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  Payback’s a Beach

  by

  Falafel Jones

  Copyright © 2013 Falafel Jones

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition November 2013

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Excerpt from The Kewpie Killer: Chapter One

  Excerpt from The Kewpie Killer: Chapter Two

  CHAPTER ONE

  I groaned, opened my shorts, and reached down to press the button. When I looked up, TV reporter, Lisa Bell, stared me in the face. She said the Coast Guard towed an abandoned boat, but I was too stuffed from dinner to pay attention. All I could think about was coffee. While I reclined on the couch waiting for my espresso, I heard Mariel in the kitchen answer the phone. Her voice grew louder as she approached but instead of coffee, she handed me the cordless and left the room.

  On the TV, Lisa said the boat owner’s dead body had washed up on the beach. On the phone, Ed McCarthy, a local lawyer, told me the police wanted to arrest his daughter Brenda.

  “Max, you’ve got to help me out.”

  “With what?”

  “The police think Brenda killed that guy who washed up on the beach.”

  “The guy from that abandoned boat?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “I need someone to prove she didn’t do it.”

  When I first moved to New Smyrna Beach, I did a forensic examination on a computer to help Ed settle a client’s estate. The exam led to the capture of the client’s killer but I hadn’t seen Ed for a while.

  “Geez, Ed. You know I can’t work the case like that. I’ve got to follow the evidence.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. What I mean is I know she didn’t do it and I want you to find out who did. That’s the only way we can help her.”

  “But, what if the investigation proves her gu… I mean doesn’t clear her.”

  Ed’s confidence didn’t surprise me. “It will. I’m sure of it. Don’t make me beg. Will you do it or not?” He exhaled loudly into the phone.

  “Sure, sure. I’ll do it. Where’s Brenda? I’ll need to talk with her first.”

  “She’s here at the house, with me and her mother. They haven’t charged her yet thanks to her mom.”

  Brenda’s mom was also an attorney. “Sheila? She’s in town?”

  “Yeah, she’s been back and forth between here and New York but she’s here now.”

  I suspected Ed really meant his relation with his ex-wife Sheila was on again, off again and now on again. “OK, give me some time to get myself together and I’ll be right over.”

  I put down the phone and looked up to see Mariel standing over me, two steaming cups of dark Latin coffee in her hands.

  “What?” I asked.

  She bent and placed a cup on the coffee table without taking her eyes off me. Then she stood straight, sipped from her cup, and continued to stare.

  “OK,” I said, “Ed needs some help. I told him I’d be right over.”

  “You did?”

  Unable to hold her stare, I leaned over my cup, took a sip, and burnt my tongue. “Ow.”

  Mariel said, “It’s hot.”

  I looked up at her. “I noticed.”

  “So, what kind of help does he need?”

  I recounted my phone conversation.

  “What can you do?”

  “Me? I’m a licensed private investigator. Remember?” I reached into my pocket for my PI license.

  “Keep it in your pants. I’ve already seen it.”

  “Brenda’s in a jam. She needs help and Ed thinks I’m the guy. I can’t say no.”

  “No, you can’t, but this go round, I don’t want to be in the dark again. You’ll tell me what’s going on. I almost lost you the last time you helped Ed. I’m not going to let that happen again. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  An avid boater, Ed owned a huge house on the river in New Smyrna Beach. Since the island is so narrow, he could also see the ocean from his upper deck. My place is a more modest abode down the block from the beach about three miles south of his. When I pulled into Ed’s driveway, he stood waiting for me with a cigarette in his hand. As I approached, he tossed it to the ground, stepped on it, and said, “I don’t smoke in the house. C’mon.”

  I followed him inside to the kitchen where Brenda and her mother sat across from each other drinking from coffee cups. Sheila had her head down writing notes on a yellow legal pad. She looked up when Brenda said, “Max, I’m so glad you came.”

  I bent down into Brenda’s outstretched arms and hugged her. “How you holding up?”

  Brenda raised an eyebrow and her long ponytail swayed as she rocked her head side to side. Ed pulled out a chair for me and sat down across the table. Sheila pointed her pen at me and asked Ed, “You called him? You don’t know anybody else?”

  I said, “Hi, Sheila.”

  She pursed her lips as if she tasted something bitter.

  Ed clapped his hands together, loudly, “OK, now. We’re all here. Let’s get started.”

  I said, “Umm, Ed, Sheila, could I have some time alone with Brenda. I’d like to learn what she knows.”

  Sheila bolted upright. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing she can’t say. I’m not only her mother. I’m her attorney as well.”

  “You’re co-counsel,” Ed said.

  “In your dreams.” Sheila replied.

  Brenda stood with her cup in her right hand. “Sure, Max. Let’s go out on the dock.”

