Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (2 page)

Chapter Two

Five months later, Kit and I were pigging out on stone crabs and Bloody Marys at Joe’s Stone Crabs. A November day in Miami is perfect al fresco weather. Kit is my nail tech and consigliere. I tell him everything. Sometimes I listen to his advice. We were talking about my recent divorce.

“You’re well rid of him. Croc could have cost you your life.”

“I wasn’t cut out for marriage. Being financially responsible for his unpredictable actions was driving me crazy. It was only a matter of time before I was slaughtered or sued.”

Kit stretched his long legs and yawned. “I don’t know how you straight people do it… live in such close quarters.”

“Remember how crazy I was that first week after the final decree? I couldn’t wait to get away from him. I flew off shedding my possessions like feathers from a molting bird. I wanted to be free of everything that smelled, tasted, or felt like Croc.”

He laughed. “Not going to make that marriage mistake again, are you?”

“Nope. I live snug in my little condo on the beach. There’s no room in my life for a man. My closet’s too small.”

“Your teeny closet gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

I took a big swallow of my Bloody Mary before I spoke. “I wonder about Croc. It’s hard to imagine his huge ego would allow him to disappear into thin air. And I can’t help wonder how that idiot talked investors into parting with their money.”

Kit fiddled with the Tabasco, spicing his drink just this side of combustion. “He talked you into marrying him.”

I cracked a big claw and dipped it in the mustard sauce. “I had an excuse. I’ll never get that tipsy again.”

“Three of my salon clients went wonkers over their investment losses last week. They collapsed into crying fits while I was doing their nails. People aren’t coping well with the financial meltdown.”

He took a slow, easy swig from his glass and then asked, “What exactly is a Ponzi scheme?”

“A scam where a crook, a big kahuna, gets investment capital from Client A by promising him fat returns – like 20% – then gets Client B the same way, using his money to pay off Client A, making it look like he’s delivering on the investment promise. Then he needs Client C, D, and E to keep the circle of payoffs and influx of new cash going… you get the picture. It’s a ‘rob Peter to pay Paul’ that never ends. At some point, that big kahuna gets caught, but not before he’s ruined the lives of many, many people.”

Kit thumped his forefinger on the table and drew 20% with the condensation from his glass. “You mean he’s using new money to pay the promised interest even though he’s not making anywhere near the 20%.”

I rubbed out his markings on the table. “Exactly, except that number’s only an example.”

“Is that what Croc was doing?”

“Croc wasn’t running a Ponzi. He was running a hedge fund, which is pretty shaky in its own right, but him being lazy, and stupid, and worthless… Sorry, I digress. I know Croc. I hope he wasn’t foolish enough to be a feeder for some big kahuna. I’ve been worried ever since that Russian stopped us.”

“Did Croc have a big kahuna?”

Skipping over his double-entendre, I said, “I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Let’s change the subject, please.”

He beamed a laser-white smile. “Well… my new show opens in two weeks.”

Kit’s career as the reigning drag queen of Miami Beach was his passion. It was unnerving to watch him prance around in full makeup. He actually made a fairly good-looking giantess.

“You definitely got my mind off finances. Let’s split one dessert. I have Treanna tonight. We’re ordering pizza and making ice cream sundaes. I’ll be a blimp before the weekend is over.

We topped off lunch with a gooey key lime pie. Satiated, I dropped Kit back at his salon.

***

My real estate company Darlin Realty was located in an old house I’d taken great pleasure in renovating. It was a deep shade of putty green, two-story with a wrap-around front porch. We never used the veranda, but it looked inviting with a white wicker loveseat and two big rocking chairs.

Linda, our receptionist, was out to lunch when I got back. I grabbed the phone on the second ring rather than letting the service get it.

“Darlin Realty. Wendy speaking.”

A raspy voice said, “This is Charlie Hook.”

I knew the name but feigned ignorance. We’d almost met the night Croc disappeared.

“How can I help you?”

“
The
Charlie Hook.” He repeated with irritation and ego flooding out of the phone. “I’m in the market for a house on Miami Beach – private, walled, ocean view. I’ll go up to thirty-mil.”

We were talking big commission dollars whether I made the sale or one of my agents did. I thought it over for a few seconds and agreed to meet him at a private hanger at Miami International in two hours. The little hairs on the back of my neck were dancing the no-no dance, but I ignored them.

A few minutes later, Marni Kimble wandered into my office as I was packing my Louis Vuitton tote. She was one of my newly licensed agents and had yet to make a sale. She’d been clinging to me as though I could wave a magic wand and
poof
, she’d sell a beachfront mini-mansion. She settled her athletic body into a chair and flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She was a hottie in search of the good life.

I smiled at her. “How’s it going?”

“I’m starting to feel like I’m not cut out to sell real estate. I can’t get a decent client. New money wants to work with an agent they can identify with. Money likes to hang with money.”

“No more of your limp excuses. Your mom did well when she worked for me, and she was going through chemo during most of that time. She’s smart and independent. You have her genes. We’re going to make you into
Realtor of the Year
.”

She shot me an angry look. “I’m nothing like my mother. Cripes, who retires to Mexico?” Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she knotted it at the back of her head. “I was born to be taken care of.”

Her complaining was wearing thin. There are millions of reasons why something can’t be done, but I never let them stop me. Stepping into my mentoring mode, I said, “Grab your things. I’m on my way to meet a buyer. If he’s for real, I’ll give him to you. That’s how much confidence I have.”

She was still thanking me as we buckled up in my Jag sedan and headed for our meeting with fate.

