noted,” he replied.
* * *
—
They started with vodka gimlets, made to Stone’s recipe, then moved on to conch chowder, then to fresh yellowtail snapper, and finished with key lime pie.
Back in Max’s somewhat redecorated living room, Stone and Dino loosened their belts a notch, and Dino got down to business. “Can you rope in this Dixie guy, so I can have a chat with him?”
“Sure. You want it informal, like at his apartment, or you want him in the KWPD tank, which is less hospitable?”
“Let’s make him as uncomfortable as possible. Oh, and I’d like a New York City phone book and a four-foot length of rubber hose on the table in the tank.”
“Dino . . .” Max said.
“Oh, not to use on him, just to let him think about it.”
“First of all,” Max said, “why would anybody in Key West, let alone the police department, have a New York City phone book? I don’t think a Key West phone book would impress him, since it’s about the thickness of your average issue of People. And nobody has manufactured rubber hose for decades. The lightweight plastic stuff they sell now wouldn’t terrify him, either.”
“Can you get your hands on a baseball bat?” Dino asked.
“Put it out of your mind. Also, we haven’t seen Dixie or his airplane for a few days now.”
“Maybe it’s being serviced,” Stone said. “Airplanes need work now and then, especially if you’re flying them out to sea.”
“Then I suggest,” Dino said, “that we throw a net out for Dixie, and when the airplane is back and he gets a call, let’s find a way to track his flight.”
“How would we do that?”
“With an electronic tracking system,” Dino replied. “If your department doesn’t stock that equipment, I’ll get something sent down from the big city.”
“I’ll check into it, but I can tell you: if we do have it, it’s likely to be rusty and working only intermittently.”
“I’ll make a call,” Dino said.
“We’ll need to stake out his airstrip,” Stone said, “if we’re going to get access to the airplane.”
“That, I think I can manage,” Max said. “Dino, what do you hope to learn from tracking the airplane?”
“I hope to learn where he transfers his cargo, and I’d like to know what he offloads onto.”
“My guess would be something like a shrimp boat,” Max said. “They fish out in the Gulf, so they wouldn’t attract any notice.”
“Then I’d like to know where the shrimp boat, or whatever it is, goes to unload the cargo.”
“Probably somewhere on the Gulf Coast of Florida,” Max said, “or it could be as far as Alabama or New Orleans.”
“Wherever it is, we need to know,” Dino said.
“I take it you expect the goods to end up in New York,” Max said.
“I do, or it could just be the cash that ends up there.”
“Whoever is delivering,” Stone pointed out, “isn’t going to be delivering anymore—at least, not to the same address.”
“Good point.”
“What was the name of that bookie Randy was betting with? Somebody who used to work for Datilla the Hun, before his timely death.”
“I don’t remember his name,” Dino said, “but I’ll make a call.”
“Seems like if Randy picked up on these smugglable goods, he would look for partners among his mob connections. I mean, he wouldn’t run down to his bank and say, ‘I’ve got this great investment idea, and I need a loan.’”
“Okay, I’ll get my people to turn Little Italy upside down and see what shakes out.”
“And I’ll get the landing strip staked out,” Max said, “and revisit Dixie’s nearest and dearest, such as they are, and see if I can get a line on where he’s living now.”
“An excellent start,” Stone said. “Now, Mr. and Mrs. Bacchetti, you’re both looking a bit peaked. Why don’t you take my car home, and I’ll hitch a ride in the morning.”
“I’m just getting started,” Dino said, sitting up.
“Get your ass out of here, Dino,” Stone said, “and be quick about it.”
“Come on, Dino,” Viv said. “Stone and Max have other things on their minds.”
“Oh, well,” he said, getting to his feet.
Viv kissed him on the cheek. “And, if you’re still wide awake when we get home, I’ll see if I can think of a way to entertain you.”
The Bacchettis left, and Max and Stone hurried upstairs.
48
Stone’s phone rang at seven AM; he groped the bedside table until he found it. “What?” he said irritably.
“Hedger’s bookie’s name is Pantero,” Dino said. “And the tracking gear is being shipped this morning, will be here