  I followed her through the French doors and past the infinity pool to the dock behind the house. Brenda climbed onto the deck of Ed’s 36-foot sailboat and motioned me aboard. We sat on benches in the cockpit and she said, “Please, just let me talk, then you can ask your questions.”

  I nodded.

  She took a long sip from her cup. When she put it down, I could see the contents were too clear to be coffee. Brenda paused, took a deep breath, and said, “I went on a date with a guy I met at the yacht club.” She pointed at the boat cabin with her chin. “The Shimmering Sea needed fuel and a pump out. Dad was busy. I was here, so I took her over myself. This nice looking guy caught my lines for me when I tied up at the dock and we started chatting. He said he was thinking of trading his powerboat for a sailing ship like Dad’s. He wanted to cruise to South America without worrying about fuel or engine problems. He seemed nice. We talked some more and ended up eating lunch together at the club restaurant. We sat out on the deck, at
e, and watched the dolphins. He made me laugh and I had a good time.”

  Brenda took a long pull from her cup and leaned back. “We made dinner plans. I sailed back here and later, he picked me up at the dock behind my condo.” She stared off at the river and didn’t say anything. I was about to prompt her when she said, “We had dinner at the Hidden Harbor restaurant in Ponce Inlet and around 9:00, boarded his boat to leave. The next thing I remember is waking up at home in bed with police pounding on the door. I got up and saw my clothes covered in dried blood.”

  She turned and looked at me. She seemed done talking. I waited a moment to be sure then I said, “So, your Mom met you at the precinct?”

  “No, she met me at the hospital.”

  “Did they do any tests?”

  “Yes.” Brenda looked away. “They took my clothes and did a… rape kit.” She swallowed. “It came back negative.”

  “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Brenda pressed her lips together and nodded while she gazed into the distance.

  “Did they do any blood or urine tests?”

  “You mean for roofies and drugs?”

  “Yes.”

  Brenda stared down into her drink. “Mom wouldn’t let them. She said that as long as they couldn’t prove I wasn’t drugged, a jury would have reasonable doubt. I…”

  “Were you drugged?”

  She looked back up directly at me. “I think so.”

  “So, a test could also prove you innocent.”

  Brenda brought her hand to her mouth and started sobbing.

  “I’m sorry, Brenda.” I stood and hugged her while she cried. When she seemed to calm down a bit, I left her on the dock and went back to the house.

  When I walked in the door, Ed and Sheila looked up at me from the kitchen table. Ed said, “Well?”

  I glared at Sheila. “Did you refuse a blood test?”

  She put her cup down hard and leaned towards me. “What if I did?”

  Ed’s mouth hung open.

  I said, “You may have missed a chance to prove your daughter innocent.”

  Sheila sat back. “…or a chance to prove her guilty. None of us knows what happened, not even Brenda. What if she did push him over the side? Then what? She could have done it without even knowing.”

  “No.” Ed said. “No, not Brenda. You could have Sheila, but not Brenda.” He got up and walked out the door to the deck. Sheila and I stared at each in silence for a bit and then I left her alone in the kitchen and opened the door to the dock. Ed stood in front of Brenda engulfing her in his arms so that I almost couldn’t see her. I hesitated to approach but I guess he heard me.

  “It’s OK, Max.”

  I closed the door but didn’t want to intrude so I kept my distance and said, “I’ll need to see the murder… um, the boat.”

  Ed said, “I know but the police have it secured. They won’t let anyone on board until they’re finished with it.”

  “I still need to see it. The sooner the better.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Ed turned to face me, “and I’ve got an idea how you can. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I woke with a start when the doorbell rang and I wondered who was there. Then I remembered my appointment, grabbed my shorts, and ran for the door. When I opened it, Ed stared at me.

  “I woke you, didn’t I?” He tilted his head and squinted at my eyes. “No contacts. Where are your glasses?”

  “Cataract surgery. Now, I’m 20/20 and 20/25 but you still seem kind of fuzzy around the edges.”

  “I am. I had a rough night.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Get dressed. I’ll wait out here and have a smoke.”

  When I got back to the bedroom, Mariel stirred. “Who was it?”

  “Ed. We’re going try to see the murder scene.”

  “Wait. I’ll come with you.”

  “I don’t think Ed’s up to the company.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  By the time I showered, dressed, and made it out the door, Ed accumulated a nice pile of cigarette butts in my driveway. I looked down at them and then at Ed. He looked at me, then down at the butts. Then he looked back at me.

  “Um, sorry, Max.” He bent to scoop them up.

  “Don’t,” I said, “we have more important things to do now.”

  Ed nodded and we got into his Mercedes. He lifted a brown bag from the floor and removed a coffee cup. I watched with envy as he took a sip.

  He looked at me. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

  “No, I just got up, showered, and dressed.”