It was easy enough to find the private hangers in Miami… They were the buildings that tried hardest to be inconspicuous. Charlie Hook timed his entrance for our arrival. He strutted from his jet as if he’d just won Best In Show. He was about six-feet tall and weighed about one-sixty. Lean and lanky, he had a thick shock of gray hair, a George Hamilton tan, and perfect white teeth that had to cost a small fortune.

First words out of his thin lips grated on me. “Gotta trade in this Gulfstream. No damn leg room.” He eyed Marni and then put his arm around me like we were old friends.

I choked down a gag and introduced him. My young agent’s doe eyes doubled in size when he invited her into his plane for a drink. I got the crazy feeling the hotshot was trying to make me jealous.

“Marni’s on a tight schedule. She’s working with a number of clients,” I lied.

Hook clenched his jaw and the pupils of his gray eyes became the size of BBs. “I want her exclusive attention or not at all.”

I’d show him who was in control. I motioned Hook to follow us. “Marni’s laptop is in my car. She can give you a virtual tour of a couple of properties.”

“I don’t do virtual. That’s for lookers. I’m a buyer.” He followed us to my Jag.

Marni grabbed her computer and jacket from the front seat. “I’ll go with Mr. Hook in his limo if he doesn’t mind.” She twisted the corners of her mouth in a suck-up smile.

Pulling her aside, I whispered in her ear, “What are you doing? Call me if he gives you any trouble.” I had an uneasy feeling.

“What about you? ‘Hook said. “My money not good enough?”

Ignoring his remark, I waved them off. “Cheers!”

***

Ten days and twenty mansions later, there were no offers from Hook. Things were going circular, and he was taking gobs of Marni’s time. She was at the front desk setting up viewing appointments when Hook slithered into my office.

“So, why did you shuffle me off to an underling?” he asked.

“Marni’s a good agent. She needs this sale.”

“And you don’t? Did your ex leave you with a secret fortune?”

“Who told you I was divorced?” My skin felt crawly.

“You’re a workaholic with one ex in your closet and no kids.”

Marni-big-mouth must have given him the skinny on me. I needed to have a serious talk with that girl about discretion.

I was used to new-rich, high fliers who thought everything came with a price tag. Hook was shopping in the wrong store if he was looking at me. I couldn’t afford to tell him exactly what I thought of him. Besides it wouldn’t have made a dent in his brain. There are some things money can’t buy; one is class.

“Are you really in the market for a house, or are you just trolling?”

Hook stood up like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. “I don’t need to troll. I can have any woman I want.” He narrowed his snake eyes at me. “I’m taking Marni to see my yacht this afternoon. Want to play chaperone?”

I was in no rush to complicate my life again, and certainly not with another wheeler-dealer. But now I knew what Hook’s little game was, I couldn’t resist baiting him. It would be fun to taunt this predator with my unavailability and goad him into buying a property from Marni – which would bring money into Darlin Realty.

Stepping over his crass remarks like a pile of warm dog poop, I said, “I’ll be there. Where are you moored?”

“At the Million Mile Marina near Key Biscayne. Just ask for the
Predator.”

“That figures.”

He managed a half-sneer as he turned and walked away.

I called Kit. “Want to tour a super-yacht?” I wasn’t going without protection.

Chapter Three

The
Predator
was naked aggression disguised as four decks of white-on-white luxury but with armaments only the rich and paranoid could afford. It looked like a giant, white dagger. Its porthole-dotted hull was sleek and shiny; its angles provided perfect protection from pirate attacks.

White-clad crew members lined up to welcome us on board. They fell over themselves in anticipating our needs. Marni smiled as though she’d found nirvana. Kit tripped over himself ogling the cute young stewards.

It was clear our host was a swashbuckling entrepreneur with a roving eye and a laser-like focus on high living. Hook strutted around the ship pointing out the luxuries and the systems in place to secure them. “There are no standard staterooms on this baby. I had the walls taken out and made four gigantic luxury suites. The master is two-thousand square feet with a rotating bed.”

I fought off the creepy feeling that Hook’s lecherous remarks were aimed at me.

The master suite was three stories tall with teak floors and lots of chrome. A private elevator that would have been more comfortable if we’d been one person less carried us up to the main deck. Hook stepped aside and beckoned us into a room that glittered like Irish crystal. I was tempted to pretend to tip him.

“This is the grand salon… ready for a party,” he announced. The room was painfully bright with infinity mirrors and ultra modern furniture.

“Look down. That’s an Olympic-size swimming pool with a glass bottom, and below that is the formal dining room. We can look up from our lobster soufflé and watch bikinis splash about.”

He pointed to a smaller upper deck. “There’s the golf course simulator and driving range. I never use it. And over here is the drive-in theater. The screen is hidden in the flooring. Of course, no cars.” He laughed.

“No back seats? How do you have sex?” Kit asked.

Hook shot him a bewildered look.

We followed up the spiral staircase onto the helideck.

Hook flipped his hand toward a helicopter sitting like a giant earth-bound cloud. “That’s
the
Shark.
And here comes the pilot.”

A young woman, barely five feet and surely less than one hundred pounds, walked toward us, her long golden curls bouncing, and extended her hand. “Welcome to the
Predator
. I’m Jaxbee, first mate and chopper pilot. Nice to have you on board.”

Hook smiled at her. I wondered if they had a thing going on. Otherwise how could this kid come by such an important job?

He continued, “I’m getting ready to take the ship on her maiden voyage, a world cruise. It costs almost a half-million dollars to fill the tank.”

“How impressive,” Kit said rolling his eyes. Jaxbee smirked.

Hook puffed up his chest like a rooster about to crow. “This tricked-out ship is designed to stay at sea for months.”