Play it down, p.20
Play It Down, page 20
“It’s not like Woody to just blow something off like that, not get a detective or two to at least look into it.”
Joe looked out the glass door toward the Miami skyline beyond his balcony. “Woody defended Juliano, said he donates a lot of money to the city and the police department.”
“Have you talked to him since?”
“Who, Woody?” Joe shook his head. “I told him I’d find a way to get him the proof he’d need. but I don’t think he expected much from me.”
“I hate to tell you this, Joe, but I’m not sure Woody’s ready to look at you as anything more than a former journalist who can’t keep himself out of situations you may not be qualified for. It’s nothing personal, but he just feels you’re overstepping your bounds, putting people in danger.”
“Oh, believe me, I know how he feels,” Joe said.
The line went quiet for a moment.
Bart said, “If you can hang tight, I’ll see what I can find out.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?” Joe said. “You expect me to just sit around and wait for you to call me back?”
“Well, you know, I was thinking.” Bart paused on the other end. “Have you spoken to Juliano?”
“Not since our little meeting at that abandoned building.”
Bart was quiet, then said, “What if I can get Woody to send you in to meet with Juliano.”
“Get Woody to send me in to meet Juliano? I’m not following. Why would he—”
“How do you feel about wearing a wire?”
“A wire? Are you crazy? I’m not going to go meet Juliano wearing a wire. Besides, he’s not going to say much. He didn’t the first time. He never even told me why he was looking for Peters, and I don’t think he planned to. On top of it, he has no idea what I know.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said. “You think it’s just a coincidence that bodies have shown up soon after you’ve been around the victims? Come on, Joe. You’re not thinking with your head. Think about it; even the one-night stand with Peters’ wife. She was killed within hours of being at your place. Same thing with Dickie’s friend. She leaves your apartment… dead. Nick’s own cousin is killed not more than a handful of hours after we left his house. You really want to believe this is all just a coincidence that has nothing to do with you?”
Joe thought about it, trying to work it through in his mind. “I didn’t think about it like that. But then why would he hire me to find Peters?”
“I wish I had an answer, Joe. But he might know more about you than you’d like to admit. Maybe there’s something more to this whole thing. Did you ever think of that?”
Joe thought about it some more, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, what would I do? I mean, wearing a wire. If he feels I’m up to something or suspects I’m trying to wrap him up in these murders, then there’s no way he’s going to talk.”
“It could be worth a shot. Bringing him down alone, if that’s your goal, isn’t going to be as easy as it seems.” Bart paused. “You know, I wish we’d recorded his cousin last night. I never thought he was going to sing the way he did. And now, we don’t really have much proof of anything. It’ll be a matter of getting someone to believe us.”
Joe stood up from the couch. “You don’t think Woody’ll believe you?”
“Woody will,” Bart said. “But I’m not sure about anyone else. That’s why I still think Woody’s our best chance, if he agrees to send you in there. So, are you good if I call him?”
“Call Woody?” Joe had to think about it. “Yeah, I guess so. But I’m not sure about wearing a wire, Bart. That’s a little bit too much of a risk I’m not sure I can—”
“It’s not like the old days,” Bart said. “You can hide a recording device in your damn cufflink.”
“I don’t wear cufflinks,” Joe said.
“Yeah, I know. I’m just saying…” The line went quiet again. “Let me feel Woody out. If I don’t call you back, I’ll come by your place within the hour.”
Joe stepped out of the shower when he heard his phone start ringing. He grabbed the towel and wiped his hands as dry as he could, water dripping off his body and hair as he stepped across the bathroom floor. He almost slipped, reaching for the phone next to the sink, checking the screen.
It was Lauren.
“Lauren?” he said. “How’s it going out there? Is everything all right?”
“I guess so. I just woke up. I didn’t sleep much at all, expecting you to call me when you got back from whoever it was you said you were going to see.”
“I’m sorry,” Joe said. “I was with Bart. Didn’t you see my text?”
