Complicated Matters (23 page)

   She frowned. “Why?” 

   He kissed her pouting lips. “When the FBI tells you to do something, you don’t keep them waiting.” Taylor put his shirt back on. “Besides, the sooner I take care of him,” he kissed her again, “the sooner we can take care of each other.” 

   Chapter 26

   Taylor sat down in a small leather chair. “What do you need, Robeson?” 

   He gestured toward the young woman sitting in the lobby. “I assume that’s the infamous Farrah Mathews out there.”

   “I wouldn’t call her infamous, but yeah, that’s her.” Taylor drew his eyebrows closer together. “What’s all this about?”

   “You are assigned to watch over her.” Robeson started taking notes. “Am I right?” 

   Taylor sat back in his chair. “Yes.” 

   “She’s mighty easy on the eyes. Do you ever think about her in, I don’t know, in other ways?”

   Taylor was tired from pulling double duty since he came to Morgansville. He was upset with Robeson for ignoring his question. Fed or not, he didn’t like where this line of questioning was going. “Luckily for you and a few others, most of my thoughts stay in my head. Now what’s this all about?”

   “I’ve been talking to Special Agent LaBoe. She told me you were in charge of luring Miss Mathews away from her home the night of the break-in.”

   “Now I know where this is going.” Taylor thought back to the talk he had with Flo back when he considered her a friend. “As a child I shared a room with my older brother, Rafael. My dad was a truck driver, and Mom taught both day and evening classes. We spent a great deal of time by ourselves.”

   “Nice memory.” Robeson stopped writing. “What’s it got to do with you helping deputies Jones and Edwards break in to Miss Mathews’ home?”

   “Rafael was four years older than me. Sometimes, he’d bring his girlfriends home for little excursions before Mom got home. I kept this little robot on my desk.” 

   Taylor unlocked a filing cabinet. “Rafael never realized it had a small camera inside. One day, I managed to turn it on before he kicked me out of our room. After the young lady left, I played the tape for him and threatened to show it to Father Montgomery. He beat the crap out of me, but he stopped bringing his girlfriends home.”

   Robeson crossed his arms. “I fail to see the point, Special Agent Taylor.” 

   “I still love small gadgets. And since this is shaping up to be a he said/she said, let’s just turn it into a she said/she said. Let Special Agent LaBoe testify on my behalf.” Taylor popped an SD card into his computer. “Notice the time stamp on the left bottom of the show.” 

   The movie of Flo telling Taylor to take Farrah out played out in living color. 

   “As you can tell, it was all her idea, and I was just dumb enough to go along with it. And before you warn me about the legalities of surveillance, there’s nothing illegal about bugging your own office.” Taylor handed him another SD card. “This one came from my car in case Winthrop gets cute. Look at it carefully. He was in rare form that night.”

   “That’s real nice.” Robeson logged the recordings in as evidence. “Did you ever find the knife used to kill agents Morales and Stevenson?”

   Taylor bowed his head. “No.”

   Robeson slammed his fist into the evidence box. “Damn it.” 

   Taylor leaned forward. “You have the sheriff and his three deputies on tape.” 

   “Yeah, but I need that knife in order to tie LaBoe to the murders.  I have a receipt stating she bought a hunting knife. But I need the actual murder weapon in order to seal her fate. Right now, the best I can do for her is drug trafficking and an illegal firearms charge. Have you looked everywhere?”

   “Yeah. It’s no where to be found.”

   “Well I guess that’s it then. Tell your agents to go home. With the evidence I have, the prosecuting attorney can start making deals. 

   “The Monroes, Clancy, and Miss Berinski will probably plea down to illegal transportation of controlled substances and firearms. 

   “The district attorney and I have already discussed a plea bargain with Jones and Edwards. He has agreed to take the death penalty off the table in exchange for their testimony against Winthrop.” 

   Agent Robeson packed up the paper work. “Winthrop’s a hard case, he’ll go to trial.” 

   “Give me until tomorrow at lunch time. If I don’t have it then, go back to Tallahassee with what you have.”

   “Special Agent Taylor, if you know where that knife is--”

   “If I knew where it was, I’d hand it over to you. I just want to do some more digging.” Taylor dropped some money on the desk. “Go sightseeing, have a meal on me, take in a movie. Just give me until tomorrow at noon. Please, we can’t let her walk on this one. You can even put your big feet on my desk.”

   Taylor called Commander Phillips. “Robeson says he and the DA can plea-bargain with everyone but Winthrop.”

   “That’s what he tells me. Have there been any threats against Millie Jackson’s family or the Mathews.”

   “No, sir.”

   “Okay, send the agents home. I still need you to hang around here until the January elections.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “And tell Morris to bring that camper back to Tallahassee personally.”

   “Yes, sir.  It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

   “Me too, Taylor. Phillips out.”

   Robeson warned him, “You have until tomorrow at lunch time, Taylor. Then I’m going home.”

   “Are you sure neither of those boats crossed over into Mexican waters?”

   “I don’t think so.” Robeson reopened his brief case. “But I can double check just to make sure.”               

   “What are the penalties for bringing drugs into Mexico?” Taylor opened his office door.

   “I’ll have to check.” He grinned. “What are you getting at?”

   “I was just thinking, life in prison in The United States for conspiracy to commit the murders of two agents, or whatever the penalty is for bringing drugs into Mexican waters. Which is more severe?”

   Robeson shrugged. 

   “It might give you something to bargain with if I can’t find that knife.” He got up and went to the door. “Think about it.”

   He opened his cell phone wanting Farrah to hear his next conversation. “Pack it in, Morris. The case is over. Commander Phillips wants
you
to drive that camper back to Tallahassee.” 

   He smiled at Farrah as he dialed another number.

