Free Loitering With Intent by Stuart Woods Page B

money?
    That's it. Independence means they don't have to be nice to the folks anymore.
    Kind of sad, isn't it? Stone asked.
    I still talk to my old man a couple of times a week, Tommy said.
    He's in a retirement home in Boca. He comes down here for Christmas, or we go up there. But then I don't have a trust fund.
    My folks are gone, Stone said, and I miss them.
    I'll bet you didn't have a trust fund, either.
    Nope.
    Hang on a minute, Tommy said. Hey, Jim, have you ever heard of a bank in Miami called South Beach Security? Pick up the extension, line three.
    Hello? another voice said.
    Stone, this is Jim Pierce; he's the worst kind of fed: an FBI man.
    Hi, Jim.
    Hi, Stone. How'd you get tangled up with this reprobate?
    Beats me.
    Jim, tell Stone about South Beach Security.
    Tell you what I know, Stone. The bank is less than five years old; majority stockholder is one Max Melfi. I'm told he's from old sugarcane money in the Glades, but I can't prove it. I can't prove the bank is dirty, either, but the name keeps coming up in investigations. You might say it's red-flagged with us. Why do you want to know about South Beach Security?
    Friend of mine sold his boat for a bunch of money, and the deal was done in cash, some of it with wrappers from South Beach Security.
    Sounds like whoever bought your friend's boat is in the drug business.
    Possible, but unlikely. The guy told me he had sold a previous boat for cash and that's why he had so much on hand.
    Then the guy who bought his boat is probably dirty. In my experience honest people don't do business in large sums of cash, unless they're dodging the IRS, and that's dishonest, too. You want to tell me who the three parties in this two-boat transaction are? I'll check it out.
    Not yet, but maybe later.
    Pierce gave Stone his cell phone number. You can get me there 'most anytime, unless I'm doing business, and if that's the case, I'll call you back.
    Maybe we'll talk later, Jim. Nice to talk to you, Tommy. See you later.
    Stone hung up. You get the gist of that? he asked Dino.
    Pretty much. Maybe Evan Keating is in deeper than he thinks.
    Maybe.

    Chapter 20
    STO N E WA S GET T I N G out of the shower when his cell phone vibrated. Hello?
    It's Eggers.
    Hey, Bill.
    Okay, I'm FedExing you the sales contract for Elijah Keating's Sons. I had a hard time getting Warren Keating to let me do it, but I convinced him the sale won't go through until Evan sees the deal. I can tell you now that when he does, he won't like it.
    Okay, I'll get it to him tomorrow, then. Bill, was Warren telling me the truth when he said he has no idea what Evan has been doing since his college graduation?
    Stone, after what you've learned about that family the past few days, I can't tell you to believe anything Warren says, and if I were you, I'd be damn careful about believing anything Evan tells you, too. I did a little checking and found out what nursing home Warren's dad is in, and I'm having that looked into.
    Good. What's the old man's name?
    Elijah, like his ancestor; he's called Eli.
    Warren said, or maybe you said, that he hired a skip tracer, who found Evan in Miami?
    I hired him. Do you know Wally Millard?
    Sure, from Elaine's. Wally was a retired cop, now a private investigator.
    I gave it to him, and he got it done.
    I'll call Wally.
    Tell him I said it's okay to talk to you and to call me for confi rmation if he wants.
    Okay. Talk to you later. Stone hung up and called the Gardens and left a voice mail for Evan Keating. The contract will be here by noon tomorrow. Call me in the morning, and I'll buy you lunch.
    Stone looked up Wally Millard's number in his address book and called him.
    Hey, Stone.
    Hey, Wally. Bill Eggers asked me to call you about a skip trace you did for him.
    If I call Eggers, will he tell me that?
    Yes.
    I'll take your word for it. What do you want to know?
    It was a guy named Evan Keating. Apparently, you found him in Miami, but he skipped again.
    Jesus, I'm getting too old to go