5 Alive After Friday (7 page)

T
he
next morning, Sandy made the trip from Park Beach on Florida’s east coast
across the state to Sarasota, Florida on the Gulf of Mexico, to meet with the
mother of Calvin Boyd. Once away from the east coast populace, she drove past
acres of orange groves and through the much less developed land in the center
of Florida until she came back into the population centers along the Gulf
Coast.

With the top lowered and a blue sky, she didn’t
mind the three-hour drive. Her Miata MX-5 convertible was her refuge. Her hands
on the steering wheel gave her the feeling of power, not the power of the vehicle,
but the power of freedom. Freedom to escape the world, at least temporarily.

The only cloud on her horizon was the real
possibility that she was pursuing unattainable information—where Boyd had been
living. Assuming he was indeed Dick, then where had he been, and what had he
been up to the past two years? If he wasn’t Dick, then she had no idea how to
start chasing Dick and Jane. She didn’t have a Plan B.

She arrived at his mother’s house about noon. She
had waited until the Park Beach police had advised the mother of her son’s
death, so Sandy wasn’t the bearer of sad news. When they spoke on the phone, Mrs.
Boyd assumed that Sandy was part of the police investigation and wasn’t reluctant
to meet with her. She’d be home; she worked evenings as a hostess in a resort
hotel.

The woman who greeted Sandy at the door seemed to
have already moved beyond the heavy tears and sorrow. She talked easily about her
son at first. Calvin had been a lovely child. He grew to be a strong kid and was
good at sports in high school. She’d been so proud of him and watched him play
football on Friday nights, when she didn’t have to work. No, she didn’t have
any recent photos of him.

Those were good years, she explained. Just the two
of them, of course. Sure, he was a handful. You know how it is. Boys that age
are all mouth and muscle. Never studied much but always seemed to get by. Very
popular boy. Always seemed to have a girlfriend around. Funny, how those years
are gone in a blink of an eye. No, she didn’t know if there was anyone special
in his life now.

He lived at home and worked at a marina for almost
a year after leaving high school. She truly loved that year, cooking for him,
seeing him off to work. He liked being around boats. He said marine mechanics
made a lot of money, and there was a guy at the dock who could teach him. But
he came home early one afternoon. Said he’d quit his job. She didn’t know why. He
wouldn’t talk about it, other than saying; it was a stupid job anyway. She’d no
idea what he’d been doing the last few years. Had long since moved out of the
area, she supposed. Heard once that he was driving a delivery truck or
something. To tell the truth, they hadn’t kept in touch.

The older brother of one of his friends had been
in the Army, the Simpson boy. Came back and became a deputy with the Sarasota
County Sheriff’s Department. Calvin thought that was “really cool” and thought being
a deputy would be “really cool.” A basic requirement was an Associate’s degree,
and he talked of attending the nearby community college but never did anything
about it.

On one occasion, the police came to the house to
talk with him. He yelled at her and wouldn‘t explain what it was about. After
the police left, she had a terrible argument with him. Her son stormed out, and
then—

She put her head down, didn’t want to talk
anymore. Sandy would have to go. Sandy didn’t budge. Please leave now, she
meant it.

Sandy was at the opened door, when Mrs. Boyd reached
out for her hand. What happens to his body? She wanted to know. Would they give
him to her, if she went over there and asked them? Could she bring him home? A
sad moment. She had difficulty getting the words out. Sandy suggested she call
a local funeral director. He would take care of all the arrangements to bring her
son back home for burial, after the body was released by the Park Beach M.E.

“Here’s my card, Mrs. Boyd, have the funeral
director call me if there’s any problem.” They said goodbye and Sandy stepped
onto the porch.

The woman cried out, “I’ll bet you’ve never met such
a failure like me.”

Sandy quickly turned to come back. “Mrs. Boyd,
this isn’t your fault!”

But the woman held her hand up to stop her and
closed the door.

B
ack
in their Park Beach law office the next morning, Martin came in late bringing the
takeout coffee. Sandy was at her desk reviewing the transcript of Cal Boyd’s two-year-old
trial. He wasn’t surprised, when she told him about how easily Chip had accepted
her decision to pay the money.

