Falafel Jones - Max Fried 02 - Payback's a Beach (11 page)

“Oh.” Sheila paused, perhaps to reflect on the possibility I wasn’t as clueless as she thought. Then she said, “I’m in the kitchen. It’s spotless like I left it last night.”

“OK. I’ll see what I can do.”

By now, Mariel was up. She scooted over and sat next to me in bed. “What happened?”

I told her and she said, “What are you going to do?”

I started to dial the phone. “If I can’t get him on his cell, I’ll go look for him.”

Mariel stood. “You do that. I’ll go start the coffee.”

After two tries, I gave up. Each time I dialed, my call went straight to Ed’s voice mail. I shuffled into the kitchen to eat breakfast and then updated Mariel while I made myself an onion and cheese omelet. As my egg cooked, I thought about leads I needed to pursue.

Mariel sat sipping her coffee and I said, “I need to find out when Bucky’s ship went under the drawbridge.”

“Why?”

“If Fisher had Bucky’s money in gold, Bucky may have tried to recover it.”

“What about Ed?”

“I mean after Ed.”

“How will you do it?”

“Ed was supposed to contact the bridge tender but other things got in the way.” I sipped some coffee. “What the heck, I’ll drive up there and see what I can find out.”

As soon as I took the first bite of my omelet, the phone rang. Mariel picked it up, said, “Yes?” and then handed me the phone.

I hurried to swallow. “Hello?”

“Max Fried?”

“Yes.”

“This is Officer Carlyle. Captain Fleming would like to speak with you.”

“OK, put him on.”

“No sir, you need to come down to the station. Captain wants to see you in person.”

“What’s this about?”

“I can’t say. You’ll have to ask the captain.” I agreed to stop by later in the day and the officer disconnected the call.

Mariel looked at me. I said, “Captain Fleming from NSBPD wants to see me today and no, I don’t know why.”

“Don’t they usually send someone for you?”

“Yeah, Torres does, but this time, Captain Fleming wants me.”

After breakfast, I looked longingly at my swimsuit and reluctantly donned cargo shorts and a golf shirt. I chose to wear the free “Code Breaker” golf shirt they gave me at one of my computer forensic classes. I wanted to look credible when I met with the captain but I was damned if I was going to dress up.

The island isn’t too big so I didn’t think it would all that hard to find Ed. I started with the donut shop on Third Avenue because I know Ed likes their bacon, egg and cheese sandwich on French Toast. I pulled into their parking lot but didn’t see his car. I made a U-turn and drove east on Third until I reached the Best Western hotel on A1A. Their second floor restaurant has floor to ceiling windows that provide a panoramic view of the ocean. The dining area is small which means that every table has a beautiful view of the sand, surf and ocean beyond. It’s my favorite place to breakfast out and I love their garden omelets. Ed likes it too. I got lucky and saw his Mercedes in the lot.

When I entered the restaurant, I found Ed and Brenda sitting next to the window at a table for four. I waved off the waitress coming to seat me, pointed to Ed and said, “I’m meeting friends.”

She followed me to their table and after I sat down, left me a menu.

Ed looked up from his food and said, “Figured you’d find me.”

“And I figured you would. Thanks for making it easy. Hi, Brenda. How you doing?”

She gave me a weak smile as she hunched over the orange juice in her hand. “I’m OK.”

“How’d you two find each other?” I asked.

Ed cut into his cheese omelet. He said, “Came here for breakfast and saw her car in the parking lot.”

Brenda shrugged. “I booked a room at the hotel. I guess I don’t have what it takes to be a good fugitive.” She leaned back in her chair. “I called the house but nobody answered and I didn’t want to leave a message. I wasn’t going to call but all of your messages made me realize how worried you were. I’m sorry. I was OK. I didn’t mean to upset anybody but I had to get away for a while.” She used her spoon to scoop up three potato puffs from Ed’s plate and dumped them on hers next to what looked like an egg white and spinach omelet. “I’m having a hard time dealing with the chance I might go to jail for something I didn’t do.”

I said, “Your mother’s worried about you.”

Brenda’s head retreated between her lifted shoulders as if she was trying to hide.

I looked at Ed. “She’s worried about you too. Afraid you’ll miss your meeting with the judge.”

Ed said, “I can’t go,” and went back to eating.

“What? Whatever might happen to you will be worse if you don’t show.”

Ed put down his fork. “They can only check for ruffies in the first 72 hours and it’s almost been that long. After that, you have to wait about a month for it to show up in the hair and a lot can go wrong in 30 days. Brenda and I discussed it. She wants to take the test.”

“The test Sheila refused?”

Ed nodded.

“So that’s why you’re avoiding Sheila?”

“Only for the last hour when I found Brenda.”

“I already spoke to Fitzpatrick. He’ll do the test but we’ve got to act fast, while the drug is still in her system.”

“How about I take Brenda to the station?”

Ed looked at Brenda and she shrugged, “Sure, Dad. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Ed said, “OK, but no questions. The agreement is she takes the test but doesn’t answer any of Torres’s questions. You got that Max?”

“Yeah, no questions.”

Ed looked at his watch. “Gotta go. Let’s meet for lunch at Bobbi and Jack’s.” He stood, leaned over and kissed Brenda on top of her head. He said, “Love you,” then “See ya, Max
I’ve got to be in court… maybe for the last time.” He
exited the restaurant just as the waitress handed me his check.

Brenda and I drove up A1A on the mainland to the New Smyrna Beach Police building and presented ourselves to the officer behind the thick glass in the lobby. “Max Fried and Brenda McCarthy to see Detective Fitzpatrick.” The officer picked up a phone with one hand while he buzzed us through with the other. When we went through the security door into the precinct, Fitzpatrick and a woman in a lab coat were waiting for us.

