Loitering with Intent

STONE ARRIVED BACK at the Marquesa near lunchtime the next day to find Dino on the phone. Dino punched the speaker button. “You might want to hear this; it’s Dan Hotchkiss.”

“Just a follow-up,” Dan said. “We traced the Pirelli 210 tires to a Mercedes station wagon owned by a Dr. Ralph Peters, of Torrington. Dr. Peters left his car at the airport, and he and his wife went to Maine for a couple of days. When he was taking his baggage out of the car a man offered to help, a white male, fortyish, medium height, medium weight, wearing sunglasses and a yellow ball cap.”

“Dr. Peters said he saw a red Cessna there, too, one that isn’t based there and wasn’t there when he returned this morning. Also, when he got back he realized he was missing his ignition key from his key ring, and he found the key on the driver’s seat. He figured it had fallen off when he was getting out of the car.”

“The tire prints matched the Mercedes,” Dan said. “We got back the ballistics report from our lab, too. The bullet we found in the kitchen wall was a .223. I’ve faxed the report to Tommy Sculley to compare with his slug.”

“So now you know how the killer got to Torrington and out of town,” Stone said. “He’s probably having the airplane painted somewhere in South Florida as we speak.”

“Probably,” Dan agreed. “I don’t think our chances of nailing this guy are very good, which is a shame, because I’d really like to know who hired him.”

“God knows he’s got a motive, but I can’t see him hiring a hit man to kill his son and grandson. He’s in his eighties, and very rich already. I could see how he’d be pissed off at his son for trying to lock him away, but he wouldn’t have anything against the grandson. They were treating each other very warmly when I talked to them.”

“The FBI lab report came back; the poison was thallium, which is found in some insecticides, one of which was present in Warren Keating’s toolshed. That one’s a wash, since Warren is dead, too.”

“Hey, Dan,” Dino said. “Don’t you guys ever catch a killer who’s still alive?”

“Looka here,” Dino said, nodding toward the pool as he closed his phone. Tommy Sculley, the Coast Guard cutter captain and a man they had not seen before were coming down the walkway toward them.

“Morning,” Tommy replied. “Agent Corelli, this is Stone Barrington, an attorney, and Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the NYPD. Fellas, this is Agent Rocco Corelli, of the DEA, and of course you know Lieutenant Tabor, of the U.S. Coast Guard.”

“Mr. Barrington, I understand you represent one Charles Boggs, who owns the boat Lieutenant Tabor impounded yesterday?”

“Actually, I represent the boat’s owner, who is not Charles Boggs but one Evan Keating.”

Stone held up a hand. “Their respective identities are as we first thought them to be,” Stone said. “I’ll explain later, or at least, I think I will.”

“At this moment, he is, I believe, en route back from Connecticut, where he has been attending to his father’s death for the past two days. The father is one Warren Keating, who was murdered a couple of days ago. Evan informed me that he will be back in Key West tonight or tomorrow sometime. He is anxious to speak with you about the drugs we found on his boat.”

“There has been progress in the Warren Keating investigation,” Dino said. “It appears that Mr. Keating was murdered by the same man who tried to murder his son, Evan, in Key West. The descriptions match, and when you get back to your office, Tommy, you should have the ballistics report for comparison with your bullet.”

“Good,” Tommy said. “I’ve sort of brought Tabor and Corelli up to date on all that.”

“Agent Corelli,” Stone said, “Evan Keating maintains that when he and his girlfriend left his boat, after hearing of the death of his father, the stern locker contained nothing but a rubber dinghy, which he took with him, and his mooring lines and fenders, and that it was not secured with a lock. He will tell you this himself after his arrival in Key West.”

“And he has no idea why the locker was full of twenty kilos of pure cocaine, with a street value of millions?”

“None whatever. I should also tell you that Evan Keating is personally wealthy, and that he is anticipating a fifty percent share of the proceeds of the sale of his family’s business, which will make him some hundreds of millions of dollars wealthier. I can attest to this, because I have reviewed the contract for the business sale. Thus, he has no motive to make money from the sale of drugs.”

“That’s very interesting, Mr. Barrington,” Corelli said. “Does he have any other explanation for why the drugs were present on his boat?”

“It seems likely that drug smugglers, who work regularly in and out of Key West, spotted Evan’s boat, which is well known on the island, having been previously owned by the local tennis pro, Chuck Chandler. Perhaps this person or persons thought the drugs might arrive in Key West with less chance of being found if they entered the harbor on a well-known local boat instead of whatever drug-running rocket ship they were traveling in.”

“I do know of a couple of cases where smugglers tried to move drugs on the boats of unsuspecting owners,” Corelli said, “so your supposition is not entirely beyond reason. However, I will still need to question Mr. Keating and his girlfriend, Ms. Jones.”

“If you’ll give me your card,” Stone said, “I’ll arrange a meeting as soon as Evan arrives back in Key West.”

Corelli stood up, and so did everybody else. “In that case, I’ll look forward to your call,” he said, handing Stone his card.