Bluewater Rendezvous: The Eighth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 8) Read online

  And when had they dumped the head? Where was the rest of that body, and who was it? If they were lucky, lab work would yield an identity, but even in the best case, that wouldn't happen soon. The forensic pathologist would be able to give them some estimate of the time of death. Then they might know whether the head was dumped before, after, or during the delivery of Welsh.

  He glanced at his watch and decided to stop at his favorite Thai restaurant for takeout. He was beat; all he wanted to do was go home to his empty apartment, shower, and crack a beer. He knew if he didn't take some food home with him, he wouldn't go out. Then he'd end up falling asleep in his favorite chair, book in his lap, to awaken famished in the middle of the night.

  His lonely existence made him think about Paul Russo. The solitary life of a divorced cop had been Paul's lot, as well. But no more. His retired partner had stumbled into a good thing while helping Mario's goddaughter. Paul had ended up with a gorgeous woman — his fiancée was a friend of Dani Berger's — and was living on a yacht in the tropics. Luke didn't begrudge Paul his good fortune, but he couldn't help feeling a little envious.

  ****

  Fats met Willy as he came out of the arrivals gate. "Don Guido's been calling every few minutes. He's lookin' for that passport."

  "Jesus," Willy said. "I get it that he's upset; she's his kid. But gimme a break. Not my fault the friggin' airport closed down for that damn thunderstorm."

  "He was bitchin' that you shoulda got it scanned and emailed it before you got on the flight. Or made a picture with your phone and emailed it."

  "I been trapped on the goddamn airplane for two hours. They wouldn't let us use our phones. Besides, I ain't got one of them phones that does shit like that. Turn off your friggin' cellphone until we get back to the villa. Don't turn it back on until I've sent him the damn picture. I'm too tired to put up with his shit right now; I might say somethin' dumb. Get myself in the shit like Joe Bones."

  "Yeah, but I doubt it. You'd have to go some to be as dumb as that fucker," Fats said, turning off his phone.

  "Rumor is we gonna be workin' for that asshole soon," Willy said.

  Fats shook his head and kept his mouth shut. Ten minutes later, they walked through the living room at the villa and went straight to the study. Joe Bones was waiting, standing by the fax machine, his hand already reaching for the single sheet of paper. Willy removed it from his canvas briefcase and put it in Joe Bones's hand.

  Joe Bones stuck it in the machine, but then a look of surprise flashed over his face. He snatched it from the sheet-feeder before Fats could hit the send key.

  "It's her!" he said, his voice rising.

  "You think it's Angela?" Willy asked. "I couldn't be — "

  "Hell, no!" Joe Bones said. "Not Angela. This is the bitch that shot me!"

  "Quit screwin' around and send it," Fats said. "He's gonna be climbin' the walls by now."

  "I'm goin' to the kitchen," Willy said. "I gotta eat; it's been a shitty day, and it's lookin' like a long night comin' up."

  Chapter 19

  "Hey, Lieutenant?"

  "Yeah, Joe," Luke answered, recognizing the desk sergeant's voice over the phone. He took a sip of the sour coffee in his mug.

  "We got one down here that you're maybe gonna want to talk to."

  "What's up? I'm buried right now."

  "Yeah, but I got a feelin' this may be connected to that whole Welsh thing. You're tryin' to collect all the recent missing person reports too, right? About that head you guys found?"

  "Yeah. That's true. So what do you have?"

  "This woman came in yesterday. Had the hell beat out of her; she could barely walk. She took a cab here, and the guy on the desk sent her straight to the E.R. You with me?"

  "Yeah, Joe, go ahead." Luke took another sip of coffee, wishing that the man would get to the point.

  "They kept her overnight — somethin' about a concussion. But first thing this mornin' she snagged a patrolman at the hospital and asked to come here. Said she had some information about Franco Andretti, and she wants us to look for her son. Andretti supposedly sent the kid to Brazil on some kinda errand, and nobody's heard from him for a few days. She thinks Andretti killed him. Told her he'd kill her, too if she didn't haul ass to Brazil by yesterday afternoon."

