Chapter FORTY-SIX
J.D. came through the front door a couple of hours later. “I found Jeff this afternoon,” she said.
“Hello to you, too, Detective,” I said.
She laughed. “Sorry. This may be the break we need. I guess I’m kind of pumped.”
“Happy to be back at work?” I asked.
“Bet your—well, you know what. That thing you sit on. Yes.”
“Tell us about Jeff,” I said.
“A man named Jeff Worthington was an inmate at Glades until a few months ago. He was doing fifteen years for manslaughter. Killed a bouncer at a club in Tampa. He did every day of the fifteen, and was released on June first. Nobody’s heard from him since. He’s completely off the grid.”
“Why do you think he’s the one?” I asked. “If he’s been in prison for fifteen years, he couldn’t have had anything to do with the whale tail killings twelve years ago.”
“That’s true, but he’s the only prisoner down there named Jeff who’s been released within the past year. At least the only one not accounted for. A couple of others are on parole, but they’re nowhere near Sarasota and they’re checking in with their parole officers regularly. And, this Jeff shared a cell with Pete Qualman for a couple of years.”
“Bingo,” said Jock.
“I still don’t see the connection to the whale tail murders,” I said.
J.D. smiled at me like she might if I were a child with little understanding of the world. “I don’t either, sweetie, but we’re closer than we were before you came up with Jeff’s name.”
“I like it when you call me ‘sweetie,’” I said. “What now?”
I got the same look again. “More cross-referencing,” she said. “I called Steve Carey, and he said he’d come in tomorrow and take over that job.”
“So you think Jeff is in Sarasota,” said Jock.
“All I’ve got to go on is what that poor girl down in Clewiston had to say.”
“Anything new on Gene’s case?” Jock asked.
“Not really. I’ve been through all the evidence the forensic guys turned up, but there wasn’t much. Whoever the killer was, he was careful. Did you get anything in Washington?”
“Yes. But we’ve got a problem.”
“The missing laptop?” she asked.
“That’s part of it.”
“What else?”
“Most of what I know is a national security problem that only the president, the director of my agency, and I know about. I can’t share it.”
“President of what?” she asked.
“The United States.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you telling me?” she asked.
“Nothing. That’s the problem. I need to know what you know, but I can’t tell you what I know.”
“What are you planning to do with my information?”
“I’m hoping it’ll get me closer to the killer. We’re pretty sure Gene’s murder is connected to something we’re working on.”
“And if you find the killer before I do, what then?” asked J.D.
“That’s some of the stuff I can’t tell you.”
“Or won’t.”
“Gets us to the same place either way.”
“You tell your president that information sharing is a two-way street.”
“Not this time, J.D. I want to cooperate with you because we’re friends, and you’re a hell of a detective, but I can’t. Not on this one. Not without your promise that the information I give you will go no further. Not even to Bill Lester. I’ve got the director’s authorization to share my information with you, but only with the stipulation that it stays with you.”
“Jock,” she said, “I can’t and won’t work outside the department. If the chief tells me I can keep some aspects of this investigation secret, I’ll do it. But not otherwise. And he’s not going to agree to that. He has to answer to the town manager and, eventually, the state attorney and the press.”
Jock shrugged, as if dismissing the subject. “It sounds like you don’t have a whole lot to go on, anyway,” he said.
“I don’t. Not right now. But I will know more. And soon. I’m good at what I do.”
“I know that and I need you. I’ll make a call. In about half an hour, Chief Lester will give you the go-ahead.” He grinned. “I look forward to working with you, Detective.”
She laughed, derisively. “Right,” she said. “Matt, did you order the pizza?”
I hadn’t, but I picked up the phone and called Oma’s.
Chief Bill Lester lived in the village a couple of blocks from my cottage. He arrived at the same time as the pizza delivery guy. He was red in the face, agitated, but he held his tongue until the pizza dude left. “Goddamnit it, Jock, do you know who I just got off the phone with?”
Jock grinned. “Yes.”
“The goddamned president of the United States,” said Lester, his voice loud.
“Y’all have a nice chat?” Jock asked, still grinning.
“If you call a presidential request to turn my department over to you a nice chat.”
“Now, Bill,” Jock said. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Almost.” Lester was calming down. “But the goddamned president of the United States? He said he was calling on your behalf, Jock. Can you believe that shit, Matt?”
“Sure can,” I said.
J.D. sat, rooted in her chair, stunned by the chief’s outburst.
Lester shook his head, turned to J.D. “He was calling about you, Detective.”
“Me?” she said.
Bill nodded. “He suggested I give you the authority to work with these two jacklegs and keep it all to yourself. Take me and the whole goddamned law enforcement community out of the loop.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I guess you told him you run this department,” she said.
“Sure,” Bill said, sarcastically. “And I didn’t mention that I report to the town manager who reports to the town commission, all seven of whom are politicians. Or that I know that the U.S. Attorney and the governor, who, by the way, are members of the same party as the president, are already involved in this mess. I told him to go piss up a rope.”
“What did you really say?” I asked.
“I said, ‘Yes, sir,’” said Bill. “I said that a number of times. And then I called the town manager and told him what I planned to do and who had suggested it.”
“And what do you plan to do?” I asked.
“Exactly what the goddamned president of the United States asked me to do. It’s your show, Jock, and J.D is yours for the duration.”
“Bill,” I said, “I’m not sure Gene Alexander’s murder is connected to the others.”
“I’m not either. The president is only interested in the Alexander case, so J.D., you work them all and handle the others the same way we always do. If they turn out to be tied together, we’ll talk about it and decide how to go from there.”
“Just how pissed are you, Bill?” Jock asked.
“Pretty pissed. I guess a couple slices of Oma’s best would probably take the edge off.”
“No problem,” I said.
“You got any beer?” asked the chief.
“No problem,” I said.