Silencing Salter

Book 7: A Luca Mystery

by Dan Petrosini

Genres: Action & Adventure; Police Procedurals; Noir; Crime & Mystery; Crime Fiction; murder; conspiracy

Synopsis

Chasing a killer can be a deadly job.

Detective Luca investigates the death of a high-profile businessman, and it doesn't surprise him the man has enemies. Powerful people make powerful enemies, after all. 

But Luca isn't prepared for the sheer number of people the victim pissed off - nor just how influential they are. 

The deeper he digs, the uglier the truth grows. Luca uncovers a dark, disturbing side to the murdered man, and discovers hints of a deviancy along with membership in a secret society.

Luca is treading on dangerous ground. Every clue he uncovers increases the size of the target on his back.

Bringing a murderer to justice is what Luca does. He just hopes this time, he can live long enough to do it.

                                                                                                                               
Silencing Salter is book 7 in the stand alone Luca Mystery Series. You'll love this riveting story packed with action, first person struggles and an unpredictable ending.

Start reading now.

Release date: May 1, 2019

Print pages: 242

Sample

Chapter 1

I was feeling unnerved and couldn’t put my finger on why. Our baby girl, Jessica, was a bundle of joy, and Mary Ann and I were enjoying our new roles as parents. The concerns I had about fatherhood cramping my relationship with my wife were unfounded. So far. Even the intermittent pain in my gut had gone away.

Life was good. I couldn’t imagine things being sweeter than they were. So why did it feel like I was standing on a wakeboard? Something seemed to lurk just below the surface. I wasn’t a stranger to the feeling, but it was usually a result of a pending problem, like the dissolving situation with my ex-wife, my ex-partner ending up dead, and dealing with my cancer.

We’d run out of diapers, and I had to make a run to Walmart before going to the office. A new website for infant supplies had great prices but terrible delivery service. Handing off an armful of diapers to Mary Ann, I hopped back in the Cherokee and headed to work.

Derrick called as I drove past Bayfront.

“What’s up?”

“You on the way in?”

“Yep, about to turn onto Forty-One. Why?”

“Call came in about a body.”

I knew it. “Where?”

“In the back of a place called Stone Heaven. It’s a granite warehouse on J and C Boulevard.”

“Text me the address, and I’ll head straight there. Make sure someone cordons off the property. I don’t want anyone within a hundred feet of the corpse.”

Turning onto Airport Pulling Road, I realized it was February 20th, and spring was a month away. Instead of things turning greener, they had taken a turn toward darkness.

***

Three squad cars were parked in front of Stone Heaven. I didn’t see Derrick’s car. The property wasn’t gated. The weight of the slabs on display would nix any threat of their being stolen.

A uniformed officer lifted up the crime scene tape. Scooting under, the pain in my abdomen resurfaced. Signing in, I was grateful I had an appointment with the doctor who’d removed my bladder.

Walking up the drive, I couldn’t detect any camera surveillance. There was an array of slabs the size of garage doors in different shades of white, some with dark gray veins and others pure.

The building was a two-storied industrial affair with the front softened to accommodate a small showroom. Peering through the glass revealed two desks fronted with chairs and displays that reminded me of a tile store. Other than that, it was bare bones.

Along the right side of the building was a narrow parking lot. Toward the back were scores of thin slabs standing inches from each other. It looked like a giant deck of cards spread out. A pair of officers stood guard about ten yards in. I had played softball with one of them when I first got down to Naples. He was a good guy but a world-class wiseass.

“Hey, Frank. How are you? Heard you’re all domesticated now, with a wife and baby.”

“That’s right. And how you been keeping, Dillon?”

“All is good. We can use a second baseman this year, if you’re not changing diapers.”

“Ha-ha. What do we have?”

“Delivery crew was loading the day’s slabs, and the guy working the forklift, Julio Barza, found the body.”

“Anybody touch anything?”

“No. The guy said he jumped off the forklift and ran into the warehouse to get the foreman.” He pointed. “The body is just past the black slab.”

There was a larger space in between the slabs, and the body was lying facedown on top of a couple of empty slab cradles. I noticed it right away.

It looked like a professional hit: hands bound, bullet in the back of the head, duct tape over the mouth. The victim was a white male, late forties to early fifties. Six foot, a hundred and eighty or so pounds. I crouched. He had good skin and was well groomed.

