Chapter 17
“It’s a shame about the others,” Ford said when we caught up with him at home. “But don’t expect me to feel bad about Dr. Carlson. Guess he got what he deserved.”
I gave him a look.
"What? My wife would still be alive if it weren't for that guy. Do you disagree?"
"Can you tell me where you were at the time of the murders?"
Ford laughed. "You really think I did a drive-by and killed a bunch of innocent people just to get Dr. Carlson?"
"I didn’t mention anything about a drive-by," I said.
Ford gave me a flat look. "It's all over the TV." His eyes flicked between the two of us. “You know, I don't have to say anything to you."
"You're not under arrest," I said.
He laughed. "What could you possibly arrest me for? I’ve done nothing wrong. I was here with my kids. You want to talk to them?” Ford quipped, “They’re traumatized by the loss of their mother, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind getting harassed by you as well."
"Just doing our jobs."
Ford's jaw tensed. "It looks like karma did your job for you. Dr. Carlson won’t be making any more fraudulent prescriptions to patients. Hopefully, no one else in the neighborhood will OD. With any luck, that pool boy will drown. Wouldn’t that be great?
I can certainly tell you he's not going to find employment in this neighborhood anymore. I’m telling everybody I know what was going on between him and Whitney.
” Ford paused. "I guess if he turns up dead, you’ll be banging on my door again, right? "
"You would be a prime suspect if his death looks suspicious."
“Why do I get the feeling that every death looks suspicious to you?”
I shrugged. Around here, there was a lot to be suspicious about.
“I wonder how many other wives in the neighborhood he was banging,” Ford said. “I'm sure there are quite a few husbands who would like to put a bullet into the pool boy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to finish cooking dinner for my kids since they no longer have a mother."
He closed the front door and flipped the deadbolt.
Jack muttered as we strolled down the walkway, "Can’t say I blame the guy for being upset.
I’d be pissed too. But I don't think he mowed down a bunch of Christmas carolers just to get revenge.” He considered it.
“He certainly has the means to hire someone to do it.
But I doubt a guy like that went down to the hood and recruited some gangbangers. "
We hopped into the Porsche and headed back to the station to fill out reports.
Afterward, we grabbed a few cocktails with the guys on Oyster Avenue. It was a pretty low-key night.
In the morning, Denise called. "Toxicology report came back on Wesley Oliver. There was enough fentanyl in his system to kill an elephant. You think some street dealer got careless when he cut his supply?"
"Possible. Sometimes an overdose is good for business. Lets people know you’ve got powerful stuff."
"Won’t have customers for long if they all die," she said. "By the way, I did a little digging on last night’s victims, looking for connections."
"Find anything?"
"Maybe. Nick Kingston is a real estate guy. Slumlord. Owns properties in Jamaica Village. Seller financed. No banks involved. A lot of evictions. You know, the kind of deal where you miss one payment, and you’re gone?”
“A lease to own, but the tenant will never own. Nick was renting to people with a high probability of default.”
“Exactly. Predatory lending, if you ask me.”
“Kind of a legal gray area.”
“I'm sure the guy has made a boat-load of enemies. Might be an avenue to pursue.”
"Might be, indeed."
“I’ll send you addresses and contact info for next of kin for all the victims. Everyone has already been notified."
"Any hits on the vehicle?"
"Nothing was reported stolen. There are at least a dozen Dominator GTs registered on the island. But get this… I broke them down by age and gender—males between 18 and 35. There are two cars that fit. Both owners live in Jamaica Village."
"Now that's starting to sound like a connection.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said with a smile in her voice.
“Nice work.”
“Let me know what you find. Be careful. If this is gang-related…”
“I know.” I thanked her for everything and promised we’d use caution.
The info buzzed my phone a moment later.
JD and I chowed down on breakfast. His phone rang with a call as we finished up. He answered and held the device to his ear. “This is Jack Donovan.” He listened intently, and a wide grin curled his mouth. “Fantastic! I’ll be right there.”
