Chapter 16
After banging on his door several times, commotion filtered down the foyer. The peephole flickered as Gavin peered through. “What do you want?”
“Coconut County,” I said, displaying my badge to the fisheye lens.
“Oh, fuck that. I ain’t talking to you.”
Gavin lived in the Coral Shores apartments. It wasn't a bad place. Just not what you'd expect from a former big-league running back.
The complex was a series of freestanding coral-colored buildings with four units each—two up, two down.
Withered palm trees swayed overhead, and a winding concrete pathway meandered through the complex.
There was a central pool with lounge chairs and a barbecue grill.
It saw a decent amount of activity on the weekends. During the week, it was empty.
No gated or covered parking.
"We just need to talk," I said.
"That's what you assholes always say."
"Man, that season opener against the Raptors was amazing," JD said.
"Hundred and seventy-eight yards on 24 carries and three touchdowns.
That was a franchise record for a rookie, wasn't it?” Jack knew what he was doing.
There was no way this guy could refuse talking about himself and his limited career.
We tried not to grin too hard when Gavin unlatched the deadbolt and pulled open the door. His wary eyes flicked between the two of us.
Gavin was still a big guy, with legs like tree trunks. He would be a hard man to bring down. I bet he still had a little of the old spark in him. Who knows? Lose the attitude, turn it around, work hard. Maybe he could walk on somewhere. But valuable years were drifting away.
"That was impressive," Jack said.
Gavin gave a subtle nod. "Yeah, well, those days are long gone."
"Better to have tasted victory than never to have known it."
"I guess. But that shit doesn't pay the bills now.”
We both gave sympathetic frowns.
“When was the last time you saw Coach Madison?” I asked.
His face twisted with a scowl.
All the pieces were starting to fit.
Gavin was a player who could have been a star. Out of the gate, he showed promise. After that one game, people were pinning the future of the franchise on this kid. Announcers compared him to the greats and speculated we were “Witnessing the birth of a star.”
The buzz was unbelievable.
And so was Gavin’s ego.
It had gotten out of control. Confidence and bravado are one thing. This was on another level. It probably would have been tolerable had he lived up to expectations.
But that second game essentially ended his career.
He’d been that sleeper second-round pick the team had nabbed for not much money, comparatively speaking.
Season one was a bust. Surgery. Intense rehab.
Season two was lackluster. Gavin never had the same explosiveness. But the ego remained. Constant clashes with Coach Madison and the press, combined with a reputation for nightlife indulgences, led to the kid getting cut midway through the season.
Just like that, everybody forgot about him.
Now, with his recent arrest for DUI, his CDL had been suspended. He lost his job delivering packages for a big box online retailer. This was after he’d lost the construction gig for showing up drunk on multiple occasions.
Gavin’s life was in free fall.
Just the kind of stressor needed to send someone over the edge. Maybe enough to send them into a homicidal rage.
“Man, fuck that guy!” Gavin said.
It was a common sentiment.
“Still holding a grudge?” I said.
“Damn right. That guy ruined my life. Sabotaged my career.”
“You seem pretty hot about it.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“I suppose so. I’d want to kill the guy.”
"I sure would like to. I can think of all kinds of fun ways to do it.”
"Got any particular methods in mind?”
Gavin's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Shit. I ain't stupid. You think I'm gonna talk about that shit with you?”
"So, you've given it some serious thought?"
"Every time I get a past due notice. I’d have millions if it wasn't for him.
You know what the worst part is? I gotta deliver packages to that son-of-a-bitch on a regular basis.
See that hot-ass wife of his, living it up in style.
She ain't nothing but a tramp." He laughed.
"Hell, the whole team ran a train on her. Girl’s got skills, though.
I'll give her that. The only satisfaction I get is knowing every time he kisses her lips, he's tasting the whole team. " He grinned.
Gavin obviously hadn't seen the news.
"Where were you last night between 9 and 10:30 PM?”
Suspicion filled his eyes again. "What difference does that make?”
"Just curious.”
Gavin stared me down for a long moment. "Something happen to Coach Madison?" he asked, finally catching on.
"You could say." I paused for dramatic purposes. “He was killed last night."
Gavin's eyes rounded with surprise. "No shit?”
"No shit.”
A faux frown tightened his face. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy. How’d he get it?"
"I can't discuss ongoing investigations.”
"That's why you're asking all these questions. You think I did that shit?"
"You did just express an interest in killing him."
"Shit, I was just talking out my ass. I don't like the guy, but wouldn't actually kill him. You think I'd be stupid enough to admit something like that?”
I shrugged.
There was no doubt in my mind that Gavin Carter wasn’t splitting atoms or performing robotic brain surgery.
Gavin just shook his head. "This is why I don't talk to cops. Nothing good ever comes from it. You twist around words, fabricate stories out of whole cloth.”
His recent DUI wasn’t his first run-in with the law. His juvenile record was sealed, but word on the street was that he got popped for a string of home burglaries when he was 14. He was also questioned in the death of a rival gang member, but no charges were ever filed.
"Just tell me where you were last night," I said.
"I was with this chick. She can tell you. I didn't hurt nobody, except that ass.”
"And what is this wonderful woman's name?"
His face tightened. “Why you gotta bring her into this?"
"I need somebody to verify your story."
"Delilah."
"How do I get in touch with Delilah?"
"I don't know. It wasn’t a long-term relationship.”
"Was this by chance a transactional relationship?"
His face wrinkled at me. "What do you mean?"
"Did you have to pay Delilah for her company?”
"I don’t have to pay for nothing." He laughed. "Bitches be throwing that shit at me.” He looked at JD. "Like you said, better to be a has-been than a never-was-been.”
"Where did you meet Delilah?" I asked.
Gavin hesitated a moment. "I don’t gotta tell you.”
"Did you pick her up on Dowling Street?"
A guilty frown tugged his face. "I didn’t have to pay nothing. She was just happy to lend a hand, if you know what I mean.”
I figured that with some doing, we might be able to track down Delilah.
"You mind if we take a look around your apartment?"
His face wrinkled again. "What for?”
Whoever killed Coach Madison would have been covered in blood—arms, legs, torso, shoes.
"I believe you're going to need some kind of warrant for that."
"No problem. We can get one. You already admitted to a strong desire to kill the man. Your alibi for last night is questionable at best. Delilah might not even remember servicing you.”
That was probably the biggest insult. His jaw tightened, and the veins in his forehead bulged.
Gavin Carter didn't have much, but he still had his ego and his legacy—perhaps one of the most promising running backs that failed to launch.
Paying for company, only to be forgotten the next day, was a tough pill to swallow by the former star.
Gavin's brain worked overtime as he processed everything.
There was a reasonable chance we might be able to get a judge to sign off on a warrant. It wasn't a slam dunk by any means.
"Sucks about your DUI. Looks like you're out of a job again." I said it just to get under his skin. Sometimes people make errors when they’re pissed.
"That's bullshit! I wasn't even drinking. That machine is wrong. The whole thing is rigged."
I didn't buy it, but that was his story, and he was sticking to it.