“Not until a little while ago. I had my ringer turned down.”
“How’s the house? Everything okay so far?”
Lauren took a moment before she answered. “Joe, how long do we have to be here? This place isn’t exactly a five-star hotel. It’s old. And it’s kind of dirty here. There’s not even any WiFi, and the mattress I slept on’s probably thirty years old. I almost went and slept in Dickie’s car.”
“You have your own room at least? I hope?”
“No, Dickie and I slept in the same bed.”
“Are you kidding?”
Lauren let out a small laugh. “Of course I’m kidding. Be serious, Joe. You really think I’d sleep in a bed with Dickie?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his head of wet hair with the towel in his free hand. “Where is he?”
“Out talking to his friend. He snores so loud, Joe. I don’t think I can do this for another night.”
“Dickie snores, huh?” He huffed out a slight laugh. “Well, hopefully it’ll be over soon. It’s just best that you stay where you are for now.”
Lauren was quiet on the other end. “Are you ever going to be straight with me… and tell me why you’re involved in all of this, Joe? I still… I just don’t get why you couldn’t have just stayed out of it.”
Joe knew she was right but wasn’t going to admit it. Not right then. “It’s too late for that.” He went on and told her about Carl Murphy, and the fact he was killed hours after they dropped him off. “Bart seems to think there’s more of a connection to me than I realize. But I’m not sure that’s the case, although there’s no doubt Nick Juliano’s behind all of it. Now all we have to do is find a way to prove it.”
“You need to be careful,” Lauren said. “Actually, what I’d like you to do is… Can you do me a favor? Can you promise me this is it with whatever it is you think you’re doing? Maybe you could just get back to your writing… finish the book for once, and leave all this tough-guy, heroic crap for someone else?”
Joe pressed the phone against his ear, wrapping the towel around his waist. “I think that sounds like a good idea.” He walked into his bedroom and pulled out a pair of pants, sitting on the bed and trying to pull them on with one hand. He looked toward the hallway when there was a knock at his door. “Someone’s at my door,” he said, looking at the time on his phone. “It’s not even six thirty.”
“You want to call me back?”
“Yeah, give me a few minutes.” He ended the call and put the phone down on the bed, standing up to button his pants and slip on a T-shirt. He walked down the hall and wondered where he’d left his gun.
Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again.
Joe looked out through the peephole at two police officers, he knew from their uniforms were with Miami-Dade. He thought maybe he shouldn’t open the door but knew there was a chance they’d likely wait for him, knowing he was home.
He decided not to play games and removed the chain, turning the locks on the door. He cleared his throat as he pulled it open. “Hello, Officers? Is everything all right?”
The taller and older of the two spoke first. “Joe Sheldon?”
Joe forced a grin. “That’s me.”
“Would you mind if we came in?”
“Would I mind?” He thought about his gun, and remembered he’d left it out on the table. It was legal and registered at that point, but he still didn’t like the idea of two officers walking in seeing it out in the open. “Forgive me for asking, but, uh, do you happen to have a warrant?”
The older of the two shifted his stance, his hand on his belt near a holstered gun. “We’d like to ask you some questions about an incident that occurred early this morning, a couple of hours ago out in Pinewood.”
Joe said, “It sounds to me you’re saying you don’t have a warrant?”
The cop said, “There is no need for a warrant at this time. Again, we are simply here to ask a couple of questions.”
“Okay, maybe we can do it like this, right here in the doorway, if that works for you?”
The two officers exchanged a look, and the older one said, “We were down in the parking garage below your building looking your car over. A vehicle very similar to yours—a 1986 Mercedes 560, convertible, with forest-green exterior—was spotted by a witness who said it was parked in front of a home at 151 Little River Drive, in Pinewood.”
Joe tried to hide his swallow. “Uh, okay. What’s that mean? I’m sure there are plenty of forest-green Mercedes 560s in the area. No?”
