Chapter 3: Rendezvous in the Ragged Keys

January 1999

After I had given up in frustration, and had left to return to the news department, I received a call on my cell phone from Lou.

“Malcolm, I need to talk with you off the record. Can you meet with me later this afternoon?”

“Yes, I suppose so. Where do you want to meet?” My connection with my cell phone was poor and it was hard to hear over traffic.

“We must meet in a secure place. Come to my condo over in Coral Gables. Do you remember how to get to my place?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s at the East end of one hundred fifty second street, isn’t it? Near the Yacht club?”

“You have a good memory, my friend. See you about one o’clock, ok?”

“You got it, Lou. One o’clock it is. Is everything ok?”

He had already hung up. I sensed the role of consultant slipping over me. However, I was just as eager to pick his brains, as he was mine. Lou’s idea of a secure place was different from anything I expected. I went back to the station to write the report about the crime scene and view the tape Kevin had recorded. I handed my copy to the editor and went back out.

First, I stopped off at Fritanga’s, a restaurant of Nicaraguan cuisine. My wife, Rachel was to meet me there for lunch. Rachel absolutely adored Latin food. She could never make it authentically, so we ate out a lot at the many Latin restaurants in Miami.

“So, what is this about a crime scene you covered today,” she asked while making her choices from the food behind the glass counter.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. There are a lot of sick people in the world. Today, I found where another one of them lives, not too far from here. This creep lives North of Kendall. Seems like another cult but I think we are on to these people. Not much else to tell, sweetie. Why do you always get that?” I asked, pointing to the ox tails piled on her plate. I could not stand ox tails. I preferred the shredded beef myself.

“Because they are good, and you should try them. Learn to try new things, dear. It will broaden your horizons.”

“My horizons are getting broad enough as it is,” I said, pointing to my more than obvious “love handles” on my sides. She giggled.

She could afford to overeat. She was a perfect size six, with dark hair, and eyes. For a woman in her forties, she could turn the heads of most men. To this day, I still wondered what she ever saw in me. She had overcome many obstacles just to be with me. I used to think that marrying me was her way of rebelling against her parent’s wishes. They were dead set against me as a son-in-law, but fate prevailed, and we are happily married with a set of twins, Jennifer and Jonathan.

After lunch was finished, Rachel and I said our goodbyes. She wanted to be at home when the children arrived from school. I told her I had an appointment and would be home before dark. It was January, so darkness came earlier than usual.

I arrived at Lou’s condominium parking lot and found him waiting for me. Lou had a boat, with twin outboard Mercury engines, moored at a marina close to the condo he owned.

“Amigo, I am glad you could make it on time. Come with me to the boat. Now!”

I got out of the car and followed him down to the marina. As we walked, Lou asked me not to say anything until he told me it was okay to speak. Instead of asking questions as to why, I just followed his instructions.

After we went to the boat, he turned around and I followed him back to his condominium. You could see his home from the marina. I was sure that Lou had a good reason for his quest for security.

We went into Lou’s place, and he motioned for me to change into just swim trunks, and a T-shirt, with flip-flops. I was not to bring a wallet, watch, or anything brought into the house by me. My curiosity exploded when I saw a camcorder set up on a tripod, trained on the moored boat, in the living room window overlooking the marina. Lou took the tape, rewound it, and played it back at fast play to assure that no one had followed him to the boat, or back from it. There was no sign of suspicious or conspicuous characters. Still working in complete silence, Lou placed the tape back in the camcorder, and began recording again. We left his home, still in complete silence, with me in a different set of clothes. We boarded the boat inconspicuously. Lou cranked up the twin Mercury engines, and with my help, we departed the marina.

I had not been in a boat in quite a while. It was quite balmy for a January day and it felt good to smell the salty air of the sea. We headed out to the open sea then turned south down the coast toward the Keys. After about 15 minutes, we came upon a small island with a nice but tiny beach. It was one of the Ragged Keys, an almost barren sand bar in the Key Biscayne Park. Lou must have been here before, as he brought his craft so close to the shore. We dropped anchor and waded ashore. After we got on the beach, Lou headed for the small amount of shade available. Still, no one had uttered a word.

Lou sat on the large piece of driftwood, his head in his hands. I sat down in the sand a few yards in front of him. Something had him shaken therefore I remained quiet, because I knew that what he was about to tell me was something of great importance. I could not have prepared for it.

Lou reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He drew out his lighter and offered me one; only he knew I did not smoke. Still, he offered one just to be polite. He took a long drag, exhaling the smoke from his lungs. Then he started to talk.

“Everything I am about to tell you could get me killed. I wish I didn’t know you, but we go back a long way. You never misquoted the department or me. Everything that was off the record, stayed off the record! It is hard to find a guy like you in your business that can be trusted by a cop.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, Lou, and you can still trust me. I know we didn’t come to this little corner of Key Biscayne just to express your confidence of my integrity to me. Tell me what is going on.”

“There is another case of this kind very similar to this morning’s crime scene, and I am worried that this is only the tip of the iceberg.” In a plastic bag, he had some pictures with him along with a file folder. The evidence collected from this other case indicated Lou had found what he thought was a cult of voodoo worshippers.

“Look at these pictures and tell me what you think. These are pictures of an altar; just like the one we saw this morning. They killed and mutilated animals in the same MO as the one we had covered this day! The only differences were the address and the name of the perp!”

I studied the pictures and shook my head. “Well, this could indeed be the work of a priest or priestess of an Afro-Cuban religion commonly known as Santeria.” I continued to give him more information regarding some of their beliefs, and doctrines. “Oh, yes, my friend, that was what I thought as well. I am familiar with the ways of Santeria.”

“As a Baptist, I think it is a bad, twisted, distorted mix of evil, lies, spells, and sacrificial rites that spell out fear for all those who involves themselves with this doctrine of paganism.” At least Lou knew he was dealing with a real cult of black magic.

“I feel someone is watching my every move, especially when it comes to this investigation. That was my reason for security cameras. I have noticed people standing in conspicuous places for no apparent reason, cars that would follow me all the way from the station to my condo. At first, I believed them to be some small-time hoods looking for revenge from some arrest made a long time ago. One night, someone ransacked my place but took nothing. They were looking for something. I am not sure if they had found what they were looking for or not.”

Lou was divorced, but his ex-wife and children still lived in south Florida. He was reluctant to send them out of the state for their own safety, but he asked me if I thought they could be in danger.

“Most cults, whether black magic or recognized and accepted cult groups tend to go the extra mile to protect their influence over the members and ensure absolute loyalty to the doctrine laid down by the group’s leaders. Sometimes, they use threats of casting members out, casting them down in position or ostracizing by other members. They may use peer pressure for a member to perform a deed, which will ensure his acceptance as a full-fledged member. The use of fear toward cult members is well known. The cult may threaten a member with a questionable loyalty that wants out of the group with harm or threaten his family. Loyalty issues are commonly resolved in such a way. We know very well of their use of threats of physical harm, intimidation, assassination, and kidnapping towards non-members. So, do I think someone is trying to scare you? Yeah, I do. I think it is working.” Then Lou dropped the bombshell.