  Ed put his hand into the bag and pulled out a second cup, which he handed to me. Then he reached in again and removed something wrapped in paper. He gave me that too and said, “I figured as much. Coffee black and a muffin with egg and cheese.”

  “Thanks, I really needed this.”

  “Yeah, I know. Your mind wanders when you’re hungry and I really need you to focus.”

  I was too happy about the food to be offended.

  Ed drove north on Dixie Freeway until we arrived at the courthouse in Daytona Beach. We passed through the metal detector and Ed led me upstairs to an office marked “Judge Barnes.” Ed opened the door and a young man at a desk looked up and furrowed his brow.

  “Mr. McCarthy?” The man reached for his desk calendar. “I didn’t see you on the judge’s appointment schedule.”

  “Sorry, Raymond. Something came up.” Ed indicated the closed door behind Raymond. “Is he alone?”

  “Yes, but —”

  Ed interrupted Raymond by knocking once on the closed door and then opening it. Raymond rose to stop him but it was too late. I saw a man dressed in a black robe opening a door behind a desk. The man turned to face Ed, shut the door and said, “Eddie, me boyo.” Ed entered the judge’s chambers and motioned me to follow. Raymond, realizing there was nothing he could do now, closed the door behind us.

  Ed and the judge shook hands and Ed introduced me as part of his “investigative team.” Judge Barnes waved Ed and me to chairs facing his desk, looked at his watch and said. “I’ve got three minutes and then I have to be on the bench. What brings you here on a day you could be out playing golf?”

  Ed reached into his blazer and removed a folded piece of paper which he held in the air. “Judge, I have a case in which I need access to a crime scene.”

  “Have the police finished with it yet?”

  “Who’s to say? They’ve been known to return to released crime scenes all of the time. In any event, I promise there will be a police escort monitoring our presence.”

  “Our?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fried and me.”

  Barnes reached for the paper in Ed’s hand. “I’ve got court in two minutes. I don’t have time to read this now. Can it wait?”

  “Some of the evidence may be fragile, Judge.”

  “Do I have to read this whole thing?”

  “That’s up to you, your Honor, but, there’s no more in here than I’ve told you.”

  Barnes picked up a pen, unfolded the paper, and turned directly to the last page. He hesitated a moment and said, “I don’t know…” He looked at his watch and then looked up at Ed. Ed looked back at him without any expression. The judge signed the paper and handed it back.

  Ed said, “Thank you, Judge.”

  Barnes said, “Next Wednesday, I’m going to win. You can’t play that well every week.”

  Ed said, “I get more practice than you do.”

  Barnes smiled and exited through the door behind his desk.

  We left the building and I asked Ed, “So, you’ve got the court order, but you told the judge the police will monitor our visit. How are you going to get them to cooperate?”

  Ed sat on a bench outside the courthouse. “I’ve got to make a call.”

  I sat beside him and waited. He lit a cigarette and then dialed his cell phone. “Detecti
ve Torres, please.”

  I waved away smoke as it drifted in my direction. “Detective, this is attorney Edward McCarthy…”

  “Yes…”

  “I’d like you to meet me at the Coast Guard station where they’re holding the Amante…”

  Waving the smoke away didn’t help so I got up and sat on Ed’s other side.

  “I’ve got a court order to examine the scene…”

  “I understand that you’re not done with it yet…”

  “Yes, well, I know you remember the drug case in Jacksonville…”

  “Yes, it’s like that…”

  “Thank you.”

  Ed closed his phone. “C’mon, Max. Let’s go.”

  Ten minutes later, we pulled into the Coast Guard station on the northern tip of the island, just past the entrance to Smyrna Dunes Park.

  Ed held a piece of paper out his window. The guard at the gate read it, returned it and waved us through. We drove without speaking and I listened to the crackling sound of tires on gravel until Ed parked near a dock obstructed by yellow crime scene tape. A 40-foot powerboat named Amante floated next to the dock. As Ed rolled up the car windows, a man emerged from the cabin, put his hands on his hips, and watched us as we exited the car. When the boat swayed slightly due to an incoming wave, the man’s hands shot out to grab the railings. His usual dark complexion looked a little green but I could see he was Detective Leon Torres from the New Smyrna Beach Police Department.

  We walked up the stairs to the boat and I stuck out my hand. Torres left his on the railings and said, “Mr. McCarthy, Mr. Fried.”

  I said, “It’s been a long time.”

  Torres said, “Not long enough. I got your call and I’m here. What the hell is going on?”

  Ed handed him the paper he showed the gate guard. Torres held it with apparent distaste. “What’s this?”

  Ed drew himself up to his full height and looked down at Torres. “It’s the court order, Detective. Granting counsel full rights of discovery.”

  “We haven’t charged anybody yet.”

  “Well then, if you’re prepared to sign a statement you won’t be prosecuting my daughter, we’ll just be on our way.”