Baja Florida (17 page)

A nap would have been nice, especially after the sleepless night before. I stretched out on the bed in my room. I stared at the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling, some kind of tongue-and-groove wood thing. Cedar maybe. I stared at it for fifteen minutes. Then I got up. Sleep can be way overrated.

I went downstairs and wound up in the kitchen. Boggy was still there. He sat at a table with Miss Rose.

Curtis stood at the sink, washing dishes. A young man stood beside him, drying the dishes that got washed. Edwin, the grandson, I assumed. He was tall and broad-shouldered and he was training his hair to grow into dreads. They had a long way to go. It made his head look like a picture of the sun drawn by a five-year-old.

An automatic dishwasher was built into the counter. Lots of good, sensible people prefer not to use them. Even the so-called silent diswashers make too much noise. The noise is a conversation killer. And kitchens are all about conversation. Which stopped when I entered this one.

Miss Rose got up from the table. She began putting dishes away in cupboards. Curtis and Edwin pretended I wasn't there.

Boggy looked at me.

“Go for a walk, Zachary?”

“Sure,” I said. “I need to make room for another one of Miss Rose's fine meals.”

Miss Rose smiled but didn't say anything.

We stepped out the kitchen door and set off down the rutted road, taking the fork that led to the dock. It was midday hot and what breeze there was disappeared as we descended. It was as if the foliage sucked up the breeze and spit it out as heat.

“So,” I said, “did you finish off that guava duff?”

“You think that is why I went into the kitchen, Zachary?”

“There some other reason?”

“Fact-finding mission.”

“Taino Super-Sleuth Tip Number One: You want to find out stuff, you talk to the hired help.”

“Ah so, Guamikeni.”

“Give it up, Boggy Chan.”

“The three of them, they are much devoted to Mickey Ryser. He is a good man and they love him.”

“And this information is valuable to us how?”

“They do not like the girl.”

“She's been here what, a day? And already they don't like her?”

“You read
Blink
by Malcolm Gladwell?”

“You mean you did?”

Boggy gave me a long look.

“First impressions matter,” he said. “Instinct is everything.”

“And they instinctively didn't like her, right from the start?”

“That,” Boggy said. “And there are things she has done.”

“What things?”

“Small things, maybe. But together they make a picture of a person. She is very attached to her cell phone.”

“Lots of people are. A character flaw, maybe, but not a giant one these days. Sadly.”

“She got very angry when she could not make calls. Apparently there is no coverage on this island.”

“Knew I liked this place.”

“Mickey Ryser told her she could use the radio, call anyone she wanted, even patch the radio to the cell phone of whoever she wanted to call.”

“Expensive. Plus, not very private.”

“Mickey Ryser he said he would do this for her, but she got mad and said no and went to her room.”

“Which begs the question: Who is it she needs to call so badly?”

“Also, Miss Rose came upon her last night in Mickey Ryser's den. It was late, after midnight, and Miss Rose couldn't sleep.”

“Must be going around.”

“Miss Rose stood in the shadows, away from the door, and watched as the young woman went through Mickey Ryser's desk and all its drawers. Miss Rose, she is very upset by this.”

“Understandably. Did she take anything?”

Boggy shook his head.

“No, Miss Rose, she does not think so. She had to hurry away before the young woman saw her.”

“Anything else?”

Boggy nodded.

“It is about Mickey Ryser. When he returned here a few days ago, he brought much money with him. Two suitcases of it. Curtis he carried the suitcases for Mickey Ryser and helped him put the money in a safe.”

“The safe, it's in his den?”

“I did not ask and they did not tell me.”

“And they are worried that the girl is trying to find it?”

Boggy shook his head.

“No, it is not that so much. They say it is a very good safe and only Mickey Ryser can open it. Mostly I think they are sad about the money.”

“Sad? Why?”

“Because it means Mickey Ryser knows he is going to die and he is getting together all his money so the government cannot find it after he is gone.”

“A man after my own heart.”

“And they are sad, too, because after Mickey Ryser is gone they do not know what will happen to them.”

We walked for a while and didn't talk. It got even hotter as we moved out of the shade and into the clearing near the foot of the dock.

I said, “That all you got?”

“There is one more thing, Zachary.”

“I'm listening.”

“It is very bad news for you.”

“I can handle it.”

Boggy put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a somber look.

“That guava duff? I finished it off. And I licked the pan.”