The officer shook his head. “Actually, there is only one other forest-green Mercedes in Florida. It belongs to a retired judge up in Jacksonville.”
Joe pulled at his chin. “Um, well”—he shrugged—“you know, on second thought, I think I’m going to pass on answering any questions. In fact, how about I come down in a couple of hours? I could do that, but I’d like to consult my attorney before I say anything else.”
“Sir, there’s a chance we’ll return with a warrant before that time, so it may be—”
“A warrant for what? My arrest?”
The younger of the two officers, who hadn’t said a word, finally spoke up. “Mr. Sheldon, we may have the right to search your car, downstairs in your garage. I hope you understand.”
Joe wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want them in the apartment. But he didn’t think there was anything in the car they could use against him, either. Sure, Carl Murphy had been in the back seat. But Joe didn’t kill him. “Why don’t you go ahead down there. I’ll even give you the key as long as you bring it back. In the meantime, I guess I’ll call my attorney.”
Chapter 27
Joe stepped from the sidewalk into Bart’s car, brushing his hand through the air as he slid onto the passenger seat, clearing the smoke from Bart’s cigarette. “I thought you quit?”
Bart took his foot off the brake and hit the gas, heading west toward First. “Not this week,” he said. He flicked the cigarette out the window. “Woody’s waiting,” he said. “Miami-Dade’s agreed to back off, but only for twenty-four hours. So we won’t have much time.” He looked ahead, turning right onto Fifth. “I know Officer Barker.”
“Barker? Who’s he, the older one?”
Bart nodded. “He’s two months from retiring, and said you were cooperative and respectful, other than refusing to answer any questions.” He gave Joe a quick glance. “He said you handed him your keys, let ’em take the Mercedes?”
Joe shook his head. “I didn’t think they’d tow it.”
Bart had his eyes on the street. “All they’re going to do is run the fingerprints, which obviously isn’t a good thing for me. I didn’t tell him the whole story yet, for obvious reasons.” He turned down Second and into the visitor parking lot across the street from the station. “The thing is, if we can’t get Woody to buy into this plan, we’re both going to be in deep shit.” He turned off the engine and stepped out from the car. “But don’t worry. I won’t send you down the river by yourself.”
Joe looked at Bart across the roof. “I appreciate what you’re saying. But I’m not sure it makes any sense for you to admit you were with me over at Murphy’s, does it?”
Bart leaned on his cane. “My prints are all over your car. I drove it. They’re on your steering wheel.”
Joe crossed the street ahead of Bart. “They have your fingerprints?”
“Of course. They’re in a database. Everyone has them: the FBI, State Bureau of Investigations, Miami-Dade PD… who knows where else. So, yeah, even if I wanted to leave you to deal with this mess yourself, I couldn’t.”
They walked into the station through the main entrance, across the brick-colored tile floor, and stopped at the desk. The officer behind it looked so young, Joe wondered how he could be old enough to wear the uniform.
Bart stepped up to the young man. “Good morning. We’re here for Sgt. Woody Thomas.”
The officer picked up the phone but held it in his hand before pressing any buttons. “Is he expecting you?”
“Of course. Yes. Just tell him it’s Bart. Bart Holden.”
The young officer looked up from the phone at Bart. “Bart Holden? Are you related to Officer Bart Holden, with Miami-Dade PD?”
“Related?” Bart nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”
The young officer smiled. “My dad was an officer with Miami-Dade.”
“Yeah?” Bart had a crooked grin on his face. “Who’s your dad?”
“Officer Carlson. Retired.”
“Eddie Carlson? He’s your dad?” Bart had an excited look on his face.
The young man nodded, looking at Bart like he’d met a celebrity. “He used to talk about you all the time.” He dialed the phone and put it up to his ear. He said into the phone, “Please tell Sergeant Thomas that Officer Bart Holden is down here in the lobby.” He paused, nodding as he listened to whoever was on the other end. “Yes, sir. Will do. I’ll send him right up.” He pointed toward the elevators as he hung up the phone. “He’ll meet on the fourth floor, so you can go ahead and head up?”