I put the back of my fist on the victim’s right hand. It was cool. I moved my fist to his midsection. There wasn’t much give. He was dead at least several hours. Maybe killed somewhere between 1 and 5 a.m.

The victim was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, dark blue slacks, and expensive loafers. I put on gloves and checked his rear pockets. Nothing. Did people with his kind of money not need to carry a wallet, or was this a robbery?

Taking the time to put a body in a place like this didn’t fit a random robbery. Whoever killed this guy likely took his identity to buy time and grab a little cash.

The forensics team would have a mobile fingerprint scanner. Maybe we’d get a quick hit on an ID. I circled the body. The blood pattern indicated he’d been dumped here. Just in case, I scanned for a shell, knowing if he were shot here, whoever did this wouldn’t leave one behind.

Who was this man? Why was he shot in the back of the head, like a mob slaying? I knew stereotypes were out, but the victim didn’t look like the organized-crime type.

Maybe it was my time in New Jersey, but no matter how slick someone dressed and was groomed, I could tell if they were gangsters, seeing right through their Brooks Brothers costumes.

They were the personification of the old adage: you can put lipstick on a pig, but it is still a pig. No matter how many manicures they sat for or silk suits they wore, nothing could soften their hearts.

I’d have to turn my badge in if the man lying here was a gangster. It didn’t fit. Who was this guy, and why was he executed? I walked to the rear of the property, which didn’t have a fence. It backed up to a building with four small businesses: a computer repair shop, a decorator, a music store, and an accounting office.

The property to the left was a body shop, and to the right was a plumbing supply house. This was a busy industrial area, and I hoped we would get an eyewitness or two. I walked out front and waited for the forensics crew.

 

 

Chapter 2

“Happy birthday, little peanut. I can’t believe you’re four months old already.”

I took Jessica from Mary Ann, kissing her on both cheeks. She was beautiful. A real-life angel with blond hair and chubby cheeks. She looked like a lighter-colored version of my wife. Jessie started to cry. I handed her back to Mary Ann, and she settled down immediately.

I extended a finger hoping Jessie would grab it. “What do you have, some magic or something?”

“She’s just tired. I was about to put her in for a nap, but I heard the garage door.”

I leaned in and inhaled. Babies had a smell of their own and it was intoxicating. “You have a good nap, Daddy. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“You’ve got to cut out the daddy stuff. She’ll get confused over her name.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Let me get her settled in while you change.”

Heading into the bedroom, I noticed the time. It was only 5:30 p.m. I didn’t know if it was Jessie or the need for an ID on the body before we could hunt down the killer, but I was guilt free leaving work at five.

The corpse was the first homicide since Jessica was born. There were many unknowns in the new case, and chief among them was whether I could maintain a proper family/work balance.

Mary Ann tiptoed into the room, her shoulders scrunched toward her ears. Why did people do that? Did they really think they were lighter on their feet by holding their shoulders up?

“She fell asleep as soon as I put her down.”

“Is she coming down with something?”

“No. She didn’t sleep that long this afternoon. You should have seen her. She was babbling every time I put the mobile on.”

“I bet she’s gonna talk early. Last night she was trying to say daddy when you were showering.”

“Keep dreaming, Frank.”

“No, I swear. It sounded like she was trying to say dada.”

“Maybe because you keep calling her daddy.”

“Very funny. Should I put the grill on?”

“I took some shrimp out of the freezer. I’ll heat up the soup from yesterday.”

It was the third time in a week we were having shrimp. I wanted to run to Burger King and pick up a Whopper and fries, but Mary Ann was trying to get back into shape, and I had to support her. I went out to the lanai knowing I’d get my burger for lunch tomorrow.

When I came back in, Mary Ann had the TV on but it was muted. I pointed to a picture to the left of the newscaster.

“Who’s that man?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“He looks like the guy we found dead on J and C Boulevard this morning.”

“Homicide?”

“No doubt. Looked like a professional hit.” I grabbed the remote, raising the volume.

“Frank!”

The picture of the man disappeared, replaced by a weather map. I began cycling through channels, hoping to see what may have been our victim’s face. Mary Ann took the remote and shut the TV.

“You want to eat with Jessie in your lap? Because I’m not gonna hold her.”

“Okay, okay.”

***

Jessie had gotten up only twice during the night. My deal with Mary Ann was she would get up first, and then we’d rotate. It was crazy, but I never minded getting up for her. It was like we had our own special time together in the middle of the night. The kid was amazing.

