E
than said, “What I’ve learned is that Denton Ferrelli has a history of smelly financial deals, and he always has help from organized crime and corrupt politicians. Like he brokered around five billion a year in deposits into savings and loans all over the country. But first he got an agreement that the S and Ls would lend the money to people he named. Every one of them was somebody with the Mafia.”
My eyes got big at the word
Mafia
, and Ethan smiled grimly.
“Like they say on the street, Denton has connects. Not just with the mob but with a lot of politicians. Dirty money goes into a bank or a savings and loan, comes out clean through unsecured loans, and goes into the pockets of crooked politicians. Then they use their clout to help the people who bought them.”
“What about Leo Brossi?”
Ethan held up two fingers squeezed tightly together. “Denton and Brossi are close. A few years ago, Leo Brossi got a Miami bank to loan him four million dollars with nothing but his personal guarantee as security. On the day the loan was finalized, Brossi loaned the same amount to a real estate company owned by Denton Ferrelli and Wayne Black.”
“The same Senator Wayne Black who was playing golf with Denton when Conrad was killed?”
“The same, only he wasn’t a senator then. Now get this: Ferrelli and Black used the money to buy a building in Miami’s
prime financial district. They never paid a dime on their loan from Brossi because their deal with him only required them to repay the loan if the cash flow from the building was sufficient to cover it. They claimed it wasn’t, so Brossi then defaulted on his four million bank loan.”
“But how—”
“Money talks, Dixie. It speaks in a very loud voice. The bank sued Leo Brossi. It also sued the Ferrelli and Black real estate company. But because of some political maneuvering, the FDIC stepped in and arranged a highly unusual settlement whereby Ferrelli and Black only had to repay half a million and Brossi didn’t have to pay anything. To sweeten the settlement, Ferrelli and Black got to keep the building.”
My brain cells were groaning from the strain of trying to follow slippery financial deals involving millions and billions. My brain was more acquainted with numbers in the hundreds.
Ethan leaned over the table. “Dixie, you shouldn’t be going around asking questions about Denton Ferrelli or Leo Brossi. Those guys play dirty, and they play for keeps. You’re nothing but an annoying insect at their picnic, and they’ll smash you without a second thought.”
“They’ve already tried to smash me.”
“Me too. Now that Stevie Ferrelli won’t be taking Conrad’s place, Denton is putting pressure on the other board members. He wants to kill the plans for the circus retirement home, and I’m fighting him. That means I might as well have a bull’s-eye painted on my back. I’m not a big name in the legal world, but Denton can make it so I won’t even get work doing simple wills.”
I was sure what he said was true, and there wasn’t a thing I could say to make it less depressing. We tossed our empties in an open trash can and ambled back to the vet’s parking lot.
As I got into the steamy Bronco, I said, “Thanks for the coffee, Ethan, and for the shoulder.”
“Anytime.”
“Next time I hope I won’t need the shoulder.”
Surprise registered in his eyes. “Me too. See you, Dixie.”
I had my engine running before he was in his car, and my heart was doing a tango. What the hell was wrong with me? Last night I’d realized I was attracted to Guidry, and now I’d just given a not-so-subtle notice to Ethan Crane that I’d like to get better acquainted.
As I pulled out of the lot, I muttered, “Get a grip, girl. Next thing you’ll start having fantasies about cucumbers and zucchini.”
Back at Mame’s house, I examined the urine-stained rug in the study and decided it had to be cleaned by professionals. I called a company and made arrangements to meet them Monday morning. I washed Mame’s food and water bowls and stacked them on a pantry shelf. I put her collar and leash on the top shelf of the hall closet. I vacuumed up russet dog hairs. I took the opened bag of organic senior kibble and a box of Jubilee Wafers to pass along to another elderly dog client. When—or if—the Powells returned, it would be to a house that showed no visible signs that Mame had ever lived there.
I locked the door behind me and headed south on Midnight Pass Road, retracing the zigzag route I’d taken earlier but this time visiting cats and birds. It was after eleven when I finished with the last cat and drove down the tree-lined drive to my apartment. Exhilarated after last night’s storm, the treetops were filled with songbirds and parakeets chirping their heads off, and every seabird in the area was drawing exuberant circles and loops in the sky.
When I came around the last bend, I saw Guidry’s car parked beside the carport. I pulled the Bronco into its slot and started toward my stairs, then detoured to the wooden deck when I saw Michael and Paco and Guidry sitting at the table. I expected them to be celebrating Paco’s success, but all three men wore strained faces. Actually, only Guidry and Paco looked strained. Michael’s face was thunderous. Something was up. The air was crackling with it, and whatever it was had made Michael mad as a stuck bull.
I gave Paco a big smile. “Good job this morning.”
He took the praise like a dog. A nod, a smile. No preening, no aw-shucks-it-was-nothing silliness.
I said, “Too bad Brossi wasn’t there when you made the bust.”
“He was supposed to be, but somebody slugged him yesterday and broke his nose. He was home with an ice bag.”
I met Guidry’s gaze and felt my face grow hot with remorse. My little escapade yesterday had allowed Leo Brossi to escape arrest this morning.
Guidry said, “He’ll be taken in, don’t worry.”
Paco gestured toward their coffee mugs. “Want some coffee?”
“No, I want food.”
Like a gladiator hearing the call to battle, Michael was instantly on his feet and headed toward the kitchen.
Paco looked at Guidry and tilted his head toward the back door. “Let’s go inside.”
I went ahead of them to the kitchen. I was a good hour beyond my limit of going without breakfast. Whatever Paco and Guidry had to tell me would have to wait until I’d had something to eat.