  Luke had put down his coffee cup and was scribbling notes, his interest piqued by Andretti's name. "How's she know Andretti?" he asked.

  "Says she was the manager of one of his clubs. His mistress, too. Until she pressed him about her son and he beat the shit out of her."

  "Her son got a name?"

  "Yeah. Juliano Gonzales. But everybody calls him Juju. We pulled his jacket. He's just a kid. Nineteen years old, but he's got a pretty messy record. Lots of small-time shit. Some of the guys who busted him thought he was muscle for Andretti, but nothing stuck. You want to talk to her? Or should I kick her out? She's scared Andretti's gonna kill her 'cause she didn't hightail it to Brazil like he told her to."

  "What's Brazil got to do with anything? She say?"

  "It's home for her. She's got family down there. Andretti sent the kid down there lookin' for some dame named, um ... hang on ... here we go. Cappelletti. Angela Cappelletti. Said Angela's Guido Cappelletti's daughter, and she's been missing for a while, like ran away from home."

  "Don't kick this woman out, and don't let her go to Brazil. Let's hold her in protective custody; she's a material witness in the Welsh case, for now, if anybody needs a reason."

  "Okay, Lieutenant."

  "Hang on, Joe."

  "Yeah?"

  "About that head. This is just a wild guess, but get somebody to run her over to the morgue. Arrange for her to view that head for a possible i.d. I got a hunch it may be her kid, Juju. If she thinks it's him, get somebody to swab her for a DNA match."

  "All right, Lieutenant. I'm on it."

  "And Joe?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Treat her nice; she's having a shitty time, and she may have just lost her kid. She's not a criminal, okay?"

  "Yeah, okay. But just so you know, she's got her own record. She's been busted for prostitution so many times over the last 15 or 20 years, the older guys in vice are on a first name basis with her. They been stoppin' in to buy her coffee, and ... "

  "Joe, that may well be. Right now, she's a victim of a violent assault, and she may have lost her son in the bargain. Don't give her any shit, okay? And make sure nobody else does. Thank her for coming in, and tell her we'll keep her safe from Andretti."

  "Yes, sir. I got it."

  "Good. Call me when you've got anything. I'll want to see her after she's been to the morgue."

  ****

  "I dunno, Franco. I don't want to talk to the bastard; I never liked him. I know he's got the education and the polish that everybody's lookin' for, and he's the one that's gonna replace me when the time comes. But he's an asshole."

  "But you wanted Angela to marry him, Don Guido," Franco protested. "I'm confused."

  "That's just business. The girl's gonna marry somebody. Might as well get some use out of her, after all she's cost me. I figure she's my ticket to a little time to live in peace in my old age. If she's married to the capo di tutti capi, ain't nobody gonna put a hit on her father."

  Franco frowned at that for a moment. "Yeah, okay. But he told Fats and Willy he recognized the woman in the picture."

  "He what?!"

  "The passport picture — "

  "It's just a shitty picture of Angela," Guido said. "He's sayin' he recognizes her?"

  "He's been tryin' to call you ever since last night, Don Guido. He's yellin' an' screamin' at everybody, sayin' that's the broad that shot him."

  "Shot him? In the knee?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then she ain't Angela."

  "No."

  "Where the hell's Angela, then?"

  "You may as well call Joe Bones, Don Guido. Either that, or let Willy and Fats put him away for good."

  "How the hell's cal
lin' him gonna find Angela?"

  "He's an asshole, maybe, but — "

  "Watch it, Franco. He's gonna be your boss. Show him respect," Guido growled.

  A puzzled look crossed Franco's face at that, but he shook it off. "But he's got an idea about findin' Angela."

  "Okay, okay. You're right. Get the son of a bitch on the phone. Let's get this over with."

  ****

  Guido sat at the desk in his study with Franco across from him. They were listening to Joe Bones as he laid out his reasoning. Guido's phone was on the desk between them.

  "Yeah, Don Guido, the picture does look a lot like Angela, but I know she's the one shot me. You put the two of 'em side by side, you can see the difference in their features. If you saw this Solanó broad in person, you'd know for sure that's her picture and not Angela's."