The coffee Derrick had brought me was lukewarm. I got up to take it to the cafeteria when my desk phone rang.

“Detective Luca, homicide.”

“Frank, it’s Dr. Esposito.”

It was the pathologist. “How you doing, Doc?”

“I’m about to begin the postmortem examination. I’m pretty sure I know who the victim is.”

“You do?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Elby Salter.”

“How do you spell that?”

I jotted down the name, asking, “What makes you think it’s him?”

“My brother-in-law sponsored a table at the Ritz for the Cure Cancer Gala a couple of months ago. Maggie and I went, and Elby Salter was either the chair or co-chair of the event.”

I plugged Elby Salter into the search bar and went to the image results. A series of photos of a man in tuxedos appeared. He didn’t resemble the man I saw on TV last night.

“How sure are you?”

“Just about positive. I saw him one other time, years ago. The Salters are an old Florida family, very wealthy, and Elby was always doing one charity thing or another. I hope it’s not him, but . . .”

“All right, then. We’ll reach out to the family. See if he’s reported missing. I’ll let you know if we come up with anything. Meanwhile, conduct the autopsy, and let me know what you find. It’d be nice if you’d come up with something to help make it a quick solve.”

Handing the name to Derrick, I said, “Get ahold of the family. Find out if Elby Salter is missing. Esposito thinks it could be the corpse. I’m going to heat up my coffee.”

Walking down the hallway, I had the feeling it was him. If so, we knew who the victim was. Now we needed to find out why he was shot and who did it.

 

 

Chapter 3

Derrick met me in the hallway. “Looks like Elby Salter is missing. His wife said she hasn’t seen him in two days.”

“She file a missing person?”

He shook his head. “She said she knew you couldn’t file one until someone was missing four days.”

“What? That never stopped anyone.”

“She said she assumed he was with his mistress.”

“For two nights? That’s one hell of a marriage.”

“They’re wealthy. Maybe she’s hanging around for the money.”

“Or she has a boyfriend of her own.”

“They call that an open marriage.”

“I call it crazy. Did you tell her we needed her to look at the body and see if it’s him?”

“Yeah, said she would swing by the medical examiner’s in an hour or so.”

“Don’t tell me she said, ‘swing by’?”

“That’s how she put it.”

“Call Esposito; tell him she’s coming in. I don’t want him slicing and dicing this guy up before the wife gets there.”

“I’m on it.”

“What’s the wife’s name?”

“Annabelle.”

“Annabelle. Pretty name. It was one of the names Mary Ann liked. Can’t imagine Jessie as an Annabelle now.”

“You made the right choice. I like Jessica better.”

“I’m gonna head down to the morgue, talk it over with Esposito while I wait for her to show up. He should have a time of death for us.”

***

I pulled on the sweater I kept in the trunk and buttoned my blazer before entering the low-slung building housing Collier’s medical examiner. It still felt cold. Dr. Esposito was in his office. Jamming my hands into my pockets, I headed down a windowless corridor to the pathologist’s office.

A coffee mug, pronouncing, Medical Examiners Do It with a Scalpel, sat on the corner of the doctor’s desk. Esposito was wearing headphones, tapping away on a keyboard. He raised his head, sticking a finger up. He typed a couple of words more before removing the headphones.

“How are you, Frank?”

“All is good.”

“How’s the new baby?”

I smiled. “Pretty amazing, if I say so myself.”

“It’s a gift from God.”

I pulled my phone out. “Here she is.”

“You have a cute one there, Frank. I see a lot of you in her, some of your resemblance to George Clooney. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

While it lasts? “We are.”

“Derrick said Elby Salter hadn’t been seen, and his wife is coming down. Looks like you were right.”

“It’s a damn shame. He’s only fifty-three.”

“Doc, you have a time of death for me?”

“Somewhere between one and two a.m., the morning of February twentieth.”

“Okay. It’s obvious, but I have to ask: cause of death?”

“Gunshot wound in the rear of the head. I’d guess it was a .357 or maybe a .44, but I’m not going to remove it until the next of kin confirms the identity.”

“I know you didn’t start, but is there anything you can tell me?”

“An examination exteriorly didn’t indicate anything extraordinary. An abdominal scar that appears to have originated from a hernia procedure and one on the knee that was probably the result of a surgical repair of his ACL.”