We were sitting at the end of the dock when we heard the sound of Charlie Callahan's seaplane. It swooped in low and circled the island. Charlie wiggled the wings, an aerowave, and put the plane down well offshore.

He motored in, stopped a few yards from where we had anchored
Radiance,
and threw out anchors of his own.

Boggy and I took the dinghy out to get him. He stood on one of the pontoons and started barking at me the moment we got there.

“Exactly what kind of shitstorm have you started, Chasteen?”

“You tell me.”

“Got your face on the front page of the
Guardian.
”

“They use a good photo?”

“Old one. In a Dolphins jersey. You had helmet hair.”

“Damn,” I said. “They need to update the files. I'm way better looking now.”

“Cut the crap, man. What's going on?”

“Wanted for murder, on the run. Same old, same old.”

“Wanted for a bunch of other things, too, according to that story.”

“You were there. You know what happened.”

“Yeah, I
was
there. Which explains why things are hot for me, too. This little friend of mine on Andros…”

“How was your entanglement, Charlie?”

“Fine, thanks. Nice of you to ask. Wish it could have lasted longer,” Charlie said. “Only this little friend of mine, her phone rings this morning, wakes us both up. It's a girlfriend of hers, works dispatch for the Andros police. She knows about the two of us. She says there's an all-Bahamas bulletin out, looking for a Maule-MT-7-420. A red one. Owned by none other than me. She asked my friend if she had seen me.”

“Your friend lie?”

“Yeah, she lied, but she didn't like it. Let's just say I didn't get the send-off I deserved. Might explain why I'm a little cranky.”

We pulled up to the dock and tied off the dinghy. Charlie looked around.

“Hell of a place,” he said. “Leave it to Mickey, huh?”

“How did you get away from Andros without the police noticing?”

“I'm one slick son of a bitch, that's how. My friend lives down at Cargill Creek, but I tucked in up the coast a bit, near Small Hope Bay. Had her drive up and get me. Mostly I was worried about her husband knowing I was on the island. Turns out he was gone to Nassau for the week. So I was feeling good about things. Real good. And then all this happened.”

“You didn't have any trouble flying out of there?”

“Yeah, I had trouble. A world of trouble,” Charlie said. “I got her to drive me up to where I'd tucked away the plane. Only I'd get ready to take off and here would come someone. Fishermen mostly, but I didn't want anyone to see me if there was any way I could help it. And it was broad daylight, you know? Once it was a police boat came by. Another time it was a search plane flying low.”

“Think they were looking for you?”

“Had to think that. They were sure as hell looking for something,” Charlie said. “I have to tell you, Zack, I was sitting there thinking:
Screw it, just give yourself up. You didn't do anything. You're innocent. You'll get out of this. Eventually.
”

“It was the eventually part that bothered me.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Charlie said. “So I saw these thunderheads building in the east. They kept building and building and I kept sitting there waiting on them. A couple-three hours. Sweating my ass off in the cockpit of my plane, thinking all the time someone's gonna find me. Storm finally got there and, I'm telling you, it cut all-to-hell loose. Lightning and thunder and must have been forty-knot winds. But it by God cleared out the boats from the water. And I flew right into the teeth of it. Couldn't see shit. Nothing I hate worse than taking off into a squall.”

“Thanks for coming,” I said. “Appreciate it.”

“Yeah, so now what? I'm here and”—he pointed out to the plane—“that's as good as a billboard advertising me. You got any ideas?”

We wound up enlisting the help of Curtis and Edwin. They took us up to the green house and found a big roll of shade cloth—black plastic with a fine mesh. We cut a half-dozen lengths about a hundred feet each. We didn't tell Curtis and Edwin why we needed to camouflage the plane and they didn't ask.

Charlie pulled the seaplane as close as he could get it to the beach. The pontoons dug into the sand, but he said it wouldn't be any problem getting it out as long as there were just a few inches of water.

We draped the shade cloth over the plane and tied it down. When we got done we stood back and looked at it. It looked peculiar. But it didn't look like a seaplane. And it didn't look red.

It took some of the edge off Charlie. He spent a few moments admiring the surroundings, his gaze drifting up to the house.

“Hell of a house.” He looked at me. “Please tell me it's got a bar.”

By mid afternoon, Mickey Ryser was rallying the troops for an outing on
Radiance.

“You sure you strong enough for that?” Octavia said.

