Sink, Swim, Die Page 13

  I’d gotten tired of standing and was sitting in the front passenger seat of Orahood’s bureau car with the door open when Carlson returned for me almost an hour later.

  “Any word on the injured?” I asked.

  “Pat and Trey are both in surgery. Mackay says the docs think they’ll be okay. Orahood’s awake, alert, complaining of the mother of all headaches.”

  “I’m sorry about the other guys. Any idea what happened?”

  “Sniper.” He pointed to one of the canals. “Hiding there.” He pivoted, pointed his arm at the second story. “He got Zane through the window.”

  There was a very small dark hole in the glass.

  “Hell of a shot,” he said grudgingly.

  I couldn’t help but think of Sloane and Cabrera. Probably the same guy. Possibly the same gun. “The sniper? Did we get him? Did you find the gun? He may have been the guy that shot Sloane and Cabrera.”

  “The guys on the boat,” Carlson said, indicating familiarity with the killings. “I was a Marine Scout Sniper. You might be right about the shooter.” He looked back at the house. “Anyhow, after he shot Zane, he went in the front door, went room to room, shot the other three.”

  “With the sniper rifle?”

  “No, my guess is he used a handgun with a silencer. That’s why he was able to kill them all, no warning noise.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, good guys who deserved better. Jose and Ben both had families.” He made a face. “Mackay’s going to have to tell ‘em. God, that’ll be awful.”

  Neither one of us knew what to say after that. We stood there in awkward silence until Carlson said, “Well, c’mon. I’ll get you in the house and you can start looking around. I’m not going to be able to help you. Mackay wants me to stick close to this McGinnis character, make sure nothing gets missed. Big scene like this, that’s easy to do.”

  From one of the crime scene techs, Carlson got us shoe covers and gloves. We put those on at the front door, signed the crime scene book, and re-entered the house. McGinnis was presiding over the scene, ensconced on a card table chair set up behind a folding table. Several evidence bags were already on the table, a tech sitting next to McGinnis logging them into an evidence register.

  I was expecting a snide comment from McGinnis as we walked past, but all we got was a disapproving glare. From the kitchen area, I heard the low murmur of voices and an almost constant stream of clicks. The photographers were taking more shots than the shooters.

  “Where’ll you start?” Carlson wanted to know as we started up the curved stairway to the second floor.

  While I’d been waiting to get back in the house, I’d had time to think about that. I’d gone back to my original question of: If I were Heather, where would I hide something?

  Ban had often spoken about how “over the top” Heather’s sizable closet had become, with its barrel ceiling painted to resemble fluffy clouds and blue sky. The room had to be important to her; she’d made it an elaborate sanctuary for all her expensive things. What better place to stow the diamonds?

  “I’m thinking Hea—”

  Carlson put his arm out, stopping me from going up the next step. “See that?” He pointed at a notch in the hall ceiling’s crown molding.

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s a surveillance camera. While you’re looking around, if you see the controls for it, let me know. It might tell us who got to the second floor and shot our guys.”

  “Sure,” I said as I led him down the hall to the master suite, which was the better part of the second floor, because it entailed not only the master bedroom but his and hers bathrooms, closets and a small study for Ban, and dressing room and monster closet for Heather.

  The furniture in the master bedroom, I knew, had been purchased on one of the foursome’s junkets to Italy. They’d paid a prince’s ransom to have the antique hand-carved, four-poster bed, dresser and highboy shipped home. They were exceptional pieces tied together by a needlepoint rug that warmed the Travertine tile floors.

  Unfortunately, a body was on that rug and blood had turned a large patch of it a blackish color. Two techs, one with a camera, hovered about the body. Both jumped when we entered the room. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here,” the one without the camera warned sternly.

  “McGinnis okayed it,” Carlson assured him. “We won’t be in your way. We’re looking for a closet.”

  Trying to look anywhere but at the body, I noticed another surveillance camera notched into the crown mold. I could understand putting one in the hallway. But the master bedroom?

