Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) (19 page)

I stopped dead on the sidewalk as Sophie’s warning once again bombarded my thoughts. I might not be alive on Sunday.

Thanks, Sophie. Thanks a lot.

I’d barely been home a minute — and hadn’t had time to change into my grungies — when Richard showed up at my door. I let him in. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“No. Give me a minute, will you?”

I went into my bedroom and he waited in the living room. “I’ve got two worried women on my hands,” he called out.

“What?”

“Brenda is about ready to jump out of her skin. If this baby doesn’t come this weekend, she wants to be induced.”

“I have it on good authority that the baby will be here before the game on Sunday.”

“Damn. We’re going to miss it. Why couldn’t the team be on the road this week?” he groused.

“Sam has already begged me for the tickets.”

“Do you want them?”

“I wouldn’t mind going. Maybe I can get Sam to buy the beer.” Of course, that was supposing I was still alive come game time. Damn you, Sophie, for being so enigmatic.

“Then they’re yours,” he said as I came back into living room, carrying my sneakers. I sat down on the couch and put them on. He’d already grabbed my denim jacket from the coat closet and held it out for me. “Let’s go.”

The sunny weather was holding when, a minute later, we were pulling out of the driveway and heading for the marina. Richard spent the next twenty minutes giving me a blow-by-blow description of his discussions with Evelyn about Da-Marr. I wanted to hear that like I wanted a tooth pulled and barely paid attention, thinking about what I’d learned that morning and hoping I didn’t experience any more of those annoying flashes of light.

Our first stop was the Grand Island police impound lot. The tow job had cost a hell of a lot more than if Richard had been given the option of a Triple A tow and, as he expected, he found Brenda’s gas tank dry. The sky seemed to darken as I drove to the nearest gas station, paid an outrageous deposit on a five-gallon jug, and then returned to the lot to dump the gas in Brenda’s tank. Richard followed me back to the station where my credit card was refunded and then he filled the tank. By that time, it was nearly two.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Richard asked.

“A couple of cookies.”

“That’s more than I had. I’m starved. I think there’s a diner down the road. Are you up for it?”

“Why not?”

I followed him to the diner. It was busy, and obviously filled with the local retired population. The young skinny waitress, dressed in dark pants and a white shirt, brought us some menus and upended the coffee cups before us on the paper placemats, pouring before I had a chance to stop her. I would have preferred a beer.

“I’ll be back to take your order in a couple of minutes,” she promised and commenced to pour more coffee for the people at the next table.

We perused the menu for less than thirty seconds before we both set them aside, and then Richard and I sat and looked at each other. It reminded me of the time we’d hit a diner before we went to spill our guts to the investigating detective in the Matt Sumner murder. But this was different. Thank God, this time we weren’t going on a mission to reveal a killer. But then Sophie’s warning came back to haunt me once again.

Damn her.

I needed to distract myself. I added a container of half-and-half to my coffee and took a sip. “You’re a rich guy. Have you got any hidden assets?”

“Only in my underwear,” he said with a wry smile.

“Seriously, have you ever thought about hiding assets?”

“What for? I have more money than I can possibly ever use. I’ve been giving it away and intend to do more of it in the near future.”

“Okay, but say you did want to hide it. What would you do?”

He shrugged and picked up his cup. “I might buy gold coins, or jewelry. But then I’d have to worry about it being stolen. Insurance might be a nightmare.”

He thought too practically. I needed a little creativity here. I thought about the flashing light. How it had sparkled. “What about diamonds?”

He shrugged. “The diamond market has changed since DeBeers lost the worldwide monopoly.”

“Who did what? And how do you know about it?”

He frowned. “I read. DeBeers used to control nearly all the diamonds sold in the world. That was before lucrative mines were discovered in Russia, Australia, and even Canada. Still, the bigger the uncut diamond, the more it might be worth when it comes time to shape it. Big uncut stones are becoming a rare commodity, you know.”

“No, I didn’t.” And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know it. “What about cut stones?”

He shrugged. “It depends on their size and clarity. Why are you so interested in all of this?”

“It’s something Sam and I have been looking into.”

“Yeah, you were going to tell me all about it.”

I took another sip of coffee. He wasn’t going to like this. “Sam’s doing a story on Jack Morrow.”

“The racketeer who was shot to death?” he asked, his voice rising. He definitely didn’t like this. “Please tell me you’re not looking for his killer.”

“We’re not looking for his killer. Although if we found him, Sam would probably dance a jig. We’re actually looking for his missing assets.”

“And you think they might be diamonds?”

“No. Well, not really. I was thinking maybe gold. But we haven’t found anything concrete.”

“I wish you’d stop looking. It’s dangerous. You’ve had a rotten week and you deserve some peace.” He lowered his voice. “We both know that invoking this psychic crap really takes a toll on you. Please drop it.”

I wasn’t sure I could. Not with the debt I still owed Sam.

The waitress arrived, giving me the out I needed.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” I said.

“A Reuben,” Richard said.

She collected our menus. “They’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

Richard nodded, and picked up his cup once more. “I didn’t think to check the boat’s fuel tank the last time we used it. We might have to top it up, but I don’t want to get too much diesel. I’m not even sure if they drain the tank before they put the boat in storage. We’ve got so much to learn.”

“You said this was our last chance to run it.”

“Everything’s got to be out of the marina before the end of next week. The baby will be here any minute, so after we’re done with our ride today, I’m going to tell them to do whatever it is they do. I’ve seen a lot of boats with shrink wrap. I guess I’ll go for it, even though it’ll be stored in a building off-site.”

