Florida Heat

Florida Heat

  By

  Rainy Kirkland

  writing with

  Robyn Maize

  Copyright 2011, Rainy Kirkland

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously except for the two listed below. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  This book is a work of fiction with the exception of Sunshine's Auto, which actually does exist in Leesburg and is owned and operated by Brian who is indeed a most awesome mechanic.

  The second exception is AL’S Landing – An eclectic waterfront restaurant in Tavares, which is our favorite place to meet.

  Copyright 2012 by Rainy Kirkland and Robyn Maize

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  RKPublishing June 2012

  Angelina Bruno – Senior Editor (email: [email protected])

  Calista Taylor – Cover Artist:https://coversbycali.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedications

  August

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Booklist

  Dedications

  Rainy -

  To Linda and Roger Lark

  For friendship that stands the test of time

  Robyn -

  To my sister Mary Jo, my brothers Bob, Tony, and Joe

  And in memory of our parents Tony and Mary

  Without their influence this would not have happened

  Florida Heat

  August

  August was murder in Florida. Mercury climbed into the high nineties and set up housekeeping spreading a soggy blanket of heat and humidity that made the air foul and tempers short. At number 17 Crescent Road, the weeds outgrew the scant landscaping that bordered the front door of the faded stucco bungalow. No one noticed. No one cared.

  The window air conditioner wheezed as Danny Witmore straddled his weight bench and swore at the sweat that dripped into his eyes. Slowly he curled a 50 lb. weight with his right arm… thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty- three. Keeping his movements slow and steady he struggled to make the mind-muscle connection. Today it wasn’t working; he couldn’t concentrate in all this heat. He stood and stretched, then gave the air conditioner a frustrated whack with the side of his hand.

  Tap–tap-tap.“Aggie, get the door.” Danny brushed his sandy colored hair from his forehead. Standing before the wall mirror he flexed his muscles. He loved seeing how his biceps bulged. Danny shifted and, grasped his left wrist with his right hand, tightened his muscles. He studied his reflection critically, pleased there was more definition now. Maybe he’d get another tattoo he thought. Reaching for his favorite Muscle Man Magazine he stared at the bikini clad babe that graced the cover. This is what I need he thought, but his wistful smile vanished as he noticed the dried spaghetti sauce that smeared the top cover of the magazine making the first few pages stick together. Damn it to hell! His eyes raked the room searching for a target for his anger. Dinner dishes from the night before still littered the table with yesterday’s mail and the bitch hadn’t picked up a thing. He kicked a basket of clothes spilling the contents over the floor. This place was a pigsty. Gingerly he tried to pry the magazine pages apart, searching for the article on stacking. If he could just come up with enough money….

  The rap at the door became more forceful and Danny felt his irritation rise with the heat.

  “Aggie, get the damn door.” He dropped the magazine on the floor and settled back onto the weight bench. It was definitely time to move on. He’d get himself a babe this time, someone who knew how to clean a goddamned house, someone who’d look good on his arm. But to move on, he needed cash. Danny smiled as he picked up the weight. He had a few irons in the fire. If Aggie hadn’t gone ballistic and brought the cops down on their heads he wouldn’t have had to put things on hold. He’d be sitting pretty right now, not stuck in this hellhole with an air conditioner that wasn’t worth spit. The bitch was going to pay for that one, too, he thought darkly, eyeing the cluttered room. It was time he reminded her just who was in charge here.

  The rapping at the door turned to banging and Danny swore. He stood and set the weight on the table making the dishes clatter on the Formica tabletop. Where was that stupid woman? He wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his favorite tee which read, If I’m riding alone – the Bitch fell off! then walked across the papers that spilled out of a book-bag tossed carelessly against the wall. No wonder the kid could never find anything. Christian was a slob just like Aggie, lurking around watching, never doing what he was told to do. What a mistake that was-- two weeks into the school year and the kid was already in trouble. And now, because of him, they had the damn teacher on their backs, too. Yeah, he thought, flexing his fingers, he was going to have to teach a few lessons before this day was over.

  Danny yanked open the door then stepped back in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “The hell we do. I told you before I’m not interested.” He turned, walked back into the living room and picked up the weight again.

  “And I told you it’s important that we talk and talk now.”

  Danny looked up, stunned to see that his visitor had the gall to follow him. “What the . . . get the fuck out of my house.”

  “This is too important for you to walk away from.”

  Incensed that anyone would dare talk back to him, his anger snapped. “The hell it is.” Rising from the bench with the weight in his hand, Danny took a menacing step forward. “Now get the fuck out of my house and off my property.”

  “You’re going to regret this,” the voice said flatly. “You’re going to regret this very much.”

  “Yeah, right,” he sneered, turning back to the bench. “And this time I’ll be the one calling the cops.” When he heard the click of the front door he rolled his eyes. What a jerk. Danny tried to settle his mind and focus. That’s what the article had said: focus on the target muscle. But he just couldn’t find his pace with all these damn interruptions. Snagging a towel from the floor he wiped his face. Where the fuck was Aggie? How was he gonna get his routine done if she wasn’t home to answer the goddamn door?

