Orchid Beach (34 page)

Holly realized that she had not even thought about what kind of clothes he was wearing. “Maybe so. But who would wear a gun while jogging?”

“Somebody who hoped to shoot something,” Hurd said. “There are deer and other wildife out here. Maybe Mosely just liked to kill things.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that,” she said. “Tell me, did you let
anyone
know you were coming out here?”

“No, you said not to.”

“Good. There’s something else I have to ask you about, Hurd. I’m sorry if it seems like prying.”

“Shoot.”

“Did Bob Hurst have anything to do with your divorce?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, was he having an affair with your wife?”

Hurd shook his head. “I don’t believe he was. They started seeing each other after we separated. He told me that himself. Our house was just down the street from his, and we had socialized a little while I was still married. Bob had been divorced some years ago. He was lonely, I guess. I wasn’t suprised that he and Linda got married.”

“So, after Bob started seeing your wife, he would have had access to her house?”

“Yes, I suppose so. I had moved out, into an apartment, and like I said, he lived just down the street. Why are you asking about this?”

“Because I think Hurst stole the Smith and Wesson thirty-two from her house, the one Chet Marley was killed with.”

“That makes some kind of sense, I guess. It was Bob who filed the burglary report for Linda.”

“A smart move,” Holly said. “Let me ask you this: remember the tape we heard of the bug in Barney Noble’s car?”

“Yeah.”

“You think that could have been Hurst in the backseat?”

“I honestly don’t know. It was impossible to identify a voice from what we heard. Wasn’t the FBI going to try to clean up the tape and improve the quality?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if it’s been done yet. I haven’t heard anything.”

“I think we ought to go talk to Bob Hurst,” Hurd said, looking at his watch. “He might still be at the station.”

“We don’t really have anything on him yet. The tape
isn’t good enough, unless the FBI can work wonders with it.”

“He doesn’t know how good the tape is,” Hurd said.

“You’ve got a point. Let’s go.”

As they walked into the police station, Bob Hurst was walking out.

“Got a minute, Bob?” Holly asked.

Hurst looked at his watch. “My wife’s expecting me for dinner.”

“You’re going to be late,” Holly said. She led Hurst to interview room one, with Hurd Wallace bringing up the rear, and closed the door behind them. “Sit down,” she said.

Hurst looked at Holly and Hurd. “What’s this about?” he asked.

“Put your gun and your badge on the table,” Holly said.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I gave you an order.”

Reluctantly, Hurst did as he was told. Hurd put the two items into his pocket, and they all sat down.

“Consider that I have read you your rights,” Holly said.

Hurst now looked worried.

“Bob, this is the one and only chance you’re going to have to help yourself,” Holly said.

Hurst watched as Hurd set a tape recorder on the table.

“Before we turn on the machine, I need to tell you three things. First, the FBI has had a bug in Barney Noble’s car for some time now; second, we know you stole the Smith and Wesson thirty-two from Linda’s house; and third, Cracker Mosely has confessed.” Mosely had confessed only to raping Rita Morales, but Hurst didn’t know that.

“Confessed to what?” Hurst said.

“It’s over, Bob. We’ve got you on tape taking money from Barney Noble to rat out the department.”

Hurst didn’t deny it. “What did Cracker tell you?” he asked.

“You have to tell us everything right now, or face…well, you know what you’ll have to face.”

Hurst began to sweat. “Jesus, I just got married,” he said.

Holly said nothing.

“I talk, I walk,” Hurst said.

Holly still didn’t speak.

“Look, I didn’t kill anybody! I can give you who did, but I have to walk!”

“We may be able to help you,” Holly said.

“I want a guarantee. I was there. I didn’t have a choice. But I didn’t kill anybody.”

“If that’s the truth, and you testify against them, tell us everything, and I mean
everything
, then I’ll recommend to the prosecutor that you walk.” She turned to Hurd and nodded.

Hurd turned on the recorder.

“I am Chief of Police Holly Barker,” she said into the microphone. “Deputy Chief Hurd Wallace is present.” She gave the date and time. “Detective Robert Hurst is present for interrogation. Detective Hurst, have you been apprised of your Miranda rights?”

“Yes,” Hurst said.

“Do you wish to have an attorney present during this interrogation?”

