they rode a car up to the floor where the murders had occurred. On the way Puller told her about Diego and Mateo and their run-in with the street kings.

  “You’re lucky to still be walking around. Those guys are real animals.”

  “They wouldn’t last a minute in Afghanistan,” said Puller.

  “Amen to that,” added Carson.

  Landry called in this information. “I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything,” she said after she got off the phone.

  As they climbed off the elevator Puller caught Landry and Carson checking each other out in a way only women could do and most men would never even notice. But Puller noticed and, again, it made him uncomfortable.

  The hotel room was empty except for Bullock and the two dead bodies. Other than that there was no visible sign that anything had been processed.

  Bullock came over to them, and as if in answer to his thoughts he said, “Called in some support from the state police. And I’m trying to think of a way to engage the FBI. This is getting out of control. But I’ve heard nothing back yet. Florida’s slashed its budget like every other state. Not sure we’re going to be getting any help.”

  Puller was only half listening. His attention was on the bed where the two men lay. He drew closer, Carson right next to him.

  “Who called it in?” asked Puller.

  “Hotel. Room service came up here with a breakfast order one of the guys had put in the night before. No one answered. She opened the door and, to put it delicately, tossed her cookies along with the breakfast tray. Luckily someone cleaned that up before we got here.”

  “Those wounds look deep,” said Carson.

  “They are,” replied Landry. “The knife blade came out the other side on both men.”

  “Long blade and strong killer,” said Puller. He focused more on the faces. He had already seen that the two men were not the same pair that had been following him.

  When Carson asked him about this, he shook his head. “No. Different guys. Never seen them before.”

  He looked at Landry. “Time of death?”

  “The ME came in and did a quick look-see and pronounced death. She said between two and four last night.”

  Puller ran his gaze over the bodies. “Tied up.” He looked closer at their faces. “Were their mouths taped? I see some residue.”

  “Apparently so, but the killer took the tape with him. And there’s this.”

  Landry edged down the pants and underwear of one of the men.

  “The killer cut his groin?” said Carson.

  Landry nodded. “We saw the blood on the pants and the ME had a look.”

  Puller said, “Torture? Getting them to talk?”

  “I guess that technique would work on most guys,” observed Landry dryly.

  “Who are these two?” asked Puller.

  “Joe Watson is the guy on the right. This was his room. Stiff on the left is Donald Taggert. He was in the room next door.”

  “What else do we know about them?”

  “Not much. They came down here about two weeks ago. They’re both from New Jersey. We’re checking into their backgrounds now. Next of kin being notified, all the standard stuff.”

  “Two weeks here,” said Puller. “Pretty expensive.”

  “It can be, yes,” said Landry.

  “Nice suits,” said Carson, edging up Watson’s jacket to see the label. “Hands manicured, expensive shoes. There’s money here for sure.”

  Bullock came over to join them. “And a bombing at Lampert’s place. Murders on the beach. Gangs attacking folks. I don’t know what the hell is going on. Just last week this place was as peaceful as a small town in the middle of Kansas.”

  “Even small towns have problems,” said Puller, thinking of his recent escapade in rural West Virginia.

  “Well, right now I’ll switch with any of them,” replied Bullock. He looked inquiringly at Carson, and Puller quickly introduced her.

  “A general?” said Bullock. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “Not really. The Army has a lot of one-stars.”

  “Not many who are women, I bet,” said Bullock.

  “The Army could definitely do better in that regard,” agreed Carson.

  Puller said, “Any leave-behinds from the killer?”

  “Not much so far. No one saw anything. And unfortunately the hotel doesn’t have security cameras in the corridors.”

  “Why not?’ asked Carson.

  “What happens in Paradise stays in Paradise,” replied Bullock.

  “Vegas has tons of surveillance cameras,” she pointed out.

  “In the casinos. And I guess we’re a little more forgiving here.”

  “Not very forgiving to those two,” said Puller, pointing at the dead men.

  “How’s the investigation coming with your aunt?” asked Landry.

  “It’s coming. Did you ever find Jane Ryon?” “She wasn’t at her home. We left messages on her phone for her to contact us.”

  “How about an APB?”

  “We don’t have enough cause to issue an APB. You just saw her driving down the street. She could have been coming from anyone’s home, or just passing through the neighborhood. We learned she has other clients on that street. And the ME has not issued her report yet. We don’t even know if it was a murder.”

  “So you’re just going to wait to hear from her?” said Puller. “And if you don’t? If she’s already fled the country?”

  Carson said, “You can put markers in the system for passport, credit card, and cell phone usage. She can be tracked that way.”

  Bullock looked doubtful. “I’d need a court order for that. Let’s just try to work the case a bit more. I don’t want to get my butt sued in case she’s just off on vacation or something. And now I’ve got all this to deal with. This, we know, was a murder.”

  Puller turned back to the bodies on the bed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You’re a trained investigator. Look around and tell me if you see anything that strikes you.” “I’ve got my evidence duffel in my car. If I’m going to look around I’d rather do it my way and professionally.”

  Bullock exclaimed, “Hell, have at it. I’m not too proud to admit I’m out of my depth here.” Puller left to
get his duffel.

  CHAPTER 60

  Four hours later Puller rose off one knee and bagged one more piece of evidence. He gave all the bags to Landry and slipped off his latex gloves and booties.

  Carson, Landry, and Bullock had watched Puller methodically work the crime scene, taking photos, measuring, dusting for prints, and generally scrubbing the room for any clues to the killer’s identity. He had done both this room and the one next door.

  “Army trained you well, John,” said Carson, looking impressed as he tossed his gloves and booties into his duffel.

  “Yes, they did, John,” Landry added hastily.

  Puller tried not to think about the increasingly complex situation with the two women as he packed his tools away.

  Bullock was sitting on the edge of a credenza. While Puller had worked away, Landry went for sandwiches and waters. They had eaten outside the room, at Puller’s insistence, so as not to contaminate the crime scene.

  “Any conclusions?” Bullock asked.

  “Got a partial footprint near the edge of the bed in the other room. Dirt pattern that was probably carried in from outside. No obvious smells. Killer probably wasn’t wearing any type of strong cologne that might have lingered. I did elimination prints on the dead guys. Those are most of the prints I found in the rooms. I would assume some others match hotel personnel. For elimination purposes, we’ll need to print any of them who came up here.”

  “Unless it was someone working at the hotel who killed them,” Carson pointed out.

  “Right,” said Puller. “Then we’ll need to print all of them.”

  Bullock said, “We’ll get right on that.” He nodded at Landry, who walked out to get it done.

  Puller swept his gaze around the room. “Anything else?” asked Carson.

  “Not forensically. I think we’ll know more when we find out about the dead guys’ backgrounds.” He looked at Bullock. “These aren’t street bangers. But you have drug problems here, right?”

  “What city doesn’t have drug problems?” he said stiffly.

  “Any other issues here we should know about?”

  Carson looked at Puller and then at Bullock.

  The police chief stared back at the CID agent. “Like what?”