  “I think it’s this way.” I said and headed down a small hallway. Doors on the hall’s left and right led to his and hers bathrooms. Past those, was another set of doors. The one on the right led to a generously-sized closet that held Ban’s clothes. The one on the left, however, was the door I was looking for. It led to the Taj Mahal of closets.

  “Oh, good God,” Carlson said. “That’s obscene.”

  Truer words may never have been uttered. The room was 24-feet by 30-feet and the barrel ceiling made it seem even larger. I felt around for the light switch, found it, flipped it. Lights on top of three walls of custom cabinetry artfully illuminated sky and clouds as well as the clothes below. This wasn’t just California Closets. This was Rodeo Drive Closets. Drawers, shelves, and racks galore. Every inch filled with dresses, slacks, blouses, tops, coats, hats, handbags, and shoes. In the middle of the space was a granite-topped island with drawer storage underneath. There were fashionable ladies boutiques in downtown Orlando with less inventory.

  “Why do I feel you got stuck with latrine duty?” From the amusement in Carlson’s voice, this was a job he didn’t want to touch. “I’ll leave you to it, brother. Be down with McGinnis if you need me.”

  He left chuckling. I studied the closet, thinking how best to approach it. My search needed to be thorough and systematic. When I was finished, I didn’t want second thoughts. I decided to start on the left side and continue to my right, saving the island for last.

  It began with a drawer stack. I removed each drawer, searched it, looked for spaces behind or below the drawers. Moved on to a triple rack of dresses. There must have been a hundred or more. I took them one at a time, lifting each by the hanger off the rack, checking the weight. On a shelf above those dresses were matching pieces of uber-expensive Valextra luggage in a medium blue. I pulled them down, zipped them open. One was empty, the other had two hardback novels by Jackie Collins. Beach reads, I guessed. The next rack held dress slacks. Again, by the hanger I lifted each one off the rack and checked the weight. Nothing in any of them, but moving them revealed an access panel on the back wall held in place by six screws. I had no screwdriver, but improvised with a belt buckle, looked in, got to see plumbing pipes and leftover construction dirt. I put the panel back in place and moved on to upper and lower racks of blouses. I rifled through them, but many of them were way too light and flimsy to hold diamonds. I moved on to something that looked more promising, six shelves of handbags. Eighty-six in total. Some had things in them, but not what I was hunting for. I moved on to a rack of business suits.

  Midway through, Carlson reappeared, bringing me a bottle of water and two granola bars. “McGinnis had stuff brought in,” he said simply.

  “Thanks.” I ate the first bar and started on the second. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. A look at my watch told me I’d been at this two hours. Dinner hour had come and gone. “What else has he got down there?”

  “This is pretty much it.” He nodded at the closet. “How much more have you got to go?”

  I looked back at the area I’d worked. Didn’t seem like enough for two hours. “I’m maybe halfway through.”

  “Find anything?”

  “No. But it’s here,” I said to reassure myself. “They wouldn’t have come after us if it wasn’t.”

  Carlson looked unconvinced. “Well, keep after it. They’re starting to move the bodies down from th
is floor. So you’ll have access to the other upstairs rooms.” He couldn’t hold back a grin. “If you ever finish this closet.”

  Shaking my head at his snide remark, I got back to it. I finished her suits and started a rack of coats. I took each coat off the rack, put it on the island, felt the length of the coat for lumps. I could imagine Heather cutting a slit in the lining of one of her winter coats, inserting the diamonds, secreting them between the coat’s outer and inner layers. No luck, however. Nor did I have any luck with a rack of long formal dresses and two racks of shoes. In fact, as I worked my way around the rest of the closet, all I found was mounting frustration. I glanced at my watch. Groaned when I saw three hours and forty-five minutes had passed. I was tired of this. I took out some of my frustration on the island. I pulled out every drawer, searched the interior spaces behind, checked the floor. From the island, I learned Heather had more underwear than Victoria’s Secret and, surprisingly, if her collection of undies had been a movie, it would have had a PG rating, not an R.