“No,” Hurst replied.

“Start at the beginning. Tell us everything,” Holly said.

Hurst took a couple of deep breaths. “I first met Barney
Noble at Hank Doherty’s house at a poker game last May. Hank, Barney, Chet Marley, Cracker Mosely, and I were present. It was the first time I had met Mosely, too. My car was in the shop, and Chet had given me a ride. When we were through playing, Barney offered me a ride home, and I accepted. We stopped at a hotel bar for a nightcap.

“Talk got around to money. I had lost a couple of hundred bucks, mostly to Barney, and I couldn’t really afford it. Barney gave me back my money and said he might be able to send some off-duty work my way. I had gotten soaked in a divorce and was pretty hard up, what with the alimony, and I said sure, I’d like that. Barney explained to me about Palmetto Gardens and how private the members wanted to keep it, and he said that it was important for him to know if my department ever had any interest in the place. All he wanted, he said, was a little advance warning. He offered me two hundred a week for that, and I agreed, and he drove me home. He gave me two hundred that night.

“A few weeks passed. I met with Barney once a week and told him I hadn’t heard anything, and he’d give me the two hundred. Then, all of a sudden, he tells me he wants me to follow Chet Marley when he’s off duty. I didn’t want to do that, but Barney pressed me and reminded me that I had been signing receipts for the money he’d given me. So I started to follow Chet. Turns out, he was meeting with a guy, some kind of accountant, who was working at Palmetto Gardens. I saw them talking in a bar twice, on successive nights. When my meeting day with Barney came around, he got pretty excited when I told him about it. Next thing I knew, the guy was gone. Barney said he’d been transferred to his security company in Miami. I figured the guy was dead.

“Chet went to see Barney about it, but Barney gave him a line, and, I guess, Chet couldn’t prove anything. I’m still following Chet at nights, and he’s driving around Palmetto Gardens, sizing the place up, and at the next poker game, he starts pumping Barney about the place. Barney didn’t like it. Next day, Barney calls me and says Chet’s meeting with somebody else from Palmetto Gardens. I followed Chet, as usual, but he lost me. This happened two, three nights in a row. I don’t know how he did it, but I just couldn’t stay with him. I reported this back to Barney, and he told me to keep trying, and he’d work it from his end.

“Pretty soon, it becomes clear to me that Barney knows more about the department and the way it’s run than I’m telling him. I ask him how he knows this stuff, but he won’t tell me. I go on for a few months, meeting with Barney every week, telling him stuff I’m finding out, but he already seems to know what I’m telling him. It’s like he’s using me just to check out his other information.

“Then one night I’m meeting with Barney and Mosely at a gas station on A1A, and Chet Marley drives by. We hop into Barney’s car and follow him. Barney figures if I can’t stay with Chet, then he can. We’re in Barney’s personal car, a Lincoln, instead of the usual Range Rover. So we’re following Chet south on A1A. Then Chet pulls over and when we pass, he flags us down.

“Oh, I forgot to say that Barney had asked me to get him a clean gun. I didn’t know why he wanted it, and I didn’t want to know, but he asked me for a gun. I gave him the thirty-two I had taken from Linda’s place. Barney turns his car around, and we pull over, nose to nose, with Chet’s car. Barney and Mosely get out. I’m ducking down in the backseat, because I don’t want Chet to see me. I hear some
arguing, and then there’s a single shot. I stick my head up and I can see Barney and Mosely, but I can’t see Chet. Then I see Barney wipe off the gun with a handkerchief and throw it over the fence into the woods beside the road.

“I’m petrified, you know? We’re on a public highway, and they’ve just shot the chief of police. Then I see Barney looking inside Chet’s car, and he goes to the trunk, too. Then he and Mosely get back in the car and we drive off. Mosely’s at the wheel, and Barney’s giving him instructions. He doesn’t say where we’re going, but a few minutes later we arrive at Hank Doherty’s place. Barney tells me to stay in the car. He and Mosely get out, and I can see that Barney has a shotgun. They go inside, and I can hear the dog going crazy—the dog never liked Mosely—but a minute later that stops. I guess Hank put her in the kitchen. Then, half a minute after that, I hear the shotgun, just once. A few minutes later, Barney and Mosely come out of the house. I start to ask questions, and Barney tells me to shut up. They take me back to where my car was. Barney gives me a thousand dollars in cash and makes me sign a receipt for it, then they drive off.” Hurst stopped talking.

