Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
I was on my patio drinking coffee and watching daylight slowly push back the darkness. There was no sun that Friday morning and the bay looked bleak. A chilly wind blew from the north. A weak cold front was moving in and would probably bring some rain.
We had turned in early the night before. Jock drove to J.D.’s condo and retrieved the suitcase of clothes she’d packed that morning. She was tired and went to bed early. Jock and I sat for an hour talking about old friends and times gone by. He went to bed and left me with my thoughts.
J.D. and I hadn’t yet finished our conversation about our future, or lack thereof, and somebody was trying to kill her and perhaps me. Not a good way to start a relationship, even if that was what she wanted. I couldn’t tell. I gave it up and went to bed. I slept fitfully and was up early.
The somber bay, gray and foreboding under the cloud cover, matched my mood. Even the seabirds that nested nearby were quiet. In deference to the weather, I was wearing socks, boat shoes, jeans, and an old sweatshirt that read “Longboat Key, a Place in the Sun.” Well, most days that was true.
The morning paper was full of bad news, but then that seemed to be the state of things these days. The Bradenton City Council had annexed some land a few months before when the county fathers balked at a developer’s plans to turn a beautiful piece of bayside property into another condominium complex. The city then granted permits for the developers to start tearing up more of our limited waterfront property. They were planning a couple hundred condos in five high-rise buildings overlooking the bay near the Manatee Avenue Bridge. It didn’t matter that someday when the big hurricane came ashore, the roads would not be able to handle the traffic fleeing to safety. No thought was given to what that many people would do to our beaches or the strain they would put on our water supply. All the councilmen could see was the taxes that would flow from the new residents. More money for them to piss away. The Florida I knew and loved, the one in which I’d grown up and lived in for most of my life, was dying under the onslaught of the omnipresent bulldozer.
Soon the coastal zone would be overrun with people and they would start moving inland. That was already happening north of Orlando, all the way to the Georgia state line. Towns springing up, old Florida villages becoming boom towns fueled by the new retirees’ need for sunshine. I supposed the growth would eventually make its way into the cattle ranches and truck farms of the interior of South Florida. What then? What would we do when that last vestige of old Florida filled up with people ignorant of the history of this magical place? Invade Cuba, I guess. Build a bridge across the Florida Straits so the snowbirds could move easily into the Caribbean. Castro wouldn’t know what hit him.
My cell phone rang. I looked at my watch, not yet seven. Blocked ID. I answered.
“Matt, Martin Sharkey.”
“Good morning.”
“I understand our detective is sleeping over with you.”
“Well, she’s in the guest room.”
He laughed. “Sorry about that. Is she up yet?”
“No. She’s sleeping in. I can wake her.”
“If you don’t mind. It’s important.”
“I’ll have her call you back. You at the office?”
“Tell her to call my cell. She has the number. And tell her I’m pulling the cop from your front yard. We’ll have somebody there again tonight.”
I knocked on the guest room door. “J.D.?”
I heard a sleepy voice say, “What?”
“Sharkey called. He needs to talk to you.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost seven. He said to call him on his cell. Said you have the number.”
“Okay. I’m awake. I’ll call him. What’s the weather like?”
“A little chilly. Better put on some clothes.”
“I thought I would, you pervert.”
I went to the kitchen and put on a fresh pot of coffee and then back to the patio and my paper. The news hadn’t gotten any better.
J.D. came out fifteen minutes later. She was wearing jeans, a plain white sweatshirt, and running shoes. Her hair was in a ponytail, still wet from the shower. She had a cup of coffee in her hand. “Good morning, Sunshine,” I said.
She smiled and sat down next to me. “Good morning, Matt. Wouldn’t you be warmer inside?”
“Are you cold?”
“A bit. Want to go to the Dolphin for breakfast?”
“Sure. I’ll wake Jock up.”
“He’s up. I heard him rattling around in his room.”
“Sharkey sounded as if his call was important,” I said.
“The superintendent down at Glades Correctional e-mailed a bunch of stuff to Bill Lester during the night. I guess the governor must have chewed on him a bit.”
“Anything that’ll help?”
“Martin said there was a lot of paper. He wants me to come in and look at it. He said if I showed up without you or Jock, I’d be in trouble.”
“You got time for breakfast?”
“Sure. An hour or two isn’t going to make a bit of difference.”