“He accepted me handling the money-drop, however, that
was just the start of this affair. He insisted I not stick my nose any further
into the investigation.”

Martin said, “Why on earth would anyone think that
you might do something like that?”

She quickly briefed him on her trip over to Sarasota
and her interview Mrs. Boyd. “The main thing I learned was to forget about any Sarasota
angle and look for leads elsewhere. Cal’s mother has lost track of him, she was
ashamed to say.” Sandy carefully took the lid off the hot coffee. “Geez,
another unbelievably grand super-duper latte, triple jumbo high definition, I
suppose. I’m perfectly happy with a small black coffee but thanks anyway.” It
did taste special. Maybe someday she could bring herself to pay that much for a
cup of coffee. “How about you? Did you have a successful get together with
Vicki Susane yesterday?”

“I took her to The Club. I thought that would be
nice for both of us. She turned out to be an interesting woman.”

“The Club, huh? I suggested you charm her, not totally
blow her away,” Sandy laughed. “Anyway, did she give you anything worthwhile?”

“She was entirely cooperative. Yet, had no real
information on Boyd. She thought he went back to Sarasota, after his release. Said
he’d been working at some marina over there.”

“That was years ago, after high school. We have to
dig deeper,” she said. “Sounds as if we both struck out yesterday.”

Martin considered his first encounter with Vicki to
be far from a strike out. He quickly changed the subject, “Anything useful in
that trial transcript?”

She looked down at the file and tapped it with her
finger. “That bar fight he was in two years ago was actually over a woman, according
to this. Did Vicki say anything about that?”

He shook his head.

“No name or address for the woman in the file. Could
be just some girl who happened to be in the bar.”

“And Boyd made the mistake of looking at her twice.”

“Or, since he put the other guy in the hospital.
Maybe she was Boyd’s girlfriend and the other guy made the mistake of looking
at her twice.”

“And Boyd ends up in jail,” he said.

“I’d like to know her name. She might still be in
touch with him. Who knows, maybe they’re running around the countryside
committing crimes, such as kidnapping women?”

“Perhaps she visited him in jail during the trial,”
he suggested. “I believe they keep a record of visitors out there at the county
jail? Who do we know out there who can look it up?”

“Two years back? They’ll love digging into old
records. The sheriff doesn’t care too much for me to start with. Says trouble
follows me around. Now where’d he get that idea?”

“No comment.”

“Wait, how about this?” She stopped thumbing
through the transcript. “A witness testified for the defense. Here it is, Mary
Beth Taylor—the witness. Maybe she was his girlfriend.”

“If she were a witness, her address should be in
there somewhere.”

“Her two year old address at best.” She kept
leafing forward and back through the papers. “Here—Mary Beth Taylor, lived in
Port St Lucie back then. Let’s see what the Florida government has to say about
her.” She phoned Jaworski and explained why she needed info on the former
witness. “Eddy, can you bring up a Mary Beth Taylor. LKA Port St. Lucie. I hope
she still lives in Florida.”

After a short wait, Jaworski read off her address.
It hadn’t changed. “Thanks Eddy. I’ll give you a report on all this. Hey, while
you’re at it, please send me a copy of Boyd’s license as well. I want his photo
to carry around.”

Martin said, “Be careful, Boyd could have been
living with her. The girlfriend could be Jane.”

“I’ll play it cool. If she’s Jane, she won’t be
happy about us unmasking her so quickly. Eddy will have those printouts here shortly.
Then I’m off to Port St. Lucie. Not too far away.”

“You want me along?”

She shook her head while gathering the papers. “Should
be back early.”

“Phone and let me know how you made out.” He had
yet to tell her about his breakup with Judy. She’d be upset that he hadn’t
phoned her immediately with the news, so she could console him. He didn’t want
to get into it just then. He’d tell her later.

“Wish me luck. Boyd’s mother was no help. Let’s
see if his old girlfriend can give us a lead. If not, where do we go next?”

