Loitering with Intent

37

STONE WALKED BACK to his cottage and watched Charley Boggs walk to his own, directly opposite. Gigi was waiting for him on the front porch, and she stood up to kiss him, laughing when he apparently told her the news.

Dino was sitting on their porch, rocking. “What’s going on?”

Stone got out his cell phone. “I may as well tell you and Eggers at the same time,” he said, pressing the speed-dial number and the speaker button.

Eggers answered, and Stone gave him a blow-by-blow account of the meeting. Eggers was silent.

“Bill?” Stone said.

“I’m still here. At least, I think I’m still here. I’m feeling a little disoriented.”

“I know the feeling,” Stone said. “Are you in touch with Warren Keating at all?”

“I’ve spoken to his attorney a couple of times. There was a lot of shouting.”

“I think you’d better give the attorney the news, so that he can transmit it to his client. Charley Boggs wants Warren to stop trying to kill him.”

“I can understand that,” Eggers said.

“Sooner, rather than later, please.”

“I’ll call him now.”

“Thanks, Bill.”

“You coming back to New York now?”

“In a couple of days, maybe. I want to see what it’s like in Key West when I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Bye, then.” Eggers hung up.

Stone turned to Dino. “Any questions?”

“Seems like all my questions have been answered,” Dino said.

“All that I can think of at the moment, anyway.”

Stone got a soda out of his refrigerator and sat on the porch, sipping it. “I feel kind of let down,” he said.

“Not me,” Dino said. “I feel just great.”

A young man came down the path and stopped at their porch.

“Is one of you Mr. Stone Barrington?”

“I’m Barrington,” Stone said.

“I have a letter for you from the county attorney’s offi ce,” the man said, holding out an envelope.

Stone pointed at the cottage across the way. “See that cottage?”

“Yessir.”

“Knock on the door and give the letter to Mr. Boggs; he’s expecting it.”

“Okay.” The young man did as he was told, and Charley Boggs received the letter. He opened it, read it, waved at Stone and went back inside.

“Business concluded,” Stone said.

“It’s not too early for a drink, is it?” Dino asked.

“Of course it’s too early. Let’s go to the Raw Bar and get some conch fritters.”

“I’m game,” Dino said.

THEY WERE HALF WAY through their fritters when Dino broke the silence. “There’s something I don’t understand,” he said.

“Tell me,” Stone replied.

“What did these two guys get out of switching identities?”

“They made it harder for their respective fathers to fi nd them.”

“My recollection, from what Tommy said, was that Charley’s father’s response to being told his son was dead was that he wasn’t surprised, that he’d thought he might be already dead.”

“Yeah, that’s what Tommy said the elder Mr. Boggs said.”

“Which means that Charley Boggs’s old man wasn’t looking for him.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“So what’s in it for him to switch identities with Evan?”

“I’ve got two answers for you: the first, not much; the second, maybe Charley was just doing Evan a favor. After all, we know that Evan’s father was looking for him, because he hired Manny White and me to find him, and Evan and Charley had been close friends since prep school, so it’s the sort of thing one friend might do for the other.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dino said, “but I think there’s another reason we don’t know about.”

“What’s that?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know. We don’t know about it. I just think there’s more to this story than we’ve been told.”

Another voice spoke. “That’s what I think.”

Stone looked up to see Tommy Sculley standing next to the table. He shoved onto the bench next to Dino.

“I’m willing to believe that,” Stone said. “But from my point of view, I know all I need to know. So do you, Tommy. You cleared a homicide, and you know what happened to Charley’s—excuse me, Evan’s drugs. Aren’t you happy?”

“No,” Tommy said, “and I don’t know why. Did Charley ask you to let Evan’s old man know he’s dead?”

“Yes, he did, and for a very good reason: He wants Warren Keating to stop trying to kill him.”

“That’s what I figured,” Tommy said. “That’s a good reason, also, for him to come in today and tell his story.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But he didn’t have to do that; he wasn’t a suspect, was he?”

“No.”

“So he could have gone right on being Evan Keating, if he’d wanted to.”

“Yeah, I guess he could have. And gone right on getting shot at. Doesn’t it bother you guys that this all wrapped up so neatly?”

“I like it when things wrap up neatly,” Dino said. “It’s just that they never do.”

“Sure they do,” Stone said. “Sometimes. All right, rarely.”

“There are always loose ends,” Tommy said. “Only this time, there aren’t.”

The three men sat and contemplated that in silence.

“You’re a troublemaker, Tommy,” Stone said.

“Sorry about that; I’m just not satisfi ed.”

“Try this,” Stone said. “If you find out Evan—ah, Charley—did commit some other crime associated with the murder, Rawlings has already given him immunity for it, so there’s nothing you can do, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s very clever of what’s-his-name,” Tommy said. “I think Rawlings and I were snookered.”

“Now, wait a minute, Tommy, I haven’t snookered anybody. I didn’t know what Ev . . . what’s-his-name was going to say until I heard him tell you.”

“I believe you, Stone. That means you’ve been snookered, too. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It would,” Stone said, “if I knew I had been snookered, but I don’t know that.”

“Well,” Tommy said, “when you find out you’ve been snookered, would you let me know how?” He got up and left, without waiting for an answer.