Bad Monkey

In the hope of boosting Yancy’s stock as a potential neighbor, Evan Shook informed Ken Turble that Yancy was a police officer. Who wouldn’t feel safer with a cop living on the block? A spark came to Tanya’s green eyes, which again her watchful husband detected.

“What kinda cop?” she asked.

“I’m not free to say.” Yancy steadied himself against a wall. “Sorry about all the blood,” he said to Evan Shook. “Your crew will be painting over it anyway, right? One of these days.”

“Did you go fishing on my property last night?”

Yancy sighed. “Jesus, do I look like I went fishing?” He turned to Tanya Turble. “Wild dogs on the island. They only come out at night.”

“You mean like werewolves.”

“No, darling,” said Kenny, stepping to his wife’s side, “just a bunch of stray mutts.”

Evan Shook spoke in toneless desolation. “I’ve never laid eyes on these animals. Not once.”

Young Tanya addressed Yancy. “Would they eat a collie?”

“Are you kidding? They’d eat a fucking Clydesdale.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, we could keep Barney locked up—that’s our dog.”

Ken Turble was wishing the cop would put on a shirt so that he might recapture his wife’s attention. “No, sweetie, Barney needs open space to run. We can’t leave him cooped indoors all day.”

Evan Shook asked, “Don’t you want to see the view upstairs?”

Kenny said no thanks. Tanya suggested they summon an ambulance for the injured police officer.

“No need,” said Yancy, toddling toward the door. “My girlfriend’s a doctor.”

It hurt so badly that he actually screamed in the shower. Rogelio Burton arrived with nine tubes of Neosporin, the entire inventory from the local Walgreens. While Yancy gooped his multiple lacerations he told Burton everything that had happened since Eve Stripling had come to claim her husband’s severed arm.

Burton said, “You need to clue the sheriff in right away.”

“Not until it’s a lock.”

“That’s insane, Andrew. You’re gonna get yourself killed and blow the case. How did this asshole find you? The guy who tried to drown you.”

“I have a guess,” Yancy said.

He surmised that Gomez O’Peele had a better memory for names than most junkies. The doctor had probably phoned Eve with a shakedown in mind soon after Yancy left the apartment. Told her he’d just been questioned by a cop—how much was it worth to her for him to keep his mouth shut about the Medicare scooter scam? Eve had told him to sit tight and she’d bring some money. Instead she sent Poncho Boy with his .357. Once he pried Yancy’s name out of O’Peele, he put a bullet in the poor slob’s noggin.

Tracking Yancy to his house would have been easy for Eve, who already knew he lived somewhere on Big Pine. An online check of property records would have produced the address. Google would have given her a flawless road map and, as a bonus, the news stories about Yancy’s recent departure from the sheriff’s office. From Eve’s point of view, a disgraced ex-cop wasn’t such a risky target for killing. After all, she and the boyfriend had made her husband’s murder look like an accident; why not the same fate for Yancy?

“Call Sonny,” Burton implored again.

“Sonny does not want to know about this.”

“You’re putting me in a helluva shitty position.”

“What position? You just stopped over for a beer. Big deal.” By now Yancy was shining from the ointment. He looked like an abused gummy bear.

“The widow’s boyfriend jacked my shotgun last night,” he informed Burton. “Oh, and here’s a clever touch: He left an empty booze bottle and one of my spinning rods down by the water, so everybody would think I got drunk and fell in, whatever.”

“Works for me.” Burton had begun to pace. “Phinney’s girlfriend is missing.”

“She left town.”

“Man, could you please put on some clothes?”

“I’m too sticky,” Yancy said. “Hey, Rog, if I slipped you the tail numbers off a seaplane, could you find out who chartered it? I mean without sending up a goddamn flare. I’ll give you the name of the leasing company.”

Burton said, “I’ve got my job to think about, Andrew. A wife plus two kids that might want to get off the rock and go to college someday. Why do I want to get dragged into a mess like this? Look at your victims and tell me who gives a shit. Let’s see—there’s a low-life Medicare scammer, a dock rat and a crooked doctor with a dope habit. Before you come close to making a case, Stripling’s wife and the poncho dude will be long gone. Disappearing is no problem in the Bahamas, mon. You know how it goes.”

“I know that anybody can be found.”

“And who’s gonna pay for your hotels and plane tickets, Andrew? The health department? Are they doing extraditions now, too?” Burton raised his hands. “What’s the fucking point?”

“Catching a couple of murderers, that’s the point,” Yancy said. “Hell, it’s something to do in my spare time. The tarpon run is over.” He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around his waist. “Did I mention that Eve gave the dead husband’s fancy watch to her boyfriend? He was wearing it last night when he clocked me.”