“You went for that? What did Brenda say?”

“I didn’t bother her with the details.”

And probably for good reason.

As promised, our food arrived quickly and we dug in. For someone who had wanted to take one last boat ride of the season, Richard seemed antsy — as though he wanted to get this over with. This was going to be my first and last chance of the year to drive the thing and I intended to milk it for all I could. After all, if Sophie’s rather vague but dire prediction came true, it might be the last fun thing I got to do.

Had she seen a boating accident in my future?

Surely, she would have said.

I chewed my sandwich a little slower.

Richard finished long before me, and in fact, I just gave up and pushed my untouched soup away. He paid the tab and we started off for the marina once again.

We got separated at the next traffic light, and I arrived at the marina before Richard did. I got out of the car and planted my butt against the warm metal of the driver’s side door. The wan sun ducked behind yet another cloud, one of many that seemed to be gathering in the west and north.

As I waited, I wondered again about the life jackets. I hadn’t seen them the last time we’d been onboard. I remembered Sophie’s worried face and I wondered if we ought to pick up a couple before we took off. As soon as Richard arrived, I asked him about it.

“Good idea,” he said. “You go on ahead and I’ll get some from the marine store.”

“Okay.”

We split up. As I walked along the wide dock, I noted that there were only four other boats left in their slips, including the one Da-Marr had been aboard several days earlier.

A cold wind blew off the water, and I found myself walking slower as I approached Richard’s boat. Sophie’s warning buzzed through my mind like an angry insect — a bee or a wasp — just as deadly.

The smoky glass doors made it difficult to see into the salon, so I backed up a few feet until I was in line with the starboard side window and definitely saw movement within. Damn that Da-Marr. He turned, saw me, and I could see rage unfold across his features. He charged for the sliding glass door to the deck, shoving it back with such force I was sure it would shatter.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Go!”

“Who the hell do you think you are ordering me around? First you steal Brenda’s car — that’s grand theft auto — and now you’re trespassing.”

“Get the fuck away from here!” he hollered even louder.

Although I was sick of letting this petty thug intimidate me, I backed up a few paces. For such a big guy, Da-Marr was fast. In one fantastic leap, he made it over the side of the boat and onto the dock.

I flashed back to the mugging.

The baseball bat came arcing toward me.

I raised my arm to stave off the blow.

Da-Marr grabbed hold of my jacket, knocking me off balance, and hauled me back toward the boat. Stunned, I had no time to offer resistance as he tossed me onto the deck. I smacked my head so hard I saw stars and time seemed to stop. I was vaguely aware of him rifling through my pockets until he’d fleeced me of my keys.

“Don’t move!” he shouted.

I could barely think, let alone move.

I heard a noise that took me far too long to identify.

Rolling over on my side, I managed to pull myself into a sitting position, and realized the boat was bobbing. The powerful diesel engines fired up, and suddenly we were moving away from the dock.

What the hell?

I looked up to the bridge deck to see Da-Marr at the boat’s controls.

“Da-Marr!”

I looked back at the rapidly retreating dock where Richard stood holding onto a couple of orange life jackets. “Da-Marr, wait!” he hollered, panic-stricken. He tossed the life jackets onto the dock and started running. “Jeff! Jump — jump!” he hollered, but my head was still spinning. He was gaining on us, and when he got to the end of the dock he dove in — just as Da-Marr hit the throttle. The momentum knocked me over. By the time I crawled to my knees to look over the back of the boat, all I could see was the top of Richard’s head in the water as we sped away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

The engines cut back, but Da-Marr stayed at the controls. “We almost got caught.”

I looked at the open door to the salon and saw a vaguely familiar figure — a skinny white guy, older than Da-Marr by a few years — step onto the deck. I’d seen him somewhere but couldn’t place him, and yet I knew who he was — but not his name. Clutched in his hand was a large Philips screwdriver. He looked down at me in anger. “Who the hell are you?”

I swallowed — didn’t answer. Understanding dawned as I realized that Easy Breezin’ had to have been Jack Morrow’s boat — one of three that the IRS had confiscated. One of three sold at auction. Why the hell did Richard have to pick this damn boat?

The engines began to idle, and Da-Marr trundled down the stairs from the bridge deck.

“He’s the asshole brother of the dude that owns this boat.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“I figured if he was at the marina, so was the brother and we’d get caught. I ain’t goin’ to jail for this.”

“For what? What are you looking for, boys? Something shiny?” I asked.

Whitey turned abruptly. “What do you mean?”

“Diamonds. Isn’t that what you’re searching for? Isn’t that what you were searching for when you ruined the salon’s upholstery the other day?”

Da-Marr looked scared; despite the stiff wind, his upper lip had beaded with sweat. “Shit. How did you know about that?”

“I know a lot of things — especially about Jack Morrow.” I turned to Whitey. “About how you two used to play pool at his house. How you let him beat you every time.”

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded again, growing angrier.

“I told you,” Da-Marr said. “And he don’t know nothing.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You squealed. Who’d you tell?” Whitey demanded.

“I swear, Bobby, I told nobody.” He glared down at me. “Especially not this pussy.”

Bobby glared at me, convulsively clenching the screwdriver, thinking things over.

The boat began to drift north with the current, waves smacking the sides as it bobbed.

Finally, Bobby nodded at me. “Get up.”

“What you gonna do?” Da-Marr asked, fear creeping into his voice.

