The Black Palmetto by Paul Carr Page B

enters the picture,” Ford said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “His only son was murdered. After he pitches a fit, they’ll be glad to lock you up.”
    “I don't think they can do that,” Sam said.
    The attorney did the cat smile again. “They can do anything they want. You're a stranger in town. You made an appointment to meet Jake. An hour later they found him dead. That will be simple logic for Morton Bell.”
    “You paint a pretty dismal picture of the local law.”
    Shrugging, the lawyer said, “Left to their own devices, they’ll never find this killer, but they will need someone to blame.”

Chapter Nine
    Chief Boozler returned to headquarters shortly before 5:00 p.m. and passed Lonnie's desk on his way to his own office.
    “I found out about the hearse, Chief.”
    “What hearse is that, Lonnie?”
    “You know, the one the gravediggers used to move the body. The state boys said a vehicle crashed through the rail of a bridge up above Key Largo, over Blackwater Sound. It might be the reason those two clowns never made it to Lauderdale with that body. And that isn't all. A bomb of some kind was used. Maybe military. They found pieces of metal and human tissue. But most of it probably fell into the water.”
    The chief stared for a moment. “Okay, good work, Lonnie. Get me the details on that bomb. There aren't many places to get a military bomb around The Keys.”
    “I can't imagine why anyone would want to blow up a hearse.”
    “What if someone wanted to destroy the body? You know that call to Howard Tim was a phony.”
    “But why would somebody want to destroy a corpse?” Lonnie asked, smiling.
    The chief rolled his eyes.
    “Use your head. Remember the guy who's coming from Tallahassee to examine the tattoo? Maybe somebody didn't want him to see it.”
    “You really think so? Oh, oh yeah. I get the picture now.”
    About time.
    “Get Dudley to help you, Lonnie. No need in you shouldering all the responsibility on this.”
    “That's okay. I can handle it. Dudley's got other things to do.”
    “Yeah, well, get him anyway. That's an order.” He stepped away, headed for his office, leaving Lonnie to pout at his desk.
    Before entering the door, he asked his secretary if the parole officer had called.
    “No calls. I’ve been at my desk since you left earlier.”
    Scratching his head, he said, “Huh, he's supposed to be here by five.”
    Shrugging, the secretary grabbed her purse and stood to leave. “Unless you have something else, Chief, I'm calling it a day.”
    “No, that's okay. I won't be here much longer, myself.”
    Back behind his desk he turned his concentration to a budget proposal the city manager had left there the day before.
    Morton Bell thundered in through his door. “What's wrong with you, Rich? Your brain going soft like these other idiots around here?”
    A hammer pounded behind the chief's eyes.
    “What's the problem, Mort?”
    “Why'd you let that murderer go? Jake is stone-cold dead, and that killer is running free to do whatever he pleases. I want you to arrest him, right now!”
    “Sorry Mort, I can't do that. I don't think he killed your son.”
    “Well, nobody around here would've done it, and he spoke with Jake no more than an hour before…” His mouth twisted out of shape and tears ran down his cheeks. He mopped them with the backs of his hands.
    “I know you're upset, and you have a right to be. But the prosecutor decided we don't have enough evidence to convict. We'd be wasting our time, while the real killer is still out there.”
    “Okay, fine. If you won't lock him up for me, let's see if you’ll do it for the mayor.”
    The older man stormed out and down the hall. Boozler didn't like the sound of that. He got along just fine with the mayor, but he also knew the man was defenseless when it came to Morton Bell.
    Bell had spread enough money around Iguana Key to get the mayor elected, and he had become the best puppet imaginable. Though Bell didn't call on him