“Just the sight of that boat makes me feel better,” Mickey said. “That and having my daughter here with me.”

“I don't like boats,” Octavia said. “I get sick on 'em.”

“Then don't go,” Mickey said. “Any medicine I need, I can take it with me. You stay here. Take it easy. Relax.”

Octavia didn't argue with him.

But Jen did. She said she was too exhausted to go out in the boat. I heard Mickey pleading with her from her bedroom, their voices carrying down to the second-floor living room where I sat with Boggy and Charlie.

“It'll only be for a couple of hours, honey. Just a quick little shakedown cruise.”

“You go. I don't feel like it.”

“But I want you on the boat. It means a lot.”

“Some other time. I'm tired.”

“You can rest on the boat. There's a big couch in the salon. AC and everything.”

“Where are you going anyway?”

“Thought we'd run down to George Town, then turn around and run back.”

Something about that must have helped change her mind.

“OK,” she said. “I'll go.”

 

Aside from the fact that the police were on the prowl for us, it was a fine day for cruising on a million-dollar classic yacht.

Charlie said the story in the
Guardian
hadn't mentioned anything about Boggy and me being seen last aboard
Radiance.
Maybe the people at Dilly's Marina hadn't made the connection. Or maybe they had made the connection and chosen not to contact the police, figuring that Mickey Ryser's sizable business with them bought some degree of silence. I could only hope.

I still hadn't told Mickey about the trouble that was chasing us. And once I saw how his spirits and physical condition seemed so markedly improved just by being aboard
Radiance
with his daughter and his friends, I decided against telling him altogether.

Why spoil the occasion? Why dump a bucket of misery on the guy? Let him enjoy what time he had left. I'd get out of this mess, smooth things over. I could tell him about it then. Better that way.

We ran south for an hour, Mickey at the helm, beaming like a boy with a brand-new bike. Curtis and Edwin had joined us. They had removed the canvas covers from the chairs on the aft deck and were sitting there with Boggy and Charlie, the covers stowed neatly beneath the gunwales.

I was in the pilot house with Mickey and Jen. The three of us held down the captain's bench, Jen in the middle, a big straw bag by her feet. Her long white linen top was sheer enough to show the bright blue bikini beneath it. She wore a floppy yellow hat and big sunglasses.

Mickey had some tunes going, a vintage ska mix, but we could talk above it. I turned and looked at Jen.

“So where's this boat of yours? Sounds like quite a rig.”

It took her a moment to answer.

“Sold it,” she said.

Mickey looked as surprised to hear it as I was.

“You did what?”

“I sold it.” She shrugged and gave Mickey's arm a squeeze. “I got to thinking about it and I decided that it was really selfish of me to go sailing all over the place when I should be here when you needed me. I can always get another boat. But there's not another you.”

Mickey kissed her forehead and wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Where did you sell it?” I asked her.

“Marsh Harbour.”

“Where in Marsh Harbour?”

She sat up and looked at me. It was not a friendly look.

“A marina.”

“What marina?”

It got me a glance from Mickey.

“What difference does it make, Zack-o? It's her boat. She can do what she wants with it. I just hope she sold it for a good price.”

Jen smiled.

“I did. I got a real good price for it…Doo-Dah.”

She laughed. Mickey laughed, too.

“You mean, the marina bought it outright? Because most of the time, a marina will just act as the agent and get a commission after the boat sells. It can take a while. Especially the boat market being what it is these days.”

Jen blew out air, annoyed.

“I sold the boat to the marina. They gave me money for it. I put the money in the bank. Anything else you want to know?”

“Yes, actually. What about your friends?”

“What about them?”

“Well, I know Karen Breakell found a job on a charter boat. And Will Moody, I saw him the other night. But what about the others? Justin and Torrey and the other one…Pete. Pete Crumrine.”

She studied my face.

“You really did your homework, didn't you?”

“What about them, Jen?”

“They're cool with it,” she said. “They totally understood. I mean, who wouldn't understand something like this?”

“Are they still in Marsh Harbour?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“Or did they go home?”

“I told you, I don't know. I got on the plane and flew down here and they could be anywhere now for all I know.”

Another look from Mickey, this time a little perturbed.

“Enough already with the third degree, OK, Zack? She's safe. She's here. That's all I care about.”

He gave Jen another hug, but she squirmed out of it and stood up from the bench. She grabbed her straw bag.

“I'm going below,” she said.