At three-thirty that day, Sandy phoned Martin. The
former girlfriend had given out good information. Sandy would be back in Park
Beach within the hour. They should meet at the police station.

Officer Judy Nagler greeted them when they
arrived. Detective Jaworski was out in the field somewhere and on his way back.
Sandy said, “How’s your daughter these days, Judy. You guys don’t need to worry
about a babysitter anymore, I’m sure.”

Judy and Martin exchanged a glance before she
answered, “Not at thirteen. She does babysitting gigs herself.” Judy changed
the subject. “You look pleased with yourself?”

“I tracked down Mary Beth Taylor, girlfriend of
our victim Cal Boyd. Works in customer service at Walmart in Port St. Lucie.
Nice girl, a little rough but nothing like her former boyfriend. She gave me
the two-year-old story. They’d been going together for about three months. One
night they were barhopping and ended up eating at a beach bar here in Park
Beach. Some gentlemanly tourist picked up her dropped napkin and handed it to
her. Boyd claimed the guy was trying to look up her skirt. He went all macho
and punched the guy. They ended the evening standing before a judge, and they
locked him up. Mary Beth dumped him after that. ‘Enough of that shit,’ unquote.
When I told her he’d been shot dead, she just shrugged. ‘Sooner or later,’ was
her response. She was surprised he’d showed up again in Park Beach.”

“Why?” Martin and Judy said together.

“Here’s the payoff for my chasing her down.” Sandy
looked pleased. “She heard he was going to some truck driving school in West
Palm. He’d always wanted to drive those big highway rigs. Said he often talked
about living down there where all the action is.”

Martin spoke up, “I don’t get that. If his license
was suspended, how was he going to be a truck driver in Florida?”

“I can help you with that,” Judy said, “I’m the
one who pulled up his driver license. The state suspended Boyd for one year for
habitual traffic violations. Not a real big deal in Florida. When his year is
up, he’ll have to pay a reinstatement fee and maybe take a driver improvement
course. All that might have been in the works.”

Sandy said, “So he could have been living in West
Palm going to truck driving school and waiting for his license reinstatement.”

“Meanwhile,” Martin added, “he was up here playing
abduction games and getting killed—assuming he is Dick.”

“So, maybe Jane is from West Palm also,” Sandy
thought aloud. “I wonder if the Palm Beach Post ran that announcement of our
getting the lawsuit money, and that’s where Dick and Jane got the idea. Otherwise,
how’d they know about the settlement?”

“Let me play Devil’s Advocate,” Judy said. “One
answer to all your questions is that Cal Boyd isn’t Dick and has no connection
with your adventure. Could be he was just an unlucky guy who was robbed and
shot. Dick and Jane could be two entirely other people still on the loose.
Maybe in Mexico by now.”

“Why was he riding a bike in a park over here in
Park Beach? He’s not a tourist and he doesn’t live around here,” Sandy asked. “We
know he came up here two years ago and got in a bar fight. Now, he’s up here
again getting killed.”

“Being up here isn’t necessarily criminal
behavior,” Judy said. “In fact, you don’t know any of his movements over the
last two years. You’re making good guesses. I’ll give you that.”

“When you don’t know anything, everything becomes
important. It’s the best lead I have and I’m running with it.” Sandy sighed. “I’m
off to West Palm first thing in the morning. I’m going to find out what Boyd
was up to there. With luck I’ll find he was messing around with Jane down
there.”

Martin frowned. “I’d like to go down there with
you, but someone has to cover the office. We both have other legal work we
should be doing.”

“Now I’m feeling guilty,” Sandy said. “I do have
work, especially that Belcorp case.”

“Even so, this is the start of the chase and I
want to be in on it,” he said smiling. “I could call a friend who runs an
Office Temp service in town to cover the office for the day.”

Judy yelled, “Run, Jane, run!”

“Let’s do it. Let’s both take a couple of days off
just to see if there is anything to be found in West Palm. I could use your
help. We’ll need both cars.” Sandy looked at Judy and then at him. “You sure? I
intend to camp down there overnight, maybe longer, until I find out about him.
Whatever it takes. Who knows, I might spend all night in an alley staking out
some dude.”