Bart reached out and shook the kid’s hand. “Tell your dad I said hello. Maybe I’ll give him a call sometime; we can grab a beer.” He started for the elevator and looked back at the young officer, then leaned toward Joe with his voice low. “What a real prick his old man was.”
The door slid open as Joe leaned against the rail across the back of the elevator, waiting for Bart to step off ahead of him. Bart’s limp seemed to be more pronounced than it was the day before, and Joe wondered if it would ever get better, or if the damage had been done.
He stepped off and followed as Bart turned right and continued down a short hall ahead of him. They were about to turn when Woody came around the corner in front of them.
He had a folder in his hand and his eyes went to Bart’s leg. “How’s it doing?”
Bart shrugged. “It doesn’t get better, I think I might just take a chainsaw to it myself.”
Woody huffed out a small laugh. “I’m sure it’s better than it was, no?” He continued ahead and pointed in the direction he was headed. “This way.” They walked past the elevator and down another hall until Woody stopped outside an open door. “We thought we had a lead on Craig Peters, but it turned out to be a dead end.” He gestured for Joe and Bart to walk through the doorway. “Have a seat in there. I’ll go get Officer Harper.”
Joe glanced at Bart, wondering if he knew who Officer Harper was, but didn’t ask. The room was bigger than an office but not by much, with wood paneling on the walls and white vinyl tiles on the floor. There was a bookshelf against the back wall and a round table in the middle of the room with four chairs around it. A laptop sat on the table with devices around it that looked like thumb drives, to Joe, but he wasn’t sure if that’s what they were.
Joe said to Bart, “You didn’t mention to Woody about me wearing a wire, did you?”
Bart sat down in one of the chairs, hanging the hook of his cane on the edge of the table. He got himself comfortable, then looked up at Joe. “I might’ve mentioned it to him.”
“I didn’t say I’d do it,” Joe said.
“Relax, Sunshine, will you? We’re just going to talk. Your other option is to go talk with the boys over at Miami-Dade. I can promise you they won’t be as accommodating as Sergeant Thomas.”
Joe turned to the door as Woody walked into the room with another uniformed officer behind him.
Woody said, “Joe, Bart, this is Officer Gary Harper. He’s recently taken over a new program in the department. He manages covert surveillance for us.” Woody introduced Joe as someone who’d been in and out of the station over the years as a crime reporter for the Miami Post. “And Bart’s a retired officer with Miami-Dade.”
Joe sat down next to Bart and looked over the items on the table. He looked up at Woody. “I don’t know what Bart told you I was willing to do, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.”
“With what?” Woody said.
“Wearing a wire.”
Woody sat down at the table, across from Joe and Bart. “The truth is, I don’t know how long I can hold off Miami-Dade. I’m actually surprised I even got the go-ahead to pursue Nick Juliano this way, simply based on everything Bart told me.” He looked Joe right in the eye. “The fact is, we need your cooperation. Otherwise, I can’t make you any promises. Those Miami-Dade officers are foaming at the mouth right now, with no other suspects they can link to Carl Murphy’s murder.” He shifted his eyes to Bart. “As I told you, you’re in the same position. So unless the two of you want to wait this out, see how out of hand it can get, I’m willing to put my neck on the line for you. But you’ll have to do your part to help me.”
Joe looked up at Officer Harper, standing over the table, thought for a moment, then finally nodded in agreement.
Woody looked at the devices on the table. “How about we let Officer Harper explain how some of these things work.”
Harper opened the lid on the laptop, walked across the room, and turned to the three at the table. He held up what looked to be nothing more than a silver metal pen. “Click the top, like this.” He clicked the button and placed it on the floor in the corner. “Now, take a look at that laptop. You can see the frequency levels. I just want to show you how sensitive this is.”
“That’s a recording device?” Joe said, looking at the so-called pen a good ten feet away from where they were sitting.
