CHAPTER TEN
The place was almost empty. I took a booth toward the back of the restaurant, but with a view to the front door. I ordered a Miller Lite from the waitress and told her I was expecting a guest. J.D. arrived about five minutes later. She swooped in, hugged me, shifted her gun around to a more comfortable position, and took her seat facing me.
She looked at the bottle on the table. “Beer? At lunch?”
“I’m a sybarite. What can I say?”
“Hmm,” she said. “I think something’s on your mind.”
“I had a visit from a ghost this morning. An old buddy from the war. I haven’t seen him since we left Vietnam.”
“Ouch. I know you don’t like to think too much about those days.”
“Yeah. Have you had any luck on the murders?”
The waitress came for our orders. The menu was long and complicated. A lot of dishes were named for movie stars of the ’30s and ’40s. I knew it was all good, and I ordered potato pancakes and a brisket of beef. J.D. had a salad and a Diet Coke.
“Which murders?” she asked.
I noticed a little crinkle around her eyes. I looked at her, waiting for the smile. She favored me with it and I melted a little.
“Why don’t you bring me up to date on all murders on the island in the last three months.”
“Does this have something to do with your visitor this morning?”
“Yeah. My pal’s name is Charles Desmond. Ring any bells?”
She sat back in her seat. “The dead guy on the beach is your buddy’s son?”
“Was.”
“Well, yes. Was.”
“I didn’t make the connection until he came by this morning.”
J.D. blew out a breath. “He’s a nice guy. I wish I could help him, but we’ve run into a blank wall on the investigation. He calls now and then, but I never have anything to tell him.”
“He wants me to file a civil suit.”
“Against the department?”
“No. He thinks you walk on water. He wants to use the suit as a vehicle to help you find evidence.”
“I knew he was rich, but I’d think he’d have to have more money than God to get you out of retirement. Who’s he going to sue?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know where to start. I was hoping you’d share your file with me.”
“I’d have to run that by the chief.”
“If you’re willing to help, I’ll call the chief myself and ask him about it. I didn’t want to step on your toes.”
She grinned. “You were afraid I might react negatively and kick your butt or something.”
“There’s that. Plus, I want you on board with me.”
“If the chief says it’s okay, I’m all for it. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“I’m not getting paid, by the way. Just in case you’re interested.”
“I didn’t think you were. Mr. Desmond must have been a good friend for you to come out of retirement for him.”
“A long time ago he put his life on the line to save mine. No matter what you do after that, you cannot repay the debt in full. It’s one thing to save a life, like a nurse or doctor, but it’s so much more when somebody puts saving your life in front of saving his own.”
“That’s some motivation you’ve got there, friend. Be careful that you don’t get too close to the fire. You could get burned.”
We ate a leisurely lunch, talked of things of little seriousness, laughed a bit, exchanged a couple of jokes. Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. “Dispatch. I’ve got to take this one. Sorry.”
She left the booth and walked outside. She was back in a couple of minutes, put a ten dollar bill on the table and said, “Duty calls. I’ve got to interview a lady who lost her watch at the airport in Detroit last March. Says she needs a police report for the insurance company.”
I laughted and handed her the ten. “This one’s on me.”
“Wouldn’t that fall under bribing a cop?”
“It might, but you can trust me. I’m a lawyer.”
She laughed, snapped the bill out of my hand, and left.
I went from the restaurant to the police station. I stood inside the waiting room and watched the dispatcher finish a telephone call. She rolled her chair over and opened the sliding glass window that separated her from the public.
“Hey, Matt,” she said. “Who’re you here to see today?”
“Hey, Iva. Is the chief in?”
“Sure. Let me tell him you’re here.”
She shut the little window and picked up the phone. She said a few words, hesitated, hung up, and motioned me through the door that led to the offices in the back of the building. I walked down a short hall and knocked on the open door of Chief Bill Lester’s office. His head was down reading a memo, one of dozens strewn across his desk top.
He looked up. “Come on in, Matt. Damn paperwork gets bigger and bigger. How’re you doing?”
Bill Lester was my fishing and drinking buddy and the guy with whom I regularly shared a grouper sandwich at the Sports Page Bar and Grille in downtown Sarasota.
“You gotta come out from under that mess sometime. You want to meet me for a beer at Tiny’s this afternoon after work?”
“It’s a date. But you didn’t just stop by to offer me a beer.”
I told him about Doc Desmond and that I wanted his permission for J.D. to show me the police investigative file. I also told him what I wanted to do with any information I turned up.
“Might as well, Matt. We’re at a dead end here. Who knows? You might turn up something that we can hang our hat on. Tell J.D. to give you the file and any help she can. I worry that I’m not keeping her busy enough. I know several agencies around here that would jump at the chance to hire her.”
“I don’t think she’s going anywhere, Bill, but I’ll put her to work.”
“Go for it. Keep me in the loop.”
The chief went back to his paperwork and I headed home. I called J.D. and told her what Lester had said and asked if she’d like to drop by my cottage later that afternoon. She said she’d make a complete copy of the file and bring it with her.