  "Okay, let's just say I buy that for a minute. Then where the hell's Angela?"

  "That's what I want to find out. If she did go to Brazil, then this Solanó broad's gotta be behind it," Joe Bones said.

  "I don't think Angela's in Brazil," Guido said.

  "Fats said you were gonna send somebody down there," Joe Bones said.

  "Yeah. Franco sent a guy."

  "So? He find anything?"

  "He found somethin', all right."

  "What, Don Guido?" Joe Bones demanded.

  "We'll never know. His head showed up in my fuckin' freezer a few days ago."

  "Jesus," Joe Bones said. "All the more reason for me to grab this Solanó broad. We gotta find out what the hell's goin' on, here."

  "Okay, Giuseppe. Say I agree with this. How the hell you gonna find her? We been lookin' for the damn boat everywhere."

  "We make her come to us, Don Guido."

  "Yeah? How you gonna do that, smart guy?"

  "Make 'em think we got somethin' they want."

  "The hell are you sayin'? Like what?"

  "John Welsh. They got into our shit so he and Angela could shack up together. He was a no-show in Antigua, so they gotta be wonderin' where he is."

  "He's dead, asshole."

  "Yeah, but they don't know that. Not for sure, anyway. Unless you didn't ... who dumped the body?"

  "There's this dim-wit guy handles that kinda shit for Franco. Half-breed Seminole. He dumps 'em in the Everglades, somewhere. Why?"

  "Long as there's no body, we got a shot at makin' them think he's still alive."

  "Yeah? Maybe so. Walk me through what you're thinkin'."

  ****

  "Good evening, Papa," Dani said. "What a pleasant surprise."

  "It is nice to hear your voice, Dani. Where is Vengeance tonight?"

  "We're in Les Saintes. Are you at home?"

  "Oui, unfortunately. It is cold and rainy in Paris. It is better to be in Les Saintes. Do you have a few moments to talk? I am not interfering?"

  "Not at all, Papa. We have a charter guest, but we're just enjoying a quiet evening aboard. What's on your mind?"

  "Your mother called earlier. She is having hysterics, I think. She tried to call you, but cannot reach you, and her emails, the same. She was worried enough to call me."

  "I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean for you to get caught between us. She's trying to drag me back into the bank; it's complicated. But you know how I feel about that, and she was being her normal, manipulative self, so I just decided to cut her off for a while."

  "I thought it would be something like this, but Dani, I think there is more that you should hear. And do not apologize. After all, it is because of me that she is your mother; I chose that. You did not, so I am the one to offer apologies."

  "Thanks, Papa. You said there is more?"

  "Yes. She is worried because the security man at the bank has learned that someone is making many inquiries about you."

  "About me? And my connection to the bank?"

  "Yes, so she says. When did you work there; what did you do; why did you leave. Someone is wanting to know all these things."

  "That's strange."

  "Yes. I think so. She says the man who is their security expert thinks so, too. So he has done some checking. He has learned that a private investigator named Sol Eisenstadt is the one who is snooping, as you say in the States. She is blaming this on you, perhaps. There was some irregularity with one of the accounts you used to handle, she said."

  "Yes. She told me about that. Rollie was stealing from them to buy cocaine. The client agreed not to prosecute if I came back and took over the account again. That's why she's been nagging me to come back. But that all happened after I left — the theft, I mean."

  "What did you say to that, Dani?"

  "I said no. Their problems aren't my problems. I don't even feel sorry for them; the trouble is all of their own making."

  "Yes, of course," J.-P. agreed. "Was this client perhaps involved with criminals?"

  "Not that I ever saw. Why do you ask?"

  "Because of this Eisenstadt. He is in New Jersey, this investigator. So I have made some inquiries. He is working for the Mafia most of the time. I have not told your mother this, but I am a little bit worried. At least, I think you should know."

  "Yes. Thanks, Papa. I appreciate your telling me; it may be important. Let me tell you what's happening with this charter."