Michael was already slamming food from the refrigerator to the cooktop, laying paper-thin slices of ham on the grill and topping them with Gruyère cheese, grilling a split croissant beside them, and somehow with a few moves putting it all together and flipping it on a plate next to a slice of honeydew melon.
Paco and Guidry cast covetous looks at my plate, so he did the same for them and then for himself. Paco poured a round of coffee for everybody, and we all sat around the butcher-block island and ate like hogs. I was surprised that Guidry knew the trick to eating a sandwich that oozed melted cheese, but then I remembered he was from New Orleans. Probably had a French nanny who made him
croque-monsieurs
when he was still in diapers. Probably wore pure linen diapers too.
Once my stomach was reassured, I said, “You guys have something to tell me?”
Michael’s face darkened, and he got up and started putting food away with a vengeance.
Guidry said, “We picked Gabe Marks up for questioning. He said he does odd jobs sometimes for Leo Brossi, but he denied knowing Denton Ferrelli. Also denied trying to run you down with his truck. He said you’re a crazy woman who shot at him when he went to his girlfriend’s apartment. He didn’t deny using Scoline to capture alligators, but he has a valid Florida Alligator Harvest Permit, and, like he said, most everybody who handles alligators has some drugged darts. We couldn’t hold him.”
Three pairs of eyes were watching me, Michael like a statue by the sink. Nobody asked if it was true that I’d shot at Gabe Marks, just as nobody had asked if I was the person who had caused Leo Brossi to be home with ice on his face last night. I was stuck with being the only one who knew for sure I’d done both those things.
I said, “I can’t prove it was Gabe Marks who tried to run me down in the parking lot. I can’t prove he put snakes in my apartment. I can’t prove he was the one driving Conrad’s car or that he shot drugged darts into Conrad and Stevie. But I know Denton hired Gabe to kill them, and I know he wants me dead. Denton is a respected man with important political connections. He has powerful mob connections. If Gabe doesn’t kill me, Denton will have somebody else do it.”
Nobody spoke. Nobody argued with me.
I said, “It’s hopeless, isn’t it?”
Guidry said, “Nothing’s ever hopeless, Dixie.”
That wasn’t true, and we all knew it. Some things are flat-out hopeless, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. The kitchen seemed very still and quiet. The clock on the wall made faint clicking noises as the second hand moved. Sunshine streamed through the bay window facing the shore, and dust motes shimmered in the golden light. In that peaceful moment, it seemed incongruous that death could lurk nearby. But death is always lurking. The question isn’t if death will ultimately win but how we will face
it when it does. I thought about how gracefully Mame had dealt with the hopelessness of her situation, how fearlessly she had gone to her last moment. Perhaps that’s why pets exist—to teach humans how to die.
I said, “What would it take to nail Denton Ferrelli for murdering Conrad and Stevie? Or for hiring Gabe Marks to do it?”
“A confession. A detailed account of how they did it. Details we could corroborate.”
“What if you caught one of them trying to kill somebody else?”
Guidry narrowed his gray eyes in a suspicious look. “Then we’d arrest him for attempted murder.”
“What if the somebody else was wired? What if the somebody else cleverly got a detailed account of how Conrad and Stevie were killed? And what if you rushed in and saved the somebody else before he actually killed her?”
Michael slapped the refrigerator door and glared at me.
Guidry said, “The somebody else would have to be pretty stupid to set herself up like that.”
I pushed my coffee mug away and rested my forearms on the butcher block. Everything suddenly seemed crystal clear to me. I just had to explain it so they understood it. Especially so Michael understood.
“If Gabe Marks isn’t locked up, and soon, he will kill me. Even if he is locked up, Denton will find somebody to kill me. Or he may do it himself. Denton is a psychopathic monster who enjoys hurting people. Gabe is a dumb thug who enjoys hurting people. Separately or together, they are determined to kill me, and they will. Even if I ran away, Denton has the contacts and the power to track me. He thinks I’m a danger to him, and he’s determined to shut me up.”
Michael turned away and stood motionless with his hands braced on the countertop, every hard line of his body saying he knew what I was saying was true and that he could not bear it.
I said, “Look, I’m not the shrinking violet you think I
am. I know how to handle a gun, I know how to handle myself in a fight. So why not use me? Why not let Denton get to me? You have a whole fucking SWAT team that could swarm him the minute it sounded like things were getting too hairy. It would work, Guidry. It may be the only way to keep me alive.”
Michael said, “No! Goddamn it, no!”
Paco said, “I don’t like it either, Michael, but she’s right. It may be the only way.”
Guidry said, “I never thought you were a shrinking violet.”
“Well, okay, how about it?”
He looked at Michael. “Michael would have to be okay with it.”
Michael said, “Then it’s never happening. Never.”
He lasered us all with a look of sheer despair, and I got up and put my arms around him. Michael has taken care of me since the first time our mother left us when he was four and I was two. He kept me safe then, and for the rest of his life he’s felt that was his sacred duty. I could feel his strong heart pounding under his shirt, and I knew he was feeling utter anguish at not being able to protect me now.
I said, “I have to do this by myself, hon. It’s the only way. And I won’t be alone. Guidry and his guys will be close by. It will make it a whole lot easier if you have faith in me, if you believe I can do it.”
“Shit, Dixie.”
“I know.”
He gave a gigantic sigh and squeezed me close. “Guidry, you son-of-a-bitch, if anything happens to her—”
Guidry got up and rapped his knuckles a couple of times on the butcher block, like a ritual to ward off bad luck.
“I’ll get the stuff you’ll need. I’ll be back later.”
He went out the door without closing it behind him. I watched him cross the deck to his car and back out. The world looked different now, because I had moved to a new place in it.
Good or bad, I had taken a step in a new direction, and there was no going back.