Shadow Investigation by Christopher Amato

Author:Christopher Amato [Amato, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sam motored east along West Gandy Boulevard, crossing over Old Tampa Bay, then cruising into the city, five miles north of MacDill Air Force Base. It was six thirty, perhaps his best and only opportunity to grab something to eat.

He ate in a hurry, eager to speak to Bill and find Beth. When he was done, he threw the Burger King bag into a trash can but kept the cup filled with ice. He walked straight to the pay phone, and while he waited for an answer, he pinched at his belly, thinking of the need to get back to the gym.

“Bill Dunkirk speaking.”

“Hey, Bill. It’s me.”

“Sam, get your pen and paper ready because the stars are beginning to align for you. Your Beth, aka Elizabeth Evans, lives in Tampa in a rental house; the owner info is inconsequential, but the good part is the telephone is in her name, but someone else named Ramón Monzon pays the electricity and water bills. You want to guess what nickname they sometimes use in place of Ramón?”

“That sounds fun, Bill, and under normal circumstances, I would love to play twenty questions with you, but—”

“Never mind,” Bill said. “How about Moncho?”

“Moncho sounds a lot like Mondo.”

“Especially to an English speaker, so it’s possible Elizabeth Evans is doing the horizontal mambo with Ramón Monzon, aka Moncho.”

“Damn, Bill. You’re good.”

“Sam, listen to me. I mean it. There’s a heavy hitter cocaine family in Mexico and the boss’s last name is Monzon. I’ll keep checking, but remember, I told you to talk to your buddies in Tampa about their ongoing case. I’m betting they’re related,” Bill said. “Now there’s more; Ramón Monzon is the registered owner of a 1986 Ocean Yachts Sunliner.”

“That boat model and year fits with what I was told yesterday,” Sam said.

“These Sunliners are nice boats. We’re talking forty-six-footer with all the bells and whistles, and not many people can afford these bad boys.”

“This Melanie lady said they’re into boats.”

“Ms. Melanie was right; now listen, Moncho registered this beauty to the same address where he pays the utilities for the girlfriend, but I promise you won’t see this sitting in their front yard.”

“Even I could have guessed that.”

“I also have photos of Beth and Ramón aka Moncho. I’m sure I’m not the first to notice, but she’s quite a looker. Anyway, you have fun while I do more research on your new friends. In the meantime, let me give you her address so you can swing by the place.”

. . .

He passed by the rental house, sitting one block off the water in the Ballast Point neighborhood, and parked a hundred feet away. It was time to sit and watch again—another day in the exciting life of a DEA agent.

He scanned the road in front and behind him. Overall, the neighborhood was appealing, except for Beth’s house. He’d seen this kind of place before, the house with the untended yard, the faded paint, a loose shutter, the orphaned trash can at the curb, one car in the drive and two in the yard.

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