  Reaching for the sports drink on the table he scowled at the label. Damn her, she was so frigging stupid that she couldn’t even remember the brand he liked. He unscrewed the cap and took a deep gulp. It was definitely time to move on. Between the teachers harping about Christian and that damn probation officer lurking over his shoulder; yeah he’d make some calls and start things moving again. To hell with them all. Aggie could just deal with the consequences ‘cause he’d be long gone. He grinned at the thought of her trying to stammer out excuses. He took another deep drink then grimaced. He was never using this brand again. It was just too damn sweet. Danny took a closer look at the label. Replenish – was that why she picked this? Did she think he needed to be replenished? He gulped down the remains of the bottle and set
it back on the table. I’ll replenish her when she gets home. He smiled with the thought. And next time she’ll remember to get the right brand. When his stomach muscles clenched Danny doubled in agony. He never made it out of the room.

  Chapter One

  Domestic violence manifests itself in many forms. Physical abuse might be the most obvious, but emotional abuse often creates more damage. After almost a decade on the job, human behavior no longer surprised her, but for Probation Officer Jo Cazimer, it still continued to intrigue. This morning, however, she was hitting a brick wall.

  A victim and perpetrator of domestic abuse, Agatha Witmore was a prime example of a battered wife: hunched shoulders and eyes that rarely left the clenched hands in her lap. The woman was doing everything she was required to do, but Jo knew none of it was sinking in.

  “Aggie, did you hear me?”

  Aggie jerked and looked up. “Sorry….”

  “I asked how the Batterer Intervention Classes are going.”

  “Okay, but I still don’t see why we have to go to them,” she muttered.

  “Aggie, we’ve been through this before. You smashed a wine bottle over Danny’s head and sent him to the hospital for stitches. I know,” Jo held up a hand to stop Aggies’s protest, “you only did it to protect yourself. Aggie, Danny isn’t going to change. You don’t have to stay with him.”

  “He’s my husband.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes grew fearful. “The vow said till death do us part.”

  “That doesn’t give him the right to beat up on you.”

  “Danny’s a good man. He just gets a little riled up sometimes but he’s always real sorry after. And he’s a good provider for Christian and me.”

  Deciding she wasn't getting anywhere, Jo changed tactics. “And how is Christian doing in school this year?” She watched Aggie’s agitation increase and thought bingo I’ve hit a nerve.

  “He’s doing fine.” Aggie looked up at the clock again. “Can I go now? There’s no school today and Christian’s got a doctor’s appointment. I’m gonna be late.”

  Jo reached for her pen. “Sure, who is the doctor? Is Christian sick?”

  Clearly wanting the appointment to be over, Aggie stood. “You want to know who the doctor is?”

  “Yes, who is the doctor?”

  “Actually, ah, it’s the free clinic.” Aggie stammered. “The school, ummm, said he didn’t have all his shots. And if we don’t get there soon, we’ll be waiting all day.”

  “Okay,” Jo made a note on the file. “And who is Christian’s teacher this year?”

  Aggie took a step toward the door. “You want to know who his teacher is?”

  “Is there a reason you don’t want me to know? Is there a problem in school?”

  “Christian is doing just fine. His teacher is Ms. Johnson and she’s a bitc…she’s a bit tough that’s all. But Christian is doing fine.”

  Jo looked at the clock. She knew how long the lines could be at the free clinic and if Aggie was truly going there…, “Okay I want you to stop in tomorrow and bring me a copy of the health records.”

  “What?”

  “When you go to the clinic they’ll give you the documentation you need for the school. Ask for two copies and bring one to me for your file.”

  “You want a copy, too?” Aggie hesitated in the doorway.

  “Don’t worry, the clinic won’t mind making you two copies. They do it all the time. I mean, that is where you’re going right?”

  “Ah, yeah, right. I’ll bring you a copy. Next time I come.”

  “No, not next time, tomorrow.”

  “But my appointment with you isn’t until next month. Can’t I just wait and bring it then?”

  “You want to leave early today so you can just take a minute tomorrow and drop that off for me.” And by then I’ll have talked to Ms. Johnson to find out what the real story is, Jo thought.

  “Okay, tomorrow,” her bravado gone, Aggie’s eyes were again focused on the floor. “Can I go now?”

  “Sure,” Jo said easily. “And good luck at the clinic. In fact, I’ll give them a call so they’ll know you’re coming. Maybe that will get you a little further up the line.” And we both know that if I do that and you don’t show, Jo thought, the clinic will call me this afternoon and let me know.

  She watched as Aggie slipped out the door. Jo took a deep breath and tried to set her frustration aside. Why couldn’t she get through to that woman? Maybe if she tried Aggie in one of her Empowerment group meetings…. If Aggie met with some of the women who had gotten themselves out of similar situations she’d feel as if it was possible for her, too. Jo’s pencil tapped an irritated rhythm on the file. If she could just break through, Aggie had a chance. Lord knew Danny was never going to change. The only way he’d stop being abusive was to end up in jail.

