Free Matt Royal Mystery - 03 - Blood Island by H. Terrell Griffin

breathing hard, but he'd gotten
himself cleaned up and put on a pair of shorts.
    "Why would somebody want to kill you?" I asked.
    "Don't know"
    "Look, Fats. Somebody's out to get me and probably you as well.
Once the cops get here they're going to separate us and you're not going
to be able to tell me what's going on. Do it now, and maybe I can figure out
how to save our asses. Does this have something to do with Jake Yardley?"
    "Probably. There's a lot I can't tell you, Mr. Royal, but I'll tell you
what I can."
    "Call me Matt."
    "Okay, Matt. I knew Clyde Varn from way back. I recognized him
right away, the first time he came in here. He said his name was Jake Yardley, but I knew better."
    "Where did you know him from?"
    "Down in the Keys, and later, Miami."
    "How did you know him?"
    "We worked for the same outfit."
    "Come on, Fats. We don't have all day. Spell it out."
    "We worked for Javier Savanorola. He was in the drug business.
Clyde was hired muscle. I handled the books and kept the IRS offJavier's
back.
    "The feds came down on us hard six or seven years ago. Clyde and
I both testified for the government. He disappeared, and I figured Javier
had him killed. I left town, changed my name, and bought this place."
    "Didn't Clyde recognize you when he came in?"

    "No," Fats said. "I've gained about a hundred pounds, and when we
worked together Iliad a full beard. I don't think anybody from those days
would recognize me."
    "What was your name?"
    "Can't tell you, Matt. Sorry."
    "Did you spend much time with Varn?"
    "For a while. He lived up the street in the trailer park and would
come in most days. We'd sit here at the bar and talk."
    "About what?"
    "Sports, mostly. He did tell me that he came here from Kansas, but
he never told me anything else of a personal nature."
    "How did he make his living?" I asked.
    "I don't know. He never said anything about a job."
    "Could he have been doing work for the drug guys in South
Florida?"
    "I doubt it. They put a contract out on him after he testified against
them. I figured that's why he changed his name."
    I heard sirens in the distance, drawing closer. Tires crunched onto
the shell parking lot. Car doors slammed. Feet ran on the cement floor
below, the leather boot soles making slapping sounds. Leather equipment
holders creaked, and I heard a rifle chambering a round.
    "Up here," I called out. "We're unarmed."
    There was quiet for a beat, two, and then a voice, strained with tension, came from below. "Come to the door where I can see you. Hands
over your head. Come out slow"
    I lay my gun on the bed and eased over to the door, hands raised. I
stood by the jamb and said, "I'm coming out. Here are my hands." I stuck
them into the doorway. If some trigger-happy cop was going to shoot, I'd
rather he hit my hands than my chest.
    "Show yourself," came the voice from below.
    "I'm coming out," I said, and slipped into full view in the doorway,
hands high.
    "Anybody else up there?"
    "One live and one dead guy," I said. "The live one's coming over
now."

    I looked back at Fats. He was standing with his hands up. I nodded.
He started walking slowly toward me. Heavy footsteps were bounding up
the stairs. Just as Fats got to me, a sheriff's deputy came through the doorway and shoved a rifle into my gut.
    "Move back," said the cop.
    I did, being careful not to step on the body.
    Another deputy came through the doorway, pistol drawn. He looked
at the dead guy, stopped, reached down, and felt for a pulse in his neck. He
stood back up, shaking his head, and looked at me. "Who're you?"
    "I'm Matt Royal. I live on Longboat Key. I have identification. The
gun on the bed is mine. I shot this guy with it."
    The cop nodded, then looked at Fats.
    "I'm Fats Monahan. I live here."
    The deputy took a deep breath. "The detectives will be here in
a minute," he said. "Let's just sit tight until they get here. Don't touch
anything."
    He signaled us to put our hands down. He walked