“No problem, let’s chase after Jane. I’ll get us
rooms at The Breakers.”

“Although I’m new to Florida, I’ve heard a room at
The Breakers is a thousand plus per night. That two hundred grand I gave away came
in and went out of my bank account so fast I didn’t have a chance to pay off my
credit card. You can do The Breakers, if you want. I’ll do a Holiday Inn. I don’t
plan to be in the room much anyway.”

Martin nodded. “How about we compromise on a Marriott?”

Judy seemed unconcerned about their cozy overnight
arrangement. “Anything else guys? I need to get to my other work.” She leaned
over and gave Martin a light kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for the help, Judy. You ready, Martin? Let’s
get back to the office.”

Once outside the building, she said. “Okay, what’s
going on?”

“You mean with Judy?”

“No, with the soybean commodity market. Yes, with
you guys?”

“There is no more ‘Us guys’. How did you know?”

“Because you look like someone just ran over your
dog.”

“I’m going to be okay.”

She stopped and turned to him. “Martin, what
happened?”

“Her ex is back in town. Although the change in lifestyle
thing might well have been part of it, I believe she still has feelings for
him. Apparently, her daughter made a big fuss over him. Judy might not be going
back to him, but she’s afraid of upsetting everything just now with me thrown
into the domestic mix.”

“My guess is you’d have smoothed out everything
with no upset at all. Geez, why did he have to show back up?”

“As someone just reminded me, chance plays an
important part in our lives.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sandy wasn’t worried about his
love life. He had a lot of appeal and so much going for him.

To change the subject, Martin said, “What time do
you want to leave for West Palm Beach tomorrow?”

“It takes only a couple of hours to get down
there. Why don’t we meet regular time at the office? We’ll leave from there.”

“I’ll bring in the coffee in the morning. Where do
we start once we’re down there?”

“His former girlfriend said he wanted to learn to
drive the big trucks. I have the address for two truck training schools down
there. You take one. I’ll take the other. Hit or miss, it’ll be a start.”

“So, we’ve nothing else to do up here?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, we do. Are you busy tonight...just
after dark, not late? I’m thinking we could take your car and go over to the
parking area at Lagoon Park.”

“And look at the moon? Sandy, this is so sudden!”
He chuckled, wondering just what she had in mind.

“That sounds nice. No, we’ll look for the ratty
kid who swapped bikes with dead Dick in the park that night. He hangs around
there. I’m going to jump him and take that bike.”

“Just as you did in grade school, I’ll bet.”

“I want to interrogate him. And I want that new
bike for prints—to find out where it was bought. If we can trace it, we might
find out where Boyd last lived. Your car because the kid knows mine. He’s no
doubt an expert at avoiding the police patrols. Probably knows the police
routine and times better than they do.”

“What if he doesn’t want to be captured? You want
me along to rough him up, put a hammerlock around his neck and sit on him.”

“A hammerlock holds the arm, not the neck, Martin.
Anyway, you could take this kid with one arm tied behind your back.”

“But does he know that?”

“Let’s head over to the Windward Bar and eat
something and have a drink. How does that sound? It’ll be dark by the time we
finish.”

One and a half hours later, all the tennis courts
in Lagoon Park were lighted, and twelve cars were parked there when they arrived.
“Must be tennis club night.” She motioned for Martin to pull on over to the far
corner of the parking area. “I suppose he’ll try to burgle those cars over
there in the dark first,” she said. “Or, he might not show up at all.”

“So he makes a living at this?”

“Amazing. Did you know the most popular place for
people to hide their valuables is under the driver’s seat? Now what car burglar
would ever think to look there? And standard advice is to put your valuables in
the trunk, which is better, yet once he gets the car door open, he can pop open
the trunk in many models. I’d like to put him out of business. That’s his night
job. During the day, anything not nailed down around the beach is up for grabs.”

“And anything he can pry loose is not nailed down,”
he added.

They watched quietly for five minutes.

She had turned in her seat and had a good view of
the parking area. “I’ll jump out if I see him. Call 911 immediately. Don’t wait
for me to need help.”