A Dangerous Harbor (20 page)

He slid to the floor, his head hanging down. Then he looked up at Katy. "I w—w-w—wasn't h—hurting her. Ask her. I s—saved her life."

Katy looked at
Myne
for confirmation of his story, but
Myne
was swaying on her feet. Catching the girl before she dropped, Katy gently set her down on her bed and turned back to Wally. "You stay put." Then to
Myne
, "What's going on? Did he tie you up? Force himself on you?"

Myne
, grabbed a discarded silk top off the bed and slipped it over her head. "I don't know what happened. I was asleep."

Two glasses were on the bedside table and an empty bottle of Booth's favorite,
Chivas
Regal, next to it. "But you finished a bottle with him?"

"Not him. I was asleep and next thing I know someone is tying my hands together. I fought back and pushed '
em
off me, then heard yelling and a scuffling, an' the lights went on and there
he
was."

Katy turned to Wally. "Did you see who it was?"

He shook his head, the comb-over now hanging in his eyes. "Too d—d—dark.
 
He Ran. T—t—tell her,
Myne
."

Myne
tearfully rubbed her bruised wrists. "I'm grateful an' all, Wally, but it don't mean I want you to leave your
wife
!"

Katy looked from one to the other. "No ideas at all?"

They both did another head shake, not looking her in the eyes.

"It's a long way from your boat slip to here, Wally. You didn't see someone come aboard before you?"

Wally did another head shake, probably not willing to offer any explanation that involved more stuttering.

"Okay, then. In the struggle, you must've gotten an idea.
 
Big, tall, short, fat, thin, young, old, alcohol on his breath, or food or mints, bad breath? Did he say anything?"

"He was s—s—slippery."

"Sweaty?" Could the
perp
have been a repeat performance on some rough sex with Spencer's little plaything?

She turned to
Myne
. "I think you knew this guy."

"No! I swear."
Myne
turned on Wally. "I locked the salon door like I do every night. Jeff went out with his friends tonight, and I hate being alone on this big
ol
' boat… I locked it, I'm sure I did."

Myne
jerked up off the bed, fists clenched at her sides. "
He's
got keys. You! You attacked me in the dark, tied me up and then made like you was
savin
' me so I'd be grateful, you nasty, pathetic
ol
' letch!"

Wally gulped and turning from
Myne
held up his hands in surrender. "I d—d—didn't didn't do it,
Myne
, you have to b—b—believe me."

There was no culpability on Wally's sad face, only the hunger for what would never be his. But if he wasn't guilty of attacking
Myne
there was still something else.

"You have the keys, Wally?"

He reluctantly drew them out of his pocket and handed them over to Katy.

She fingered the keys and said, "If you didn't attack
Myne
, were you responsible for killing the girl and framing Spencer Bobbitt?" She looked from Wally to
Myne
, who was now clad in a pale pink silk camisole and matching
shorties
.

He kept moving his head back and forth, shaking it as if the thought was too dangerous to consider.

Myne
shot up off the bed. "That's it! Spencer always said Wally was his little mini-me, wanting what isn't his. And I reckon he had a
hankerin
' for me, too. Well you can't
have
me," she said, waggling a finger in his face. "I'm not up for grabs jus'
a'cause
Spencer's not here."

Wally ignored
Myne's
outburst and got off his knees. He reached out to her but when she flinched away he dropped his hand, his voice a low whisper. "
Myne
, you have to come with me. Spencer's not g—g—going to be able t—to take care of you."

She blinked, looking at first one and then the other. "I don't understand…."

"What Wally is trying to say," explained Katy, "is that Spencer may still be charged with murder."

Myne
flopped down on the bed again, stunned at the news. "Well, that sucks."

"You see?" Wally enthused. "I'm your b—b—best bet,
Myne
. S—S—Spencer can't help you now, but I c—c—can."

Myne
looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. "I wouldn't go with you if you were the last
ol
' goat on the planet. Go on home, Wally," she said, waving him off. When he hesitated, she shouted, "What're you deaf as well as dumb? Go on,
git
!"

Wally hung his head in defeat and shuffled out of the room.

Katy wasn't sure if she was right about him being the killer, but if nothing else, he wasn't going anywhere, either.

Katy sat down next to
Myne
and watched her listlessly comb the blond curls away from her face. "How long were you there, watching?"

It was the way she said it that caught Katy's attention. Was it because Wally was watching her have some kinky sex with someone else and when it got too rough he stepped in?

"Who else was here?" Katy asked, nodding at the empty
Chivas
bottle and the two glasses.