  What a colossal let down. I’d been certain the diamonds were in the closet. Doubts were creeping in. Worse, guilt. This hadn’t gone the way I’d imagined at all. I’d never expected people would die.

  I was pretty low when I walked out in the hall, lower still when I saw a black body bag being carried out of one of the guest bedrooms.

  Carlson appeared around the corner from the outside hallway. “Hey, I was coming to find you. They’re pretty much finished here. My guess is they’ll have everything loaded and out the door in an hour tops.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Really?”

  “It would have taken longer if they just had a normal crime scene team. They brought in everybody they could.” He paused. “Here’s the thing. Mackay still wants me to stick with McGinnis. So when they go, I’m going, too. MBI is sending someone in a cruiser to protect you and guard the house. Don’t know what time he’ll get here. Maybe before we go or—” He shrugged. “You might be here alone for a little bit. You okay with that?”

  I wanted to say sure, no problem. But, actually, I didn’t want to be there by myself. He must have seen it on my face.

  “Trust me, nothing more is going to happen,” he said confidently. “You’ll be fine.”

  Chapter 23

  I stood on the front porch, watched McGinnis and crew pack up the last of their gear, climb into their vans and cars, and drive away. One by one, they made their way out of the subdivision. When the last truck disappeared from sight, I had this creepy-crawly sense of foreboding. I knew the cause. This house was evil. Bad things had happened to anyone who had anything to do with it. And now the house had me all to itself.

  The thought made me shiver, but also caused me to get a grip. I hauled out my cell phone. Punched in a number I knew by heart.

  “Snappy Tomato Pizza,” a cheerful young lady answered. “Pick-up or delivery?”

  I ordered a large double cheese, double pepperoni and a two-litter of Diet Coke, explained where I was, that I’d be waiting on the front stoop and there’d be a large tip for the driver.

  A badly dented light-blue Mazda 3 with a throaty exhaust note and a Snappy Tomato flag flying above the passenger side window arrived thirty minutes later. The delivery guy handed me my two-litter, got the pizza out of the warmer. I paid him for the pizza, gave him a twenty dollar tip. “Thanks, man,” he said with a little two-finger salute. He got back in the car and shot out the driveway, the high-pitched exhaust whine trailing after him.

  I opened the box, took a heady whiff of pizza. Perfect. I looked one more time for the MBI guy. I’d gotten a big enough pie that he could have had some. But if he didn’t hurry up, it was going to be all mine.

  I started for one of the kitchens. But I didn’t like being so close to the open back of the house, so I snagged some napkins, a glass, a knife and fork (yes, that’s the way I like to eat my pizza), and carried everything upstairs to Ban’s study off the master bedroom.

  The space reminded me of his office at the bank. Big mahogany desk in the center of the room. Black leather executive desk chair. Stylish sofa and side chairs. Bookcase over the credenza to showcase his mementos. And he had some good ones. There was a picture of him taken with the Orlando Magic. A football with the Gator logo on it from their most recent national championship. A picture of Ban and the head honcho at Disney World sitting together in a rollercoaster car. My favorite photo, however, was Ban at Sea World, a forced grin on his face, holding out a fish for Shamu. There was some other stuff on the shelves, too. Autographed books. Tchotchkes. I didn’t pay much attention to any of it. I was busy clearing a place on his desk for the pizza box.

  I polished off half the pizza, a third of the Diet Coke. Still no MBI guy. I walked to a front window, looked out, thinking I might see him. Like the diamonds, he didn’t seem to want to make an appearance.

  Feeling more upbeat because my tummy was full, I resumed the hunt. I did a quick swing through the his and hers bathrooms then moved on to Heather’s dressing room.

  It was one of those rooms that was beautiful to look at and totally useless.

  It had a kidney-shaped desk, sofa, several side chairs, a tall mirror leaning against the wall, and a large Country French armoire. I went through the desk drawers, felt the cushions on the side chairs, opened the front of the armoire and thoroughly searched it. The armoire looked like it had never been used. Completely empty.

