Loitering with Intent

TO REACH THE restaurant, Stone and Dino walked out the front entrance of the hotel and to the street corner, to the front door of the dining room. It was a tastefully decorated space, with a bar to the left and a dozen or fifteen tables to the right. An attractive blonde greeted them.

“You must be Mr. Barrington and Mr. Bacchetti,” she said, “according to my list.”

“That’s us,” Stone replied. “And we have another gentleman joining us.”

“I’m Janet,” she said. “Right this way.” She seated them at a corner table and left menus.

“You may suppose we do,” the waiter replied. “We have another customer who forced us to order it.”

The restaurant was filling up rapidly; even all the bar stools were taken. “Busy place,” Stone said.

“The food must be good,” Dino replied. “Hey, here’s Tommy!” He stood up to greet their old acquaintance as he entered the restaurant, and so did Stone. Shortly, Tommy had a margarita before him.

“After a while down here, it gets to be unpatriotic if you don’t,” Tommy replied.

“Are you kidding? You’re in Paradise; we get like one homicide a year, if we’re lucky, and it’s nearly always perfectly clear who the killer is. He’s usually standing there, holding a gun or a claw hammer in his hand, when we walk in. The only problem is getting him not to talk too fast while we’re taking his statement.”

“Drug stuff, burglaries, mostly small-time. We get a lot of drifters down here, especially in the winter. They at least know they’re not going to freeze to death, and they can steal enough to eat. We get the usual domestic stuff, too, only more of it is gay than in New York.”

“Pretty interesting. The first thing I had to do was to train my partner, a kid named Daryl, whose acne had not yet cleared up. He was the chief’s nephew at the time.”

“No, he was quick to learn, and he’s turned into a pretty good detective. His uncle is gone now, and so is the guy who replaced him. Last week, the chief and two captains resigned over a scandal.”

“Fixing parking tickets, harassing gay guys on bicycles, hiring girlfriends as secretaries and fucking them in the supply room, drinking on the job, you name it. Nothing big, just a lot of continuous horseshit. I’m currently acting chief of detectives—all six of them. They offered me the chief’s job, but I’m too old for the politics and the PR horseshit.”

“I don’t blame you,” Dino said. “I’m running the squad at the Nineteenth, and that’s almost more politics than I can stand.”

“What’s the most interesting case you’ve worked down here, Tommy?” Stone asked.

“Oh, that’s an easy one,” Tommy laughed. “We had a big drugs, murder, sex thing right after I signed on that involved some prominent locals, among them the local tennis pro. You remember a player named Chuck Chandler?”

“That’s the guy. The sports pages called it the Chuck Choke, and it stuck.”

“Nah, he was pretty much the dope in the thing. There was one very hot babe mixed up in it, though. She’s doing time right now, ought to be out soon.”

“Beautiful in the winter, spring and fall; hot as hell in the summer, but no worse than New York. At least we get the breeze. You like boats?”

“I’ll take you out for some snorkeling,” Tommy said. “Snorkeling and a few drinks. We got a very nice little yacht club here, and I’ll take you there for dinner. Tomorrow night?”

“I’m running a legal errand,” Stone said. “I’ve got to find a guy and get him to sign some papers.”

“I doubt it. Kid hates his father, but the old man needs his signature on some papers to sell the family business. Means a lot of bucks for the whole family, the kid, too, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble to persuade him.” Stone showed Tommy the old photo of Evan.

“In a manner of speaking,” Tommy replied. “I busted him in a drug case yesterday, but it ain’t going to stick.”

Tommy motioned his chin in the direction of the bar. “Right over there, third stool from the left.”

Stone looked toward the bar. The man’s back was mostly to him, but he could catch a little profile. He was heavier than in his college photo and had longer hair, and he was dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and a flowered shirt, with the tail out, Hawaiian-style. He was talking to a beautiful girl on the next bar stool, with long, honey-colored hair, dressed in tight jeans and a leather jacket.

“Excuse me a minute,” Stone said, rising and walking toward the bar. He walked up to the two people, who turned and looked at him. Evan Keating had a thin, straight nose and bright blue eyes.

“Mr. Keating?” Stone said. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I just wanted to introduce myself.” He handed the young man his card. “My name is Stone Barrington, and I’ve been sent by my law firm to Key West to deliver some documents for your signature.”

“You must think I’m somebody else,” Keating said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m aware of that, Mr. Keating, but we could get together for a few minutes tomorrow morning. I’m sure you will find our conversation greatly to your advantage.”

Keating regarded him evenly for a moment without speaking, then he said, “Why don’t we step outside for a moment and discuss this?”

Keating got up and led the way out, while Stone followed. Outside on the sidewalk a bench had been placed as a waiting area for the restaurant, and Keating motioned Stone to sit down.

Stone sat down next to Keating, his back to the restaurant door. “I know this will come as a surprise to you, but my law firm represents Elijah Keating’s Sons, and . . .”