  Determined to dig a little deeper, Jo picked up the phone to call the clinic and then the teacher to find out what was going on at the school. Maybe she could use Christian as the lever to make some progress. She glanced at the clock. Then she was going to call Danny; he was late, again, and this was going to stop here and now.

  * * *

  Deep into docketing, Jo looked up to find her best friend, Detective Kate Snow, leaning on the door jam. Kate’s caramel skin and shiny black curls could have pegged her for a model until you looked at her eyes. Kate’s eyes were all cop and right now they were not happy. A quick glance at the clock told Jo she was late for their lunch meeting again.

  Kate held up her hand. “Don’t say a word. I know you’re swamped, and rather than call I decided to stop by since I had to be in the building anyway. I’ve only got a minute. Here,” she tossed half of a wrapped Italian sub in Jo’s direction. “I picked this up on my way in this morning. You might as well eat the rest. I don’t have time.”

  “I would have been there in a minute,” Jo said apologetically. “Just wanted to finish this Failure to Report. I’m initiating a Warrant for Danny.”

  “Are you talking about Danny Witmore?”

  “Yeah, I’m through with his non-compliance. He’s late when he does show up and today he didn’t come at all.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’re going to need that,” Kate stated dryly. “Danny Witmore is the reason I can’t do lunch. In fact, I’ve gotta scram.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Not Danny, he’s dead.”

  “What?” Jo blanched.

  “Looks like poison,” Kate said straightening her jacket to cover her gun. “We’ll know for sure when the M.E.’s report comes in but I’d make bank on it. You have any idea where the wife is?”

  “She said she was going to take their kid to the free clinic to get some shots for school.”

  “Let’s hope she’s there. Gotta run, catch you later.” Then Kate was gone.

  Jo sat back and felt a sickly premonition wash through her. Had Aggie finally had enough? Was that why she’d been so fidgety that morning? Jo replayed the entire appointment in her mind looking for signs that Aggie had been pushed to the edge but found none. She stared down at the Violation of Probation Report she’d all but finished. Well she didn’t have to worry about Danny beating on Aggie any more. But she couldn’t help but worry what was going to happen to Aggie when Kate found her.

  * * *

  Stretching, Jo eased out of her chair and rubbed her neck. Her reports complete, hallelujah, she was finally up to date with everything and not a moment too soon as the clock said three minutes to end of shift. The intercom buzzed and Cheryl, their receptionist piped through.

  “Jo, you still here?”

  “On my way out, Cheryl, what do you need?”

  “Well, you’re the Officer of the Day and I have Judge Miller on the phone.”

  Stifling a groan, Jo put her keys back on the desk. “Put her through.” Jo sat and pulled an intake folder from her desk drawer. “Yes, Your Honor. “

  The building was all but deserted by the time Jo finished processing t
he court order Judge Miller had sent over. What a day, she thought. She’d gotten an earful from Christian’s teacher and had an appointment for a follow-up. And Danny Witmore was dead. She glanced at the clock again. Kate still hadn’t called. Were they still looking for Aggie? Dear god, Jo thought, please don’t let her be the one that did this. That poor little boy isn’t going to make it if he loses both his parents.

  Taking a moment to put the top down, Jo climbed into her Miata, turned over the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The evening traffic had thinned but the heat of the day pressed down relentlessly. Glad to have what little wind there was tugging at her hair, Jo groaned as the battery warning light blinked on then off. Just get me home and I’ll deal with this tomorrow, she prayed. The battery warning light flashed once more before everything went silent and she had no power. Glad she was no longer on the freeway, Jo managed to steer the gliding car off the road and into the parking lot of the picnic playground. She tried turning the key but didn’t even get a click. Her precious car was completely dead. Digging in her purse for the phone that wasn’t there, Jo stifled a groan and pictured her phone still sitting in the docking station on her desk. Resisting the urge to bang her head against the steering wheel, she took stock of her surroundings.

  The park was quiet in the dusky evening. No children were climbing on the monkey bars or squealing as they sped down the slide. The ball field was empty and even the tennis courts had no players. Okay, she thought, it was just too damn hot to walk all the way home, but if she cut through the park, she reasoned climbing out of the car, she could save more than a mile. Deciding to stick to the jogging path, Jo wove her way past the first set of play equipment and into the wooded area. Here the temperature immediately dropped a noticeable degree or two. Jo slowed to a walk and enjoyed the forest scent. Then her nose wrinkled… something was off.

  * * *

  Jared Rodriguez perched on the edge of the picnic table, took a deep drag then offered the clip to his companion. He exhaled slowly letting the blue smoke drift lazily around his head. “Prime stuff,” he sighed. “Besides,” he chuckled as his companion swatted at a mosquito, “keeps the mosquitoes away.”