Clearwater Journals

I took a quick look around for Papa when I got outside. There was no sign of him. I could hear the sirens approaching as I turned the Jag south on Gulfview Boulevard. Three minutes later, I pulled my car to a stop behind the office of a way back from the beach motel. After I had paid fifty bucks cash for my room, I went back out to the Jaguar and parked it in dark back corner of the parking lot. Carrying only my loaded pillowcase and my backpack, I entered my room off the lot.

  The room had a double bed and twenty-inch television. The washroom smelled of a strong pine disinfectant which trumped whatever it was disinfecting. I would be here for only a few hours, so it didn’t affect me that much. Before I had a shower and flopped onto bed, I took time to make a phone call and leave a message on Cooper’s voice mail. I had learned a fair bit from Terry that he needed to know. I backed the call up by dictating a quick synopsis of what I had learned onto my tape recorder. I included a statement of my intentions. No matter what happened to me the next day, I needed to be certain that the cops learned what I had found out.

  The wake-up call came at three thirty. It was still dark as I showered and dressed in my jeans and navy blue T-shirt. I transferred the Sig and its suppressor from my pillowcase to join the Beretta in my back- pack and drove away ten minutes later. I grabbed a jelly donut and small chocolate milk at the all night Waffle House. I made a quick call to Tampa General to check on Mia. She was enjoying a good night’s sleep and her condition was now listed as fair. I asked the nurse to tell Mia that I would be by to visit her later that day. As I hung up the receiver, I paused to wonder if I had just told a big fat lie.

  I took my milk and jelly donut outside to the darkness of the parking lot. I could hear the channel waves washing up against the break-wall. As I crossed the black tarmac to the Jag, I started thinking about the futility of Langdon’s death—and my role in it. At some time in the hours before he was killed, he had met Ted Bullock and accused him of sexually abusing Vickie. Ted had sent Terry to kill Langdon. And Ted had killed Vickie because he was worried that his not too bright stepdaughter would tell Mia that her old stepfather was screwing her and had been for a long time. I’m not a psychologist or a social worker, but I’d bet ten to one that Ted had done the same stuff with Mia when she had lived at home. If that was so, and Mia found out that Ted was diddling Vickie, he had to fear that Mia’s old memories would be stirred up and the two sisters would finally do something about it. An allegation of sexual abuse reported to the police would change his life and business forever. Mia’s personal disclosure alone would land him in some steep legal trouble. He had to act. It seemed the logical explanation for the events of the last few days.

  But when I had raised the probability of either Ted and or son being the killer, Langdon had told me that both of them had a really incredible airtight alibi. A number of objective witnesses had seen them at a “stag” for some neighbour’s kid. Had Langdon somehow broken down that alibi? Or was he maybe blowing smoke to see what Ted did? That action would not be typical cop behaviour. They have to play by the rules. But then again, Langdon wasn’t a cop anymore. There were no rules. I remembered why I had my own red flags about both men and their possible involvement in Vickie’s murder. And that was even before I had met either one of them. Both of those sick assholes would be quite capable of killing the kid.

  What else came out of my chat with Terry? I found out that the senior Bullock could easily manipulate his son, just as he had done when he sent junior out looking for me. I found myself believing what Terry had told me just before he blanked out. He had mumbled his explanation for taking out Langdon. Is that a confession or what? That left Ted Bullock as the one who had beaten and raped Mia—or someone he hired. But cut it anyway you wanted, he was responsible for what had happened to both of his stepdaughters.

  And that kind of fit too. He could have taken Mia’s message off his home answering machine. Mia had left a message telling her mother to meet her at the apartment. Mia said that her attacker had knocked her out before she had managed to recognize him. She had been blindfolded during her entire ordeal. The blindfolding could mean that, initially, the guy had not meant to kill her. Rage had taken over at some point, and he had hurt her more than he had intended. If he wanted to kill her from the start, why blindfold her and miss seeing the terror in her eyes? That was the thrill for any psychopath. No, this guy knew that she would recognize him. But then why not just kill her? He had killed Vickie. Unless Florida has come up with some way of executing someone more than once, the guy had nothing to lose. But again, maybe his objective had been to terrify her into calling off the investigation into Vickie’s death. Simply back off; leave it alone. At the hospital, Mia had begged me to stop the investigation. It was too dangerous. Other people would get hurt. Killing Mia would only intensify that investigation. Ted had obviously missed the class about big boulders rolling down steep hills.

  I started to wonder if Kemp or Cooper would arrive to arrest me before I finished what I had started. If Kemp had wanted me to come in with legal representation when all I had done was shake up Billy Ray, he’d now be looking for my head after what I had done the night before to Terry Bullock.

  Fortunately, my meditations were interrupted before I hurt my brain too badly. Trying to tie up all the loose ends like the Bullocks, Kemp and Cooper and my future lawyers was starting to give me a headache. It didn’t matter right then though, because I knew exactly what I was going to do during the next hours. Ted Bullock was an evil person. I was going to send him to hell.

  I had originally only intended to use Mia’s keys to use her car if I needed it, but now I had another use for them. I drove by the Bullock’s Belleair residence. The huge water fountain in the middle of the driveway turn-around was floodlit and spewing water. Other than that, there were no lights on. That would change shortly. I set the GPS and drove through almost empty streets to Mia’s apartment.

  I used Mia’s keys to enter her apartment, and I flicked on the light only after I had partially opened the windows and then covered them. The air was hot, stale, and musty. I set to work setting up my trap. I was sweating by the time I finished. I drank a bottle of water, and then checked again to see that everything was in place. A mistake now could be fatal. Satisfied, I dialed the Bullock’s home number, and waited. On the seventh ring, the sleepy voice of Ted Bullock answered.

  “Yeah?”

  In my most professional cop’s voice I said, “This is Officer Davis of the Tampa Police Department. I am sorry to disturb you this early in the morning sir. I have an urgent message for Mrs. Eliza Bullock, formerly Doulton? Would she be there?”

  “What the fuck is this about? I’m her husband. Tell me.”

  “Sorry sir; the message is confidential sir.”

  I waited half expecting Ted to simply hang up. If he was as sharp as Terry had him, he would figure that Officer Davis would keep calling—or even send a cruiser out. Just get it over with.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Bullock.

  “Eliza,” I said. “Sorry about the early morning call and the little deception. It’s Joe. Just listen okay. I stayed at Mia’s apartment last night, and I found a little diary in some of her stuff. I’m going to take it to the police in a while because it outlines a whole history of the sexual abuse Ted did to her before she left your home. It also says that the reason she has never told anyone about the abuse was because Ted said that he would kill her and you if she did. Kill you Eliza is what it says. Are you there?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was faint.

  “I’m not going to the police with this for another hour or so, but when I do, Ted is going to be pretty upset. The cops will probably arrive at your home later this morning. I don’t want you to be taken hostage. Maybe you should make an excuse to go to church or something like that. Anyway, I’m still hoping that I’ll find some more stuff in the apartment. You need to get away from him because this is all going to hit the fan. Be careful.”

  I figured that if Eliza was in any way involved,
Ted was getting the little diary message as soon as she hung up. If Mia had asked her mother directly to join her at the apartment, Eliza had to be involved. Ted would have to react. But if Mia left a message on their answering machine and Ted intercepted it, perhaps Eliza wasn’t a part of this deal. If that was the case, she could just get away from the house before I had to go to Plan B. I would know soon enough.

  Ted might have been able to find somebody to come for me if he had enough time. He didn’t. I had put the pressure on. I had said a couple of hours. With or without Eliza, he had to come. I was ready.

  Shootout in Little Beirut