Loitering with Intent

16

STONE KNOCKED ON Annika’s door, clutching a bouquet of flowers. She opened the door, kissed him, took the fl owers and led him inside.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked.

“Do you have any bourbon?”

“I don’t know,” she said, pointing at the bar. “Look through those bottles.”

To Stone’s surprise, he found a bottle of Knob Creek, unopened.

“My favorite,” he called to her, holding up the bottle. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t,” she called from the kitchen. “Most of those bottles were brought by other people as gifts.”

Stone was opening the bottle when his cell phone vibrated. “Yes?”

“It’s Tommy. Evan Keating has a reservation at Louie’s Backyard.”

“When?”

“Five minutes ago. I’m going over there myself.”

“Will you give me a couple of minutes with him before you barge in?”

“Yeah, sure, but move your ass.”

Stone hung up and went into the kitchen, where something smelled good. “I have to go out for a few minutes. It’s business. Will you forgive me?”

“If you hurry,” she said.

He kissed her and ran for his car. Five minutes later he was walking into Louie’s. He looked around the restaurant but didn’t see Keating, then he walked outside to the bar area and saw him seated, alone, at a table by the water. He walked over to the table and sat down.

“Now listen . . .” Keating said.

“No, you listen.” Stone took a card from his wallet and wrote his cell phone number on the back. “Here’s how you can get in touch with me.”

Keating looked at the card on the table but didn’t pick it up. “I don’t want to get in touch with you. Now, leave.”

“How would you like to have twenty-one million dollars?” Stone asked.

“You’re going to give me twenty-one million dollars?”

“I think I told you this before, but your father is selling the company, and that’s your share of the proceeds.”

“That’s what my father says my share is?” Keating asked.

“It is.”

“Then it’s the wrong amount. My father is a liar and a thief, and if he’s offering me that much money, he owes me a lot more.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Why don’t you ask my Uncle Harry?”

“I didn’t know you had an Uncle Harry.”

“I don’t anymore; he’s dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Barrington, my Uncle Harry is the one who made the company into what it is. My father had nothing to do with its success, and now that Uncle Harry is dead, he’s cashing in.”

“What about your grandfather? Can he still run it?”

“My grandfather has Alzheimer’s; he’s in a home.”

“Do you have any interest in running the company?” Stone asked.

“Not in the least.”

“Then why don’t you just take the money?”

“I told you, my father is a liar and a thief. He made a drunk of my mother, and he probably murdered my Uncle Harry.”

“Do you have any evidence of that?”

“No, but I understand the police are looking into it.”

“When did your Uncle Harry die?”

“Three months ago. I saw his obituary in the New York Times. ”

“So you’re not going to sign the papers okaying the sale?”

“No, I’m not. That will royally screw my father, and I’ll enjoy that.”

Shit, Stone thought. “Then I’m wasting my time?”

“Yes, you are. By the way, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry you got socked in the neck the last time we met.”

“Why did that happen?”

“My girlfriend is sometimes a little overprotective. Apparently, she thought you meant me ill.”

“Where is she now?” Stone said, looking behind him.

“Relax, she’s in the ladies’ room.”

“Good. By the way, did you know that Charley Boggs is dead?”

Keating’s face fell. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw them fish his body out of Garrison Bight this morning. You’ll read about it in tomorrow’s paper.”

“Oh, shit,” Keating said.

“Well, yeah. The police want to talk to you about it.”

“Me? I would never hurt Charley. We’ve been friends since prep school.”

“Prep school? I thought Boggs was just some Key West drug dealer.”

“He may be that, but it wasn’t a part of our relationship. When I came to Key West, he was the only person I knew here.”

“The police found a bag of cocaine in his motorcycle storage locker and a hiding place on his houseboat where more drugs were probably stashed.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Keating said. “How did Charley die?”

“Bullet to the back of the head. Do you own a nine-millimeter pistol?”

“No.”

“Why was your boat out at the reef in the middle of the night a couple of days ago?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keating said.

“It was spotted there.” Stone didn’t tell him how. “The police are going to want to talk to you about that, too.”

“I’ve only driven the boat once, the day I bought it. It’s been at anchor ever since.”

“Could Charley Boggs have used it without your knowledge?”

“Well, yes. He knew where the keys were stashed.”

“Could Charley have used your cell phone?”

“I lost my cell phone the day I bought the boat; it must have gone overboard.”

“You may need a lawyer soon,” Stone said. “You’ve got my number.” He got up and left by the exit directly from the bar deck to the street and saw Tommy Sculley and Daryl getting out of their car.

“He’s out back,” Stone said, jerking a thumb in that direction. Stone drove back to Annika’s house and found her setting the table.

“Smells good,” he said. “What are we having?”

“Swedish meatballs,” she replied. “What else?”

“Sounds great.”

“Did you conclude your business?”

“Not really,” Stone replied. He had the feeling there was more business to do, but he wasn’t sure what it was.