Myne
ignored the question and leaned into Katy, brushing her heavy breasts against Katy's arm. "I could be good to you."

Katy stiffened. Then remembered what she knew about desperate people and what they might do to get what they needed or wanted when their backs were against a wall. And
Myne
probably still thought Katy, as a San Francisco policewoman, was also a lesbian.

Katy reached out and took
Myne's
hand in hers and patted it in a reassuring manner. "Sorry, but no. Now, will you tell me who was with you?"

Myne
pulled away and shrugged. "Nobody who can do me any good, that's for sure."

Katy was tired of
Myne's
willingness to cover for someone who, as
Myne
said, wasn't going to do her any good, when her own life was crumbling around her. She stood and headed for the door. Pausing, she turned to look one last time at the tiny blond sitting forlornly on the rumpled bed in the pink and frilly room that only a twelve-year-old would love.

"Good night then," Katy said, and quietly closed the door behind her.

The next morning, she decided her bad mood might be fixed with a meal out. She should go to town for lunch. Better yet, invite
Myne
to go with her, have that talk they never finished last night.

She found
Myne
tucked in the shade at the yacht, reading a book. She barely let Katy get the invitation out of her mouth before she bounded up off the chaise lounge. "That's a great idea. I'm
dyin
' to go out. Let me put on some clothes and I'll be right back."

Wrapping a towel around her bikinied bottom she scampered for the stairs and disappeared. She was back in minutes, wearing a low-cut hot pink sundress, gold bangles on her wrists. She held out her wrist for Katy to inspect.
 
"They're just like the ones your sister, Leila
Standiford
, wears, '
cept
I can only afford the gold over silver version, but they look good, don't they?"

"They look great to me," Katy said, admiring the bangles.

"This is just the way she wears them, too," she said, stroking the bangles. "I checked online. Two gold, then two enamel and gold, then two more gold. I'll bet hers cost a fortune, huh?"

Katy laughed. "I wouldn't know, but if you want, I'll ask the next time I see her."

Myne
dimpled, now happy that she was rubbing elbows with a famous TV soap star's sister.

In the taxi, Katy directed the driver to stop at the fish market.

"Oh," said
Myne
. "I thought we were going someplace nice."

"You don't want to discount Ensenada's fish tacos. They're the best I've ever had and they have seating for customers."

Myne
shrugged, got out and reluctantly followed Katy, passing Indian women and children selling trinkets. The children, dwarfed in castoff clothing, held up Styrofoam cups and cheerfully begged, "
Dinero
?"

Myne
started to dig into her purse for money.

"Wait," Katy said, taking two McDonald's coupons out of her own purse. "It kills me that kids have to beg, but this way I know they will get to eat."

She gave a handful of coupons to
Myne
, who bent down and put a couple in each of the kids' cups. The children stared into the cups and then fished out the coupons and handed them over to a woman with a nursing baby. The woman showed her disdain for the coupons by theatrically ripping them into shreds, tossing the now useless paper into the air like so much confetti. Lesson learned, the children scurried back to the streets to make up for their error.

Myne
looked to be about to charge over and give the mother a piece of her mind. "So why
ain't
these kids in school?"

Katy took
Myne
by the arm and pulled her away. "The government pays for the classrooms and books, but uniforms, shoes and transportation have to be paid by the parents. The Indians just don't have the money."

Myne
gave a disgusted snort. "I may have grown up dirt poor, but you wouldn't see my mother making me go out and beg on the streets."

"Where did you grow up?" Katy asked, dodging another unmarked pothole in the sidewalk.

"Here and there."

"Are your parents still alive?"

"My mom is, don't know about my daddy," she said, and then pointed at another pothole for Katy to avoid.

"Siblings?"

"One
pissant
trouble-maker—and that's all I'm saying about that."

Katy, distracted by her search for the right taco stall, let
Myne's
comment pass.

A hefty Mexican woman in housedress and apron sealed the deal with a gold-capped smile, and loudly welcomed the two Americans into her open front café
.

Myne
squinted at the woman and then at Katy. "What's she
yellin
' at us for?"

"Actually, she's bragging to her neighbors that she's got American customers with American dollars and they don't. This is Ensenada's answer to McDonald's and let me tell you, it's just as fattening. Do you want fish or shrimp? Coke or orange soda?"

"Fish and I'd kill for an orange soda. Reminds me of home."

Katy held up four fingers to the cook standing ready over a boiling pot of hot grease.
"
Cuatro tacos de pescados y dos sodas de naranja, por favor
."

Katy showed
Myne
how to load up the taco from the relish dishes: cilantro, radish, onion, salsa and fresh heavy cream.