   “Pearsall.”             

   “It’s over. Leave Millie Jackson and her family alone.”

   “Thank you, Special Agent Taylor,” Millie’s agent replied.

   “You’re welcome.” Taylor put his phone away. “She must have worked the poor boy something fierce. He sounds kind of desperate.”

   Farrah took his hand. “Let’s get out of here, Heath.” 

   He looked away from her. “I need to talk to your family.”

   *

   By the time he and Farrah arrived at the Mathews’ farm, Morris and the others were nearly ready to leave.

   Farrah started to leave the truck, but Taylor grabbed her hand. “There’s a few more things I need to take care of. I--

   “Can’t afford to have a hint of impropriety.” Farrah looked down. “I understand.”

   Morris extended his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Taylor.” 

   “You’re only saying that because you think I’m heading back to Miami.” Taylor shook the agent’s hand. “But it’s a nice lie.”

   Morris nodded his head and headed for the camper. 

   Taylor waited until all the agents were gone.

   John and Alex were still practicing their roping skills on horseback.

   He could barely hang onto one of those things. He couldn’t fathom how they could handle the horse and the steer.
Guess you have to be smarter than the horse.

   He walked down the hill. “Can I have a word with you, Mr. and Mrs. Mathews?”

   “Yeah.” John dismounted his horse. “What’s on your mind?”

   Taylor looked away and took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to word this, so I’m just gonna come out and say it. We arrested Flo last night. We’re investigating her as the head of this entire bunch of murdering drug smugglers. But we can’t tie her to the murders of Special Agent Stevenson, and Special Agent Morales without the hunting knife used to kill them.”

   “Morales and Stevenson, those are the young men--” 

   “Yeah.” Taylor stared at the horizon. “They they didn’t deserve to die like that. And what makes it really bad, is they thought they were dying protecting her.” Taylor didn’t know either of the agents, but he still felt connected to them. A tear threatened to escape his eyes, but he wasn’t about to let that happen.” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s a little dusty today.”

   “What do you want from us?” Tara asked.

   “First, let me make one thing clear. I’m not accusing anyone of anything. But I can see where one might perceive something like that as sort of an insurance policy to protect his or her family from possible persons of interest.”

   Taylor stared at each of them. “We have the receipt where she bought the knife. But we need the physical knife to tie her to the murders.”

   There was a long period of silence.

   Taylor headed back to his truck with John and Tara walking beside him. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in months. The security light hanging over my mailbox is broken. If that knife miraculously appears in my mailbox before nine in the morning, I’d consider it a gift and won’t attempt to discover who gave it to me. And I can make sure nobody else does either, especially if all the fingerprints have been wiped off the handle. Good night, all.”

   The next morning a hunting knife appeared in Taylor’s mailbox wrapped in a Hank’s Joint bag. Luminal tests, revealed blood embedded on both the handle and blade.

   Taylor handed it over to Robeson. “Santa came early this year.”

   Robeson checked the receipt to make sure the description fit the knife on the table. “Are you sure this is the knife?” 

   Taylor sat down and propped his feet up. “I thought that’s what forensics teams were for.” 

   “While I’m at it, I’ll see if they can dust the bag for prints.” Robeson bagged and cataloged the knife as evidence. “Maybe they can discover where it came from.” 

   Taylor remembered his promise to the Mathews. “Sure, if you want to waste time eliminating who knows how many prints. I mean, there’s the kitchen staff, whoever ordered and ate the food, whoever put the knife in the bag, my prints are all over it. Of course, there’s also the probability that this bag came out of a trash can. More than likely, whoever put the knife in the bag wore gloves. But go ahead. Satisfy your curiosity. Personally, I’d be more interested in getting the blood matched to Morales and Stevenson. But I’m sure you have an understanding wife. Don’t you?”

   “Good point.” Robeson put everything into the evidence box. “The prisoners have all been transported to a more secure holding facility. I’ll be in touch. By the way, you bought me a nice meal last night. Thanks.”

   “Glad you had a good time.” With the case behind him, he had time to reflect.

   Of all the lousy cops on trial in this case Winthrop and Flo’s betrayal was the worse. Winthrop was a vicious, old bastard. But there was a quality in him Taylor admired. He considered Flo to be a friend. Her betrayal shook him to the core.

   *

   Jerrod Winthrop received the death penalty for his participation in the drug trafficking, aiding the murders of FDLE Agents Patrick Stevenson and Philippe Morales, and helping a felon escape imprisonment. He swore at his sentencing, the authorities would never put a needle in his arm. After two months of incarceration, he walked toward the prison fence in broad daylight. After given three warnings, he was shot to death by the prison sniper.

   Florence LaBoe avoided going to trial by pleading guilty to drug trafficking and possession of illegal weapons, aiding in the torture and murder of FDLE Agents Patrick Stevenson and Philippe Morales. She received twenty consecutive life sentences. Taylor visited her once.

   She strolled into the noisy day room wearing shackles and escorted by two armed guards. “Well hello, Sweetie Pie.” She sat down at the visitation table. “How’s my favorite recruit? You look good in that suit. It’s nice to see my baby boy all grown up.”

   Taylor sat down at the table opposite of her. “How in the hell did you avoid the death penalty?”

   “Has your admiration turned to hatred so quickly?” She picked at her fingernails. “Damn prison system. They won’t even let me have a fingernail file.”

   “They’re probably afraid you’ll stab your bunkmate in the heart with it.” Taylor reasoned. “How did you avoid execution?”

   “Take a plea, avoid the needle.” Flo continued working on her nails. “So, did my boy miss me?”

   “No. I just wanted to see how you look in pylon orange. Wouldn’t you prefer the needle to the gang execution you’re going to get in here when word gets out that you were once a cop?”