  J.-P. listened without comment as Dani summarized their experience with Angela. When she finished, he said, "Yes. This Cappelletti, I have heard of him. From Mario. He causes many problems in South Florida with his drug trafficking. It draws more attention than we would wish. None of my business has been affected, but Mario has had some difficulties with his shipments. These people have tried to put their drugs into his containers of machinery."

  "I've talked with Mario, Papa. He's put me in touch with Luke Pantene; we're talking every day."

  "Ah. I should know not to worry about you, but still, I am your Papa. This Pantene, he is the one who has taken the place of Paul Russo?"

  "That's right. With the Miami Police Department. I think he was working with Paul on that task force already, before Paul retired."

  "Okay. So everything is in control, it seems. I will try not to worry, but you must call me if I can help, yes?"

  "You know I will, Papa. What are you going to tell my mother?"

  "It is not for me to tell her anything. You must do as you see fit when it comes to her. It is clear that I have no value to add in the relationship between you. Again, you have my sympathy."

  "Thanks, Papa. It's good to hear from you, and thanks for the information."

  "I love you, Dani. Give my best to Liz. Maybe Anne and I will visit in a few months."

  "That would be great, Papa. Let us know when; we'll block out the time so we can go sailing. Give my love to Anne. I love you, Papa. Bonsoir."

  "Bonsoir, Dani."

  Chapter 20

  Angela was trying to decide whether she wanted to spend another day in Les Saintes or whether they should move on to Martinique. Dani was listening but not participating in the conversation as Liz discussed the pros and cons with their guest. The chiming of the satellite phone interrupted them. Dani picked it up after the first ring and looked at the screen.

  "It's Luke," she said, as she pressed the green connect key.

  "Good morning." She listened for a moment. "Yes, we're all here — just the three of us." There was another short pause. "Hang on," she said, and pressed another key. She put the phone on the cockpit table. "Okay. You're on the speaker. Can you hear us?"

  "Yeah, fine. Good morning, ladies. I have some news; John Welsh is recovering consciousness."

  "Oh!" Angela yelped. "That's wonderful. Can I ... um ... is he ... should I ... "

  "It's progress," Luke said, interrupting, "but he can't remember anything. He woke up asking for coffee and breakfast early this morning, when the nurse was checking on him, but he didn't know his own name. He jabbered a little bit, and then dropped back off. They say it's a positive sign, but he could come and go like this for a long time yet. I just though
t you should know."

  "You're saying that I shouldn't rush home to be with him, then?" Angela asked.

  "Based on everything you've told me, I think you'd be safer staying out of sight down there in the islands for a while longer. We'll eventually figure out what's going on here, but right now, it's strange. I don't want to say too much, because it would just be speculation."

  "Do you think Giuseppe Bruni and my father are responsible?"

  "Like I said, I don't really know, so ... "

  "Is he still in Miami? Do you know?" Angela asked.

  "Your father? Yeah, far as I — "

  "No, not him. Bruni," Angela said.

  "Bruni was at your father's place in St. Thomas, last we heard. Why?"

  "I just wondered; he would do something like this, but ... I don't know."

  After a moment of silence, Luke said, "I'd better get to work. If there's any change in Mr. Welsh's condition, we'll let you know right away."

  "Thanks," Angela said, as Dani disconnected the call.

  ****

  Liz and Angela had taken the dinghy to Îlet à Cabrít. Angela had been watching the goats through the binoculars. She was fascinated when Liz commented on what sociable creatures they were. She had also read about the ruins of Ft. Josephine and wanted to explore them. The guidebook described the spooky remains of a failed resort among the rubble of the Napoleonic-era fort. She had been discussing the artistic possibilities of a photographic essay with Liz. Dani had decided to stay aboard Vengeance and cross a few items off her boat maintenance list.

  She was assembling her varnishing supplies when the satellite phone rang. It took her a moment to find it; she'd left it on the nav station. She had spent a few minutes sitting there earlier in the morning listening to the weather report. As she often did, she had used her iPhone to make an audio recording of the high seas weather forecast for later consideration. The iPhone was sitting beside the satellite phone on the chart table. She glanced at the caller i.d. screen on the satellite phone, but she didn't recognize the number. She pressed the connect button and said, "Yes?"