Orchid Beach

CHAPTER

39

Holly started the next day by asking Jane Grey to run all the employees of Palmetto Gardens who were licensed to carry firearms through the state’s criminal records section.

A couple of hours later, Jane came into her office. “Not one of them had anything on his record more serious than a juvenile offense or a speeding ticket,” she said.

To Holly, that meant one of two things: either they had screened every applicant for a record and discarded those who had one, or they had cleaned up the records of some of their employees. There was no way to judge, from the state’s records, which was the case. And, if they had done some record scrubbing, there was no way to determine for which employees, except the five that Jackson knew about. There was another way, though.

“I’ve got a lot on my plate today, Holly. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, Jane, and thanks. You get back to work.”

Holly turned to her computer and logged on to the national crime computer, in Washington. One by one, she entered the names from the list she had run through the state computer, printing out individual files. It took her a couple of hours, but when she was done, she was astonished at the results.

Holly picked up her private line and called Jackson. “Can we meet at Ham’s?” she asked.

“What’s up? Why don’t we go to my house?”

“Just meet me there as soon as you can.”

“I’ll see you around six.”

She called Ham and told him they were coming.

“You young people sure like it here,” Ham said, as Jackson arrived. “Holly’s already here.”

“What’s going on?” Jackson asked her.

“I didn’t want to meet at your place or mine, because I thought there was an outside chance that one or both of them had been bugged.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just feeling paranoid.”

“Tell me about it.”

Holly took the stack of criminal records from her briefcase and laid them on the dining table. “This morning I ran all the gun-toting employees of Palmetto Gardens through the state crime computer. They were all clean. This afternoon I ran them through the national crime computer. Of a hundred and two, seventy-one had criminal records, lots of them for serious crimes.”

“That many?” Jackson said, sitting down.

“That many.”

“And all of them clean with the state?”

“All of them.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I guess they couldn’t fix the FBI records.”

“I guess not,” he said.

“I don’t know what to do, Jackson,” Holly said. “There’s something going on at Palmetto Gardens, but I just don’t have the resources to figure it out.”

“Maybe it’s time for the feds,” Jackson said.

“Maybe so, but I’d like to feel them out informally, if I can.”

“Like I told you, I know an agent in the Miami office; he’s in the organized crime division.”

“Let’s talk to him.”

Jackson dug an address book from his pocket, looked up his friend, and looked at his watch. “He’s probably on the way home from work. I’ve got a cell-phone number.” He dialed it. “Harry? It’s Jackson Oxenhandler. Yeah, pretty good, how about you? Listen, Harry, can you call me right back from a land line? Yeah, here’s the number.” Jackson gave it to him and hung up.

“What’s his name?” Holly asked.

“Harry Crisp. He’ll call us back soon. If you’re worried about bugging, I thought a land line would be better.”

“What are you…” The phone interrupted her.

Jackson picked it up. “Thanks, Harry. Listen, I’m in Orchid Beach with the local chief of police, a lady named Holly Barker. She’s stumbled onto something extraordinary that I think you ought to know about, and I don’t think we should talk about it on the phone. Could she and I come to Miami to see you? Where? What are you doing there? Well, great. Yeah, I’m buying, and I’ll put you up for the night. You got a pencil? I’ll give you directions.” He dictated directions from A1A. “See you later.” Jackson hung up. “He was at a filing in Fort Pierce, less than an hour away. He’s coming up here for dinner.”

“Great,” Holly said.

“I’ll make some spaghetti,” Ham said, and headed for the kitchen.

Jackson looked at Holly. “What’s the matter? You look worried.”

“I just hope I’m not making an ass of myself,” Holly said.