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“That many?” Jackson said, sitting down.
“That many.”
“And all of them clean with the state?”
“All of them.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I guess they couldn’t fix the FBI records.”
“I guess not,” he said.
“I don’t know what to do, Jackson,” Holly said. “There’s something going on at Palmetto Gardens, but I just don’t have the resources to figure it out.”
“Maybe it’s time for the feds,” Jackson said.
“Maybe so, but I’d like to feel them out informally, if I can.”
“Like I told you, I know an agent in the Miami office; he’s in the organized crime division.”
“Let’s talk to him.”
Jackson dug an address book from his pocket, look
ed up his friend, and looked at his watch. “He’s probably on the way home from work. I’ve got a cell-phone number.” He dialed it. “Harry? It’s Jackson Oxenhandler. Yeah, pretty good, how about you? Listen, Harry, can you call me right back from a land line? Yeah, here’s the number.” Jackson gave it to him and hung up.
“What’s his name?” Holly asked.
“Harry Crisp. He’ll call us back soon. If you’re worried about bugging, I thought a land line would be better.”
“What are you…” The phone interrupted her.
Jackson picked it up. “Thanks, Harry. Listen, I’m in Orchid Beach with the local chief of police, a lady named Holly Barker. She’s stumbled onto something extraordinary that I think you ought to know about, and I don’t think we should talk about it on the phone. Could she and I come to Miami to see you? Where? What are you doing there? Well, great. Yeah, I’m buying, and I’ll put you up for the night. You got a pencil? I’ll give you directions.” He dictated directions from A1A. “See you later.” Jackson hung up. “He was at a filing in Fort Pierce, less than an hour away. He’s coming up here for dinner.”
“Great,” Holly said.
“I’ll make some spaghetti,” Ham said, and headed for the kitchen.
Jackson looked at Holly. “What’s the matter? You look worried.”
“I just hope I’m not making an ass of myself,” Holly said.
CHAPTER
40
H arry Crisp looked less like an FBI agent than Holly had imagined. He was fairly tall and skinny, and wore horn-rimmed glasses. She thought he looked more like a bank loan officer than a lawman. He shook everybody’s hand and sat down to dinner, declining wine.
“So what’s up, Jackson?” he asked, twirling spaghetti on his fork. “What’s so mysterious we needed a land line?”
“We’re just being careful, Harry,” Jackson said. “Holly is beginning to worry that there might be bugs at both our houses, and…well, maybe we’re just paranoid.”
“Paranoid about what?”
“Holly, you tell him.”
Holly put down her fork. “Orchid Beach has a lot of upscale residential developments—houses, tennis courts, golf courses, polo, the works.”