  I moved on to four bedrooms in the guest suite. All pretty much the same—king-sized beds, chest of drawers, sofa or set of chairs, ensuite bathroom. Three had bloodstains and police tape. I steered clear of those areas but thoroughly searched the rest. In all four rooms the chests of drawers and the closets were empty. Looking in the bathrooms, I had the feeling, none of them had ever been used. That left the beds and the upholstered furniture. I spent a lot of time on mattresses and box springs, but again came up snake eyes.

  There were a few more rooms to finish off the second floor: an upstairs laundry room, a screened in porch, and the utility room that housed the upstairs HVAC systems. I checked those, found nothing.

  Disgusted, I went back to Ban’s study for more Diet Coke. I uncapped the bottle, poured a glass, stood looking at the bookcase, waiting for the fizz to die down.

  A jolt of adrenaline hit me.

  Three wooden boxes were artistically stacked on the right side of the bookcase’s middle shelf, a larger burl walnut wooden box on the bottom, the diamond box in the middle, and a smaller wooden box with mother-of-pearl inlay on top. I had to hand it to Heather; she’d hidden the diamonds in plain sight. If I hadn’t known what the box looked like, I wouldn’t have given it a second glance.

  Heart beating wildly, I carefully removed the diamond box from the others, undid the latch, and opened the lid. What greeted me was unbelievable. All those diamonds sparkling at once. After the seemingly endless hunt, I’d finally found them.

  I wanted to yell. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to celebrate. I put the open box on the desk, chugged some Diet Coke, and laughed when I burped from all the carbonation.

  Still giddy, I dug Danny White’s business card out of my wallet, punched his cell phone number.

  “I found them,” I gloated when he picked up.

  “You did?” He sounded surprised, and I had a feeling I knew why. “That’s wonderful,” he said, making a quick recovery. “How soon can you get them to me?”

  “You know, Danny, you and I had an agreement,” I said thinking about the contract I’d gotten him to sign. “You shouldn’t have sent Mario after me.”

  “I didn’t send—”

  “Yeah, you did. You had to or he wouldn’t have invested so much time following me. So, Danny, our contract has been rendered null and void.”

  “You’re—”

  “Listen. Here’s the new deal. You, DeBeers, I don’t care who, are going to wire twenty million—”

  “Twenty. Are you crazy? They’ll never agree to th
at”

  “That’s your problem, Danny. Your buddy, Mario, was seconds away from slitting my throat. Don’t expect any sympathy from me.” I looked at his card. “Is this email address still good?” I read it to him.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll email you the wiring instructions. When the money’s in the account, I’ll deliver the diamonds. Do we have an agreement?”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Tell you how crazy I am,” I said. “I’m filing charges against Mario for attempted murder.”

  “What? No,”

  “You heard right, attempted murder. In fact, he’s probably being processed right now. Unless you agree to the new finders fee, and I mean right now, I’m giving the police your name and having you arrested as an accessory. That carries a minimum prison sentence of ten years.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Oh, yes, I can. It’s my next phone call.”

  “Don’t call. Don’t call.” He yelled. “We can work something out. Maybe not twenty—”

  “There’s no wiggle, Danny. The price is twenty million. Yes or no.” I heard him breathing heavily. “What’s it going to be?”

  Big sigh. “I’ll get the money.”

  “Smart decision. I’ll send you the wiring instructions.” I hit end, called up the wiring instructions email that I’d prepared earlier and saved in drafts changed the amount, hit send.

  I chugged the rest of my Diet Coke, pleased with myself. I’d found the diamonds, negotiated the new fee. Life was good.

  Chapter 24

  Juggling the diamond box, empty two-litter, napkins, and drinking glass on top of the pizza box, I made my way from Ban’s study to the main upstairs hall, where I heard movement in the previously silent house. Had to be the MBI guy. Perfect, I wouldn’t have to call LeeAnn to come get me.

  “Hey,” I shouted out. “I’m up here.” I looked over the railing, expecting to see him in the entry hall below. Instead, a man with a shaved head and a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm stepped out of a doorway ten feet in front of me. I recognized him from San Salvador.