“No bruises. To the head or body?”

“None.”

The victim had been surprised by his attackers or knew them. He didn’t resist or need to be silenced. Someone could have approached from behind, stuck the barrel of the gun in his back, and walked him into a car or van, where he was bound.

“I’d appreciate if you’d do a full blood workup. If it’s Elby Salter, he had money, and there’s no telling what substance he might have been taking.”

“It’s not likely he was taking an illegal substance.”

“What makes you say that?”

“First, he appears to be in excellent health, and second, they’re not the type to run around in public. They’re a private, low-key family.”

I didn’t want to insult the doctor by challenging his ignorance. “Let’s see what the blood panels tell us, if anything.”

Esposito’s phone rang. Mrs. Annabelle Salter was here. I hadn’t spoken to her and knew nothing about this woman, but that hadn’t stopped me from forming a mental image of her.

***

There were two women in the lobby. The first thought to pop in my head was The Stepford Wives. I’d never seen the movie or even knew what it was about. I approached the women hoping I’d remember to check into the movie. The women had similar faces and builds. They appeared related and were dressed in an understated style, both in dark pants, one with a short jacket over a white blouse, the other wearing a long-sleeved, cream-colored blouse. They had the same honey-colored hair and were wearing low, leather pumps.

“Hello, ladies. I’m Detective Frank Luca.”

The woman wearing the jacket stepped forward, extending her hand. “Annabelle Salter. It is a pleasure to meet you. This is my sister, Savannah.”

I noticed a tremble in her hand before shaking it. “I wish it were under different circumstances, ma’am.”

Annabelle gave a short nod. “Shall we?”

They had no idea where they were going, but I heard myself say, “After you.” I stepped aside, then said, “It’s the third door on the right.”

Savannah grabbed her sister’s hand as they stopped in front of a door marked Private. Circling in front of them, I asked, “Ready?”

Annabelle bit her lower lip and nodded. I swung the door open to a small room. A translucent window dominated the left wall. A pair of couches lined the opposite wall.

Closing the door behind them, I stepped to the side of the window. I put my hand on a wall switch. “Ready?”

Annabelle took a deep breath. “Okay.”

I threw the switch, and the window cleared. A sheet covered the body on the gurney. Dr. Esposito stood by the corpse’s shoulders, looking me in the eye. I nodded, and he pulled the sheet back, revealing the head.

A gasp, then, “Oh my God, Elby.” Annabelle began crying, and her sister led her away from the window as Esposito covered Elby Salter’s face.

“Would you like to sit?”

She shook her head.

“Is that your husband, Elby Salter?”

Lips quivering. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you take your sister home, and we’ll talk later if she’s up to it?”

***

Derrick said, “How’d it go?”

“Let’s just say it’s the shittiest part of the job, but we know it’s Elby Salter for sure.”

“Look, a call came in. Some guy walking his dog on J & C that night thinks he saw something.”

“Now we’re talking. What'd he say?”

“His dog was taking a dump right by Stone Heaven, and he saw a white Explorer pull into the driveway.”

“Did he see anyone?”

“Yeah. I’m bringing him in to work with a sketch artist.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

 

 

Chapter 4

I hung up my jacket, and loosening my tie, said, “Derrick, we need to know as much as possible about Elby Salter. I want to know everything he did the last forty-eight hours before he was killed. Who he was with, where he was. Check his credit cards, phone records, the whole works.”

“I’m on it. After you called, I did an internet search. The Salter family has Florida roots going back to when Florida became a state. I don’t know if it’s bullshit or not, but did you know Florida had its own currency before it became a state?”

“No idea. What else did you learn?”

“There’s not much out there. He’s the son of Delilah and Prescott Salter. I found an obit for the mother but nothing on the old man. They had another son, Chadwick, and he and Elby control a company called Southern Motor Works. They own a bunch of car dealerships all over the state. There was mention of a couple of real estate developments he was a part of, something about him trying to get the Red Sox to move to Naples, and a bunch of charity stuff.”

“Where do they work out of?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything about a headquarters or anything.”

I went to the whiteboard, picked up an orange marker, and wrote Elby, and circled it. I drew a line to the left and wrote Annabelle/wife. To the right, Chadwick/brother. Underneath it, business.

