Page 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 reason Jersey Shore was filmed in Jersey.”

I laughed too. “It’s true. I guess we definitely have our share of morons 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?”

“It could be part of a bigger case.” The fact that she’d researched who I was told me she was pretty sharp. I decided to turn things around on her. “I’ve got a question for you.”

She smiled like it was a game. “Ask away.”

“Why’s a big-deal special agent with the chief law enforcement agency for Florida looking at a double suicide?”

“Touché. I deserved that.”

She smiled again. She had one of those smiles that could disarm you just before she eviscerated you. I could tell she knew what she was doing, and she appreciated challenges.

Finally, she said, “I’m on the Joint Terrorism Task Force. We look at any kind of explosion or serious fire just in case it’s not what it seems. In this case, the Hollywood cops did a good job and examined all aspects of the incident. They even picked up a computer keyboard that had been blown out of the house. One of the men who died, Gary Halverson, had written a good-bye note to his niece. Apparently, he had advanced lung cancer. His fingerprints were still on the keyboard.”

We headed south on state road A1A into Hollywood Beach. Traffic was lighter. I focused on the surroundings. Everything here was greener and brighter and warmer than New York.

After a couple of quick turns, we came up to the shell of a small house. Not only were the windows and doors blown out; the heat from the fire had even melted the plastic siding, making the house look like something out of a horror movie.

Special Agent Frederick and I exited her car and walked around examining the house. I didn’t really know what I was looking for. Maybe I just needed to tell myself I had gone to the scene in person and done everything I could.

I shook my head and said, “Who uses propane tanks to commit suicide?”

“It happened up in Palm Beach County.”

“I know. I read the story online about the deputy US marshal who used propane tanks to commit suicide. But it seems like an outlier.”

Frederick shrugged. “Everything is an outlier until it’s not. Maybe this is a new trend. If you have any doubts about the suicide or any information, I’m all ears.”

It was refreshing to see someone with such an open mind. There was no pretext. She was interested in getting things right. I wished I saw more of that from government employees.

I eased off the topic by saying, “I guess I’ve never seen it in New York because not many people have propane-powered barbecue grills.”

“Well, you can’t blame Florida Man when this was done by two retired cops from New York.”

She had a point. I smiled and said, “Touché.”