Contraband

39

Stone dialed Max Crowley’s cell number, and she answered immediately.

“Howdy, stranger.”

“Howdy, yourself, Max. What the hell is going on down there?”

“Key West is as quiet as I’ve ever seen it. What are you talking about?”

“I’ve just had two ATF agents in my office, wasting half my afternoon, wanting to know every little thing about the events at Fort Jefferson, and it was clear from the outset that they knew absolutely nothing about them, which means they hadn’t talked to anyone in Key West, like you.”

“That is kind of weird,” Max said. “The only contact I’ve had with the feds is to call the local FBI SAC, who finally provided the serial numbers of the airplane and engine and the name of the owners, which I already had.”

“Why would the feds have any interest in this business, anyway?”

“Oh, they were interested enough to salvage the remains of the airplane and move everything to their hangar at Opa Locka Airport.”

“I should think this was a Coast Guard matter, wouldn’t you?”

“You’d think,” Max replied. “I’m as baffled at the feds’ interest as you are.”

“Did you ever find the pilot, Dix, after his decampment from the hospital?”

“Funny you should mention that,” she said. “We found him landing the replacement aircraft — which I assume his employers had bought him — at a grass strip a couple of Keys up, and had a chat with him. We got nada, and he wasn’t committing a crime, so we couldn’t arrest him.”

“Anything of interest on the airplane?”

“Absolutely nothing. Tommy and I are back in the stolen bicycle business. By the way, I had a lovely time in L.A., and I think the Mercedes looks stunning in that setting.”

“So did I, and I agree. When can we repeat the experience in New York?”

“When can we repeat it in Key West? It’s your turn, and you fly more comfortably than I.”

“You have a point, but I’m embroiled at the moment in a double murder in which a client of mine is kind of a suspect.”

“What is ‘kind of a suspect’?”

“Dino suspects her but has no evidence.”

“Oh, that kind of a suspect. And she’s a she?”

“She is. A designer that I arranged a divorce lawyer for.”

“You couldn’t handle that?”

“I don’t handle that. I’m allergic to ex-husbands, although in this case, he’s one of the corpses, so she doesn’t need a divorce anymore.”

“That sounds like a motive to me,” Max said.

“Funny, that’s what Dino said. I, on the other hand, think it’s insufficient, since she had already filed her petition, anyway.”

“Yeah, but just think of how much hassle and attorney’s fees she saved herself.”

“You should be working for Dino.”

“I’m a warm-weather girl. I’d freeze my ass off up there.”

“There is that, I guess.”

Joan buzzed him, and he put Max on hold. “Yes?”

“It’s Robbie. I need to see you right away.”

“Hang on, let me finish a call on the other line.”

He pressed the hold button, then line one. “I need to take this call,” he said.

“Okay, is that Dino’s suspect?”

“Funny you should mention that. Find a way to wing your way north.”

“We’ll see.” Max hung up.

He pressed line two. “What’s wrong, Robbie?”

“Well, nothing much, except Randy and one of my best friends have both been murdered, and the police have been here.”

“Is that all? You didn’t let them search the place, did you?”

“I might have, but I wasn’t here at the time, and my secretary brushed them off.”

“You need to call Herb Fisher and have a heart-to-heart with him. And if the cops come back, which they will, ask to see their warrant. If they show it to you, get out of their way and call Herb. If they ask you questions, say that your attorney is on the way, and they can speak to him.”

“You don’t sound very sympathetic,” she said.

“This is all the sympathy I can muster under the circumstances. Anyway, you don’t need sympathy, you need an attorney. Call Herb. We’ll talk when the police are out of your way, and in the meantime, make sure there’s nothing in your underwear drawer that would interest them, except your underwear.”

“Like a gun?”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that. There was a car backfiring in the street.”

“I said...”

“There it goes again. I have to hang up now. Do you understand why?”

“No, and I don’t like it much.”

“I’ll explain it to you when the air has been cleared with the authorities.”

“You shit!” she yelled, then hung up with a bang.

Joan buzzed again. “Dino on two.”

Stone picked up. “Now what?”

“Aren’t you glad to hear from me?” Dino asked.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to disentangle myself from the web of Robbie Calder.”

“Did you gain any yardage?”

“I faked a pass to Herbie Fisher, then punted.”

“Good plan. Here’s news: We found the weapon that killed Randy Hedger in a dumpster around a corner or two from where he met his maker.”

“What sort of gun?”

“A .38 snub-nose, what else?”

“Jesus, does everybody own a .38 snub-nose these days?”

“Just Randy Hedger and me.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying he was killed with his own gun?”

“Your powers of perception astonish me,” Dino said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crime like this.”

“Who has? Robbie said the police were there, but she was out, and her secretary got rid of them. Have you got a search warrant yet?”

“Not yet. The gun was wiped very clean.”

“Well, we know Randy didn’t shoot himself in the head with his own gun, then run around the corner and deposit it in a dumpster.”

“Yeah, we surmised that from the available evidence.”

“Speaking of available evidence, does any exist, apart from your finely tuned sense of smell?”

“Only what you’ve seen.”

“So, no probable cause for a warrant.”

“Not of any kind,” Dino said. “I’ll keep you posted.” He hung up.

Stone hung up, too, tried to make some sense of what he had heard, and failed miserably.