“Who shot Chet Marley?” Holly asked.

“It must have been Barney. I gave him the gun, and I saw him throw it away.”

“Who shot Hank Doherty?”

“Barney had the shotgun when they went in; he didn’t have it when they came out.”

“What’s going on out at Palmetto Gardens, Bob?”

“I don’t have the slightest fucking idea, and that’s the truth. Barney never told me anything, and I sure wasn’t going to start asking questions, after seeing what happened to the accountant and Chet and Hank.”

“Who else was giving Barney information about Chet and the department?”

“I don’t know, I swear it. I’d tell you if I knew.”

“And that’s all of it?”

“That’s everything I know from day one, I swear to God. I mean, shit, Holly, what could I have done? I didn’t know he was going to kill Chet.”

“You could have arrested him as soon as you heard the shot,” Holly said. “If you’d done that, Hank Doherty would still be alive.”

Holly switched off the recorder. Bob Hurst began to cry.

CHAPTER
57

H
olly, Daisy, Hurd, Jackson, and Ham all arrived at the Community College gymnasium as the sun set. There were at least forty vehicles in the parking lot, mostly plain sedans and vans, some of them towing boats. Holly could see why Harry had wanted a quiet place to assemble.

The gym was a hive of activity. Piles of duffel bags lay around the polished wood floor, and weapons were everywhere. Men were checking assault rifles and small submachine guns. Everyone was dressed in black.

Harry waved Holly’s group over to a folding table that had been set up on the gym floor. “Everybody have a seat,” he said. He had a sheet of paper in his hand. “I’ve just heard from the National Security Agency,” he said. “They’ve decoded the microbursts on the transmissions from the Palmetto Gardens com center.”

Holly leaned forward in anticipation. “Do they shed any light on what’s going on out there?”

Harry looked at the sheet of paper in his hand. “Apparently, they’re having a golf tournament.”

Nobody said a word.

“This is a list of the entrants,” Harry said, and started to read. “Ben Hogan, Bobby Jones, Gene Sarazen, Walter Hagen, Harvey Pennick…” He read off another fifteen names. “Anybody got any ideas about this?”

Ham spoke up. “Harry, are you a golfer?”

“No.”

“You know anything at all about the game?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t know that all the people whose names you just read out are either dead or very, very old?”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Anybody got any ideas?”

“Harry,” Holly said, “why would they go to the trouble to encode into microbursts the names of twenty dead golfers? Is this some kind of cryptographic joke?”

“Is there anything else in the microbursts?” someone asked.

“Just stuff about the golf tournament,” Harry said. “‘Exciting news: Bobby Jones will be playing.’ That’s one. Here’s another. ‘Players will be glad to hear that the prize money has been increased.’” Harry looked around the table. “Any ideas?
Anybody
?”

“Let me get this straight,” Holly said. “All the microbursts are about more golfers signing up and the prize money being increased?”

“That’s it. None of it makes any sense.”

“Maybe the names are a kind of code, too,” Hurd Wallace said. “Maybe they’re just substitutions for real names.
You can’t crack that kind of code, can you? When one name is simply substituted for another?”

“I guess not,” Harry said. “But why would they encode the names of players in a golf tournament?”

Holly’s eyebrows went up. “Appalachin!” she said.

“The mountains?” Harry asked.

“Maybe the FBI would like to forget Appalachin, New York,” Holly said, laughing. “After all, it was a New York state police bust.”

“Appalachin, New York?” Harry said. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Because it was the biggest Mafia meeting of all time—back in the fifties. The commission—the heads of all the families—had a big meeting at a country house in Appalachin, New York, somewhere upstate. The New York state police got wind of it and raided the place. There were guys in silk suits running through the woods like deer, with state patrolmen chasing them. It was a huge embarrassment for the mafiosi and a major coup for the New York cops. I think J. Edgar Hoover was still denying there was a Mafia at the time.”

“Palmetto Gardens isn’t Mafia,” Harry said. “This is way too slick for those guys—too classy and too rich, as well. The Mafia could never muster the kind of money it took to build that place.”