“Hi, Brenda,” Fitzpatrick indicated the woman in the lab coat. “If you follow Ms. Jacobs, she’ll take your sample. Fried, why don’t you come with me?” The two women went down the hall and Fitzpatrick led me into an interview room. He gestured for me to sit and then he shut the door.

“You’re a popular guy. When we’re done, Captain Fleming wants to see you.”

“So I’ve been told. What’s up?”

“You’ll have to ask him. All I know is Brenda changed her mind about the test.”

“Yeah. How long for the results?”

“Pretty quick. It’s a dip test.”

“Where’s Torres?”

“Courthouse. He’s working on a warrant.”

“For what?”

“You know I can’t say. Where’s Brenda’s dad?”

“Courthouse.”

“Figured there had to be a good reason McCarthy’s not here with his daughter.”

Someone knocked on the door and when Fitzpatrick opened it, I saw Brenda and Ms. Jacobs in the hall. Jacobs placed a hand on Brenda’s arm, smiled at her and then went down the hall carrying a covered cup. Brenda entered our interview room and Fitzpatrick pulled out a chair for her.”

“OK,” he said. “While we’re waiting. We got the lab report back on the
Amante.
They
found ruffies in the rum.”

Brenda looked upset. “I didn’t drink any rum. I made a vodka and tonic, but I’m telling you. I was drugged.”

“We’ll know in a minute.”

Someone knocked on the door and Fitzpatrick opened it just wide enough to stick his head through the gap. I heard him talk to someone but I couldn’t hear what they said. He closed the door behind him. “Brenda tested negative for ruffies. No drugs in her system.”

Brenda stood up. “What? But I was drugged. I don’t remember anything after dinner that night.”

I put my hand on her back in an attempt to comfort or at least calm her. “Could it simply be too long since she was dosed?” Brenda sat down and started chewing on her lower lip.

Fitzpatrick shrugged. “Hmm, could be. The test is only good for maybe 60 to 72 hours after dosing, but according to the lab report, they found ruffies in the rum, the vodka, the tequila… all of the alcohol on board the
Amante
was drugged
.

I said, “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that all of the liquor on board’s been drugged?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

Fitzpatrick shrugged, “We don’t know what to make of it either.”

“Well, if nothing else, it supports Brenda’s story she’d been ruffied.”

Fitzpatrick moved side to side from the waist. “Well, even if she tested positive, the test can’t tell us if she was drugged before or after Fisher was killed, and we’ve got bigger questions like who would doctor all the alcohol and why. Drew Fisher wouldn’t have drugged all of his own stuff.”

“No, it seems more like somebody else wanted Drew drugged.”

“Right. We’re not seeing Brenda as the target, but why would somebody want to drug him?”

“Did he drink any of his own booze?”

“We got his tox report from the M.E. but when you read it, things make even less sense.”

“Why? What was his blood alcohol concentration?”

“That was an interesting thing about Fisher. His body showed signs of long term heavy alcohol abuse, but his blood was clean.”

“So, he hadn’t had a drink in a while?”

“No. He finally confronted his problem.”

“They can tell that from an autopsy?”

“No and yes, we found a sobriety chip from AA in his personal effects and the M.E. found Disulfiram in his blood.”

“Disulfiram?”

“Also known as antabuse, a pill that makes you feel really sick if you drink alcohol. You take it daily and it lasts a few days. Looks like Fisher was kicking the booze.”

“Did they find roofies in his system?”

“No”

“So, he stopped drinking just in time. If he binge drank on the way here, he likely would have spent his entire trip passing in and out of consciousness. On a boat in the Atlantic, that could be deadly. Ironic he avoided that fate only to be murdered.”

“Could be why he was bludgeoned.”

“Right. The first attempt failed so the killer tried a more direct approach.”

“It’s beginning to look that way.”

I stood up. “So we’re free to go.”

“Well, we got other things to look at but Brenda’s not off the hook yet. She can go now but she’s still a person of interest. You, on the other hand, have an appointment with the captain.”

Brenda said, “Max, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait by the car.” She lowered her voice and leaned in close to me. “I don’t want to be in here.”

“Sure,” I said and handed her my car keys. “Why don’t you wait inside?”

Fitzpatrick opened the door, signaled an officer waiting outside, and said, “This is Mr. Fried. Captain wants him.”

The officer beckoned me to follow and I did. As we walked down the hall, Fitzpatrick said, “C’mon, Ms. McCarthy. I’ll see you out.”

The officer led me to a door marked “Captain Fleming.” He knocked once and opened the door. Inside, Fleming looked up, “Fried?”

My escort said, “Yes sir,” closed the door and left us alone.

Fleming pointed to a chair facing his desk, “Sit.” I sat.

“You know why I sent for you?”

“No, do you know why the police always ask me why they did things?”

Fleming shook his head, “Well, at least Torres was right about that.”

“Right about what?”

“You being a wise ass.”

“Is that what this is about? Verifying Torres’s characterizations?”

Fleming shifted in his chair. “Not exactly…” he paused a moment and then said, “I need to verify something else.”

I was sufficiently perplexed to sit quietly and listen.

“Forensics ran tests on the alcohol found on the
Amante.
Somebody dosed each and every bottle with ruffies and wiped all the fingerprints from all the bottles. Well, all except for one spot on one vodka bottle they missed where we found Brenda McCarthy’s prints.” Fleming stared at me.

I shook my head. “The prints could have been made after someone wiped the bottles. Brenda poured herself a drink, not realizing someone drugged the alcohol.”

“If that was the case, a test could have proved it but your client’s attorney refused to allow one.”

“She just submitted to a test now.”

“Yes, afterward.”