Page 30 of Paranoia

I said, “Except school. I don’t want you guys using any of those artificial intelligence programs either.”

Eddie snapped his fingers and said, “We didn’t even think of that. Thanks.”

I just shook my head. I know it’s a stereotype, but having four boys and six girls has taught me that boys never prepare ahead of time. This little stunt didn’t even throw me for a loop. I remembered having to help Brian years ago with a report on Benjamin Franklin because it was due later that same day. Jane, on the other hand, would always prioritize her homework, ever forgoing fun activities in order to complete a project as soon as it was assigned.

I heard the sound of Mary Catherine stirring, so I stepped into our bedroom. I had made up my mind about something I needed to tell her. I sat down next to the sleeping lump that was my daughter Chrissy. She didn’t stir at all.

I said to Mary Catherine, “I really need to go to Florida on a case. I think I can do it all in one day. But I want to make sure it’s okay with you.”

“Of course. I have all the help I could need here. But that day trip sounds taxing.”

“Not as taxing as being away from you guys.”

“When do you plan to go?”

“I’m going to look for a ticket right now. I’d like to go tomorrow morning.”

Mary Catherine patted my arm.

I threw in, “And I’m paying for it out of my own pocket.” She didn’t even ask me to explain. She trusted me and my judgment. That is the best kind of life partner.

CHAPTER 45

I BOOKED AN early Thursday morning JetBlue flight out of LaGuardia and tried to make use of my three-hour travel time to Fort Lauderdale. Flying out before the sun rose had been a little on the stressful side. But now I was safely tucked into a middle seat, between an older man in the window seat, who fell fast asleep as soon as the jet took off, and a woman on the aisle loaded down with bags of tchotchkes she’d clearly collected during a tourist trip to the Big Apple.

I discouraged any conversation by gluing my eyes to my iPad and reviewing the many files Walter Jackson had sent me. Most of the documents contained information I knew already. Some of them were just background. All of them revolved around Richard Deason.

Say what you want about Deason, he created an effective organization. I have always wondered what would happen if guys like him decided to work for the government instead. If it hadn’tbeen for the Land Sharks, Deason and his gang might’ve still been operating in the Bronx.

Reading the old narcotics reports was like stepping back in time. The Sharks had been in three different shoot-outs with Deason’s people. I remembered one of them at a Midtown bar. It was an undercover operation that had gone wrong. Two of Deason’s goons shot the place up in an effort to cover their escape. Celeste Cantor herself had been one of the cops to stand her ground and save a lot of lives.

There were also two instances in which witnesses against Deason and his people had been murdered. One of them was a US Customs case—one of Deason’s people had been caught trying to bring a kilo of heroin in through the port system. The guy agreed to cooperate and three days later was found dead in his cell from a knife wound. Another inmate was charged with the crime but never admitted to anything.

It turned out that the man who committed the murder in the federal holding cell had owed Deason a ton of money. The theory was that Deason forgave the debt and set up the man’s family for life while also sending a message to others who thought about cooperating with the government against Richard Deason.

Walter Jackson had also sent along everything he could find on Richard Deason’s son, Antonio. It wasn’t much. He’d found Antonio Deason’s signature on some kind of form from Con Edison, then traced it back to an apartment owned by a holding company. It looked like Antonio was living in SoHo. It also looked like he had made a mistake by signing the ConEd form. But that’s where Walter’s information ended.

Using some contacts, I was able to get ahold of a Florida Department of Law Enforcement special agent who was aware ofthe explosion that had killed Ralph Stein and Gary Halverson. FDLE generally didn’t get involved in cases like this. They were supposed to go after criminal organizations and public corruption. Luckily, I had reached someone willing not only to help but also to meet me at the airport.

It was midmorning when we landed. I hadn’t even had a chance to dig my phone out of my pocket after disembarking when a tall woman with short brown hair stepped in front of me and said, “Michael Bennett?”

I nodded.

She stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Carol Frederick. I’m with FDLE. I’ve got a lot to do today so let’s get a move on.” She turned and started walking quickly.

I liked her. A lot.

CHAPTER 46

FDLE SPECIAL AGENT Carol Frederick drove us down to the town of Hollywood to take the causeway over to Hollywood Beach. She drove like a New Yorker, cutting in and out of traffic with just a quick wave or an occasional middle finger.

To make conversation, I said, “I was curious to come down here and see some of the infamous ‘Florida Man’ activities. Anything weird or unusual would be fine with me. An alligator thrown through a Wendy’s drive-through or a man who uses a python for autoerotic stimulation.”

Frederick gave me a mercy laugh. Then she said, “The only problem with all those Florida Man stories is the media never mentions that the dumbass doing something stupid is almost always originally from somewhere else. There is a reasonJersey Shorewas filmed in Jersey.”

I laughed too. “It’s true. I guess we definitely have our share ofmorons in the greater New York and New Jersey area. And it’s no secret that tons of New Yorkers move to Florida. I’ll keep that in mind next time I read a story about something crazy going on in Florida—whatever it was might’ve been caused by one of our own.” That seemed to satisfy her.

As she drove, Special Agent Frederick said, “After we spoke, I did a little research into you. Why’s a big-deal homicide detective like you coming down to look at a double suicide?”

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