Jack ended the call and couldn’t stop grinning. “Looks like Christmas came early.”
We bused our plates, and I followed Jack to the parking lot. A flatbed had hauled the beast in from Miami.
The driver greeted us with a handshake and a smile. “I’ll get her off the truck, we’ll do a pre-delivery inspection, then I’ll just need a bit of paperwork.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack said.
With a matte stealth gray finish, sharp aggressive lines, and fat knobby tires, the Revenant XTV looked like a space-ace armored personnel carrier.
Made of composite alloys, carbon fiber, and Kevlar, the thing could withstand anything the urban jungle could throw at it.
EV with integrated solar, the amphibious vehicle could thrive on land or sea.
It might not be the fastest thing on the water, but it would get you there in style.
Once the driver got it off the flatbed, we walked around the beast, inspecting for damage.
It was pristine. Not a scratch or blemish.
The build quality was impeccable, like a tank.
The doors were solid yet light and had a satisfying feel to them when opened and closed.
The fresh leather interior filled my nostrils when I peered inside the vehicle.
Retractable steps provided easy access. The ginormous tires gave plenty of ground clearance.
The interior was sleek and modern, with a mix of digital and analogue displays.
Full leather with deviated stitching gave it an upmarket feel.
Luxury and security while traversing apocalyptic wastelands.
Heated seats, adaptive suspension, 4WD with torque vectoring, run-flat tires. The works.
The delivery driver gave us an overview of the features, then Jack signed off on the delivery. With keys in hand, the Revenant was his.
We needed an armored vehicle since the Devastator was sitting in the impound lot in Pineapple Bay as evidence. But this might have been overkill.
“Want to take it for a spin?” Jack said as he sat behind the wheel.
“Hell yes!”
The vehicle came alive when he started it, the dash glowing, reading out vital statistics. The first order of business was to find good music. That was my job. I fooled with the radio until I found something suitable.
We zipped across the island to speak with Nick’s wife, Lena. She lived on Breakwater Lane. The giant knobby tires whirred against the asphalt. There was nothing like it on the island, and only 250 had been allocated nationwide. Most were sitting in showrooms.
It drew stares from everyone. Not exactly a low-profile vehicle. Then again, Jack didn’t do low profile unless it was a mission requirement.
JD parked in front of the mansion, and we ambled to the front door. Jack couldn’t help but look back at the magnificent thing.
Yard crews buzzed next door, blowing leaves in circles. The smell of fresh-cut grass and exhaust filled the air.
I rang the video doorbell.
Lena's voice crackled through the speaker a moment later. "Can I help you?"
I flashed my badge to the lens and made introductions, shouting over the leaf blower. “I hope we’re not interrupting. We just need to ask you a few questions."
"I'll be right there," she said.
The line crackled with static as she disconnected. Lena appeared at the door a few moments later and pulled it open.
She was an attractive woman in her mid-30s with long raven hair that hung to her mid-back, seductive honey eyes, olive skin, and full lips.
"I know this is a difficult time," I said. "We're just trying to put all the pieces together.”
"Do you have any leads?”
I told her we were trying to track down the shooters’ vehicle. "The more we know about your husband, the better.”
She nodded. "People are saying this was a random gang initiation.”
"It could be.”
Lena shivered. "Those people have no idea how many lives they have destroyed. Families broken apart.” Her throat tightened, and her eyes misted.
"Can you think of anybody who may have wanted to harm your husband?”
She cringed. "Nick was such a nice guy. Everybody who knew him loved him.”
I gave her a look. “No problems with tenants recently?”
She stammered. “Nick could be difficult in certain business situations. Don’t get me wrong, he maintained properties and lived up to his word. But he had zero tolerance if somebody didn't live up to their end of the bargain.”
I knew exactly where this was going.
"Did he evict anybody recently?”