“Get pictures of the three of them up here. That’s where we’re gonna start. First up is the wife. You get going with credit cards and phone records. I’m going to get some background on Annabelle before going to see her. By the way, you said she seemed cavalier about his disappearance when you called her, right?”

“Yeah. I was kind of shocked.”

“She played it pretty near perfect today.”

“What do you mean? You think she was faking it?”

“I don’t know what I mean, just that she was reserved, appropriate.”

“Being in a morgue can do that to you.”

“Yep. Get to work.”

I pulled up the marriage license for Annabelle and Elby Salter. They were married twenty-three years ago, when Elby was thirty and his new bride, twenty-five. Annabelle’s maiden name was Baker. I noted the information on the application, including her home at the time.

The address listed was deeded to Thomas and Mavis Baker. They had to be her parents. I went to Google Earth. What came up was an immense property with several buildings. Money had married money.

***

The Salter’s home was on high-end Gordon Drive. I called it millionaire’s row. Rumor had it that more Fortune 500 CEOs lived in the Naples area than in any other place in the country. Given New York, Greenwich, San Francisco, and other wealthy enclaves, I wasn’t sure, but if true, it was likely they’d be living on Gordon Drive.

Passing one behemoth home after another, I slowed as the addresses got closer to my destination. Expecting a gaudy entrance, I double-checked the address of the ungated driveway that was my target.

Fifty yards up the gravel driveway, it ended in a T. I looked straight ahead, squinting as the Gulf of Mexico reflected the sun. The driveway to the left led to a large Georgian Colonial. I noticed a weathered, circular plaque with an arrow pointing left. It read Elby and Annabelle. I searched for a sign as to what the right driveway led to but couldn’t find anything. There was a house in that direction, but it was obscured by a stand of fantail palm trees.

I headed toward the yellow mansion, wondering how nice it would be to sit on one of those porches, wine glass in hand, and stare at the Gulf. The two-storied home had porches on both levels encircling the building, with round columns supporting the expansive overhang. My first thought was the movie Gone with the Wind. I couldn’t tell you why, because I hadn’t seen that movie either.

Though the landscaping was minimal, there was a lot to take in. Fronting the home was a fountain in the shape of a dolphin surrounded by a bed of purple flowers. Two dormers on the slope of the home’s roof looked like a pair of frog’s eyes. A tennis court was off to the right and a pool area to the left.

Even though the home and setting were extraordinary, there was a normalcy about the property. You couldn’t say it wasn’t maintained, it was, but not to the polished level of the beachfront homes along Gordon Drive.

As I realized the home was understated, like the woman I met today, the front door swung out. The dead man’s sister-in-law, Savannah, waved.

“How is your sister feeling?”

“She’s doing well. I guess . . .”

“I know it may seem inconsiderate, but it’s best that I speak with her as soon as possible.”

“Annabelle is aware the police need to speak to her. She’s ’round back, on the veranda.”

Veranda? It was a porch. A damn nice porch, but a porch. I was disappointed that she walked me around the porch rather than through the house. You never know what you can learn by seeing the inside of a victim’s home. But, the truth was, the real reason I was upset was not getting a chance to see what the place looked like.

We passed several comfortable groups of seating on our way to the back. Spinning overhead fans were hung every twenty feet. The house was almost as deep as it was wide. The view of the Gulf expanded with every step. A few steps from the rear, I saw Annabelle. She was wearing a flowery dress that fit the surroundings but was off, given the circumstances.

She rose to greet me. Her eyes were red.

“Welcome to our home, Detective.”

“I appreciate your willingness to talk so soon after the . . .”

“May I offer you a glass of lemonade?”

“That sounds nice.”

Savannah disappeared into the house, and Annabelle said, “Please. Take a seat.”

Her teeth were white but not veneers. She was wearing pearl earrings but no other jewelry except a simple wedding band. I couldn’t recall if she had it on earlier today. There was something about this woman. I could feel her pull.

“I know this is difficult for you, but finding the person who did this is easier the sooner we start.”

“Strike while the iron’s hot, I guess.”

 Savannah appeared out of nowhere with a glass of lemonade on a tray.

“Thank you.” I took the ice-cold glass. Taking a sip, I saw Savannah slip back into the house. She wanted no part of this. Or was it respect for her sister’s privacy?

I put the glass down. “Tell me about your husband, Elby.”

“Well, there’s not much to say. We met at my cousin Magnolia’s wedding and were married a year later.”

“Any children?”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

I wanted to tell her she didn’t know what she was missing, but it was early in the game for me. “What did your husband do for a living?”

“The Salter family has various business interests.”

“I know he is involved in automotive dealerships. What else?”

“Real estate, farming, manufacturing, just about anything you could imagine.”

Did that signal something illegitimate? I reached for my glass. It was wet with condensation. If you looked up the word refreshing, there might be a picture of my lemonade.

“Was he actively running any particular business?”

“I wouldn’t characterize it as running a business, more akin to strategic oversight. Elby was focused on long-range planning. He’d never miss his monthly strategy meetings, no matter what was going on.”

“What interests or hobbies did your husband engage in?”

“Besides chairing several charities, Elby had an addiction to baseball, in particular the Boston Red Sox.”

“Was he from Boston?”

“Heavens, no. He was born and raised right here. On this very property.”

“Oh. So, why the Boston Red Sox?”

“I’m not sure. It could be the family had a home on Martha’s Vineyard, but it probably had to do with the origins of the American Revolution.”

I wanted to ask whether he was one of those guys who dressed up and reenacted scenes from the fight for independence but didn’t.

“Tell me about any possible enemies Elby might have had.”

“Enemies? We’re speaking of Elby. Everybody loved Elby.”

“No problems with business partners?”

“Elby never discussed business with me. It was a Salter family rule. Business was a family subject. If you weren’t born a Salter, you weren’t family, even when you married into the family.”

It sounded strange, but I could see the wealthy being sensitive about outsiders.

“When my partner called you this morning, I believe you made a reference about your husband possibly being with another woman.”

“The Salter men have a history of playing the field, regardless of their marital status.”

“Was there one particular woman he spent time with recently?”

“You’d have to ask his brother about that.”

“Chadwick?”

“Yes.”

If she were bothered enough to kill her husband over his philandering, it didn’t show. It must have been going on for years. That left money as possible motivation for Annabelle to have her husband killed. It didn’t seem likely, as her parents seemed to be well off, but I couldn’t rule it out.

Time and time again, two constants in a homicide were that the killer was usually close to the victim and that the motivation was greed. I wanted to ask her about a prenuptial but couldn’t imagine a family like the Salters not insisting on one. It was a question the brother would be able to answer.

“Do you know your husband’s whereabouts the day he was murdered?”

Her lip quivered. “It felt like a normal day. We had breakfast out here and he left.”

“For work?”

“I assumed so.”

“How was he dressed?”

“Dress shirt and slacks but no tie.”

“Did he usually wear a tie?”

“No, he detested wearing a tie.”

“When did you expect him home?”

“He said he had a dinner meeting in Fort Myers.”

“Was that unusual?”

“No. But frankly, it could have been cover for a rendezvous with a lady friend.”

“We may need your assistance in obtaining access to his phone records. They could provide critical information. Would you be willing to help if we need it?”

“Yes. Of course.”

I asked a few more incidental questions, finished my lemonade and took another look at the Gulf before leaving. After learning more about Elby Salter, I’d be back with more questions for Annabelle.

 

 

Chapter 5

Jessica was sound asleep in her bassinet. Mary Ann took one more look at her and climbed into bed. On my way out of the bathroom, I adjusted the thermostat.

“Did you lower the air?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t want it too cold for her.”

“I set it at seventy-four.”

“Good. She should be okay.”

I hopped in bed, fishing the remote off the nightstand. “It’s hot. I put the fan on low.”

“Okay.” Mary Ann rolled on her side and kissed my cheek. “Love you. Good night.”

“You know we should get a will made up.”

“A will?”

“Yeah, we have Jessie now . . .”

“Are you worried because you had cancer?”

Even though I was, I said, “It’s not just that. Something could happen to both of us, then what? Who would take care of Jessica? Who’d she live with?”

Mary Ann propped herself on an elbow. “Is everything all right with you, Frank?”

I hoped so but was filled with doubt. “Calm down. I’m talking about Jessica. We have a responsibility to provide for her. Frankly, we’ve been irresponsible. Shit happens out of nowhere, and I don’t want just anybody as her guardian.”

“You’re right. This needs a lot of thought. God forbid it comes down to that. I don’t know who I’d want her to live with. I can’t even think like that.”

“We have to.”

“Who were you thinking of?”

“I don’t know. The only two people I can think of right now are Derrick and the Blazers.”

“Derrick’s not even married. Jeanie and Paul have Brian, and they are wonderful parents.”

“We don’t really know them, Mary Ann. I know Derrick; he’s my partner.”

She smiled. “You really have let the whole Garrison thing go, haven’t you?”

“The kid made a mistake. He’s a good person, ethically and morally. I think if anything happened to us, he’d step up and take care of Jessie. I really do.”

“He’s not married yet, and he has no experience bringing a child up.”

“What? We didn’t have any experience, no new parent does.”

“I know that. It’s not that, it’s . . .”

“I get it. It’s because he’s a man.”

She averted her eyes. “No. No, that’s not true.”

It was true. “It’s okay, Mary Ann. I get it. A mother is special. You couldn’t imagine a man doing what you do. You’re right, but Lynn will make a good mother, and Jessie really seems to like her.”

“I like her, but . . .”

“This is as important as it gets. Let’s think about it and talk it over this week. Okay?”

“It’s a scary thing to think about, but thanks for bringing it up.”

I swung my legs off the bed.a “Sleep good.”

“Where you going?”

I tiptoed over to the bassinet and stared at my little girl before climbing back in bed.

***

Derrick set a coffee on my desk. “Morning, Frank.”

“Morning.”

“Something the matter?”

I’d been staring at him, wondering what kind of parent he’d be. “No, no. Just thinking about Elby Salter.”

“I have the phone records.”

“Good.” I raised the coffee to my mouth and paused. Maybe drinking too much coffee was what was bothering my stomach. I set the cup down.

“What’s the matter? I put just a touch of milk in it, like you like it.”

“My stomach has been bothering me.”

“I saw you rubbing it yesterday.”

“It’s nothing, just nerves or something.”

“You should get it checked out, Frank. You can’t play around with these things, especially after what you went through.”

Derrick really cared about me. It was another reason I thought he’d take care of Jessie if needed.

“I know. I made an appointment with the doctor.”

“Good.”

I needed a boost, and one more coffee couldn’t hurt, could it? I took a sip of coffee and said, “Coffee is perfect, as usual. What do we have with the Salter numbers?”

“Two outgoing calls to Chadwick Salter, two to a Cindy Baylor, one to Prescott Salter, that’s his father, right?

“Yes. What about inbound calls?”

“Incoming, there was a call from his wife, one from Chadwick, and four calls from Cindy Baylor. The day before there were also three calls from a Marie Redoux and a call from a Ronald Weaver. That’s the same name as the guy who used to play first base for Boston.”

“It could be him. His wife said Elby was a big baseball fan and loved the Red Sox.”

“A lot of players, especially for Boston, live down here since they train in Fort Myers.”

“Yep. The Sox and Minnesota are in Fort Myers, the Orioles in Sarasota, and the Yanks in Tampa.”

“The Red Sox are building a new stadium in Collier. One of the things that came up when I searched the internet was something connecting Salter to the move.”

“You said that. It made me remember seeing something on the tube about a deal for the land. It’ll probably take two to three years to build it though.”

“We should go to a game before spring training ends.”

“Sounds like fun, maybe when they’re playing the Yanks.”

“That would be something, especially since Peters jumped ship going to the Yanks.”

“What they give him, like twenty million a year?”

“Yep. Twenty-two million. It’s getting nuts. I guess that’s why the Red Sox let him go. I’ll check later to see who’s playing where.”

“Okay. We have to start interviewing. I’d like to start with the brother, and I’m betting that Cindy Baylor was Elby’s girlfriend.”

“Probably. Do you think his wife was playing around too?”

“Normally, I’d say a woman like her wouldn’t. But you never know. She may have done something out of revenge.”

“And the only good revenge is one that’s gone too far.”

“Hey, that’s my saying.”

“And a good one. It’s so true.”

“You got to give me credit if you’re gonna use my Luca-isms.”

“Pure wisdom. I’m learning at the feet of a genuine master.”

I tossed a ball of paper at him. “Let’s get to work.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come with me to see Cindy Baylor. Let’s see if she’s the girlfriend and what she has to say.”

“I thought you wanted to start with the brother?”

“Changed it up. We may get something from her that will let us know if the brother is lying or covering something up.”

The dull pain in my belly began to sharpen. “I’m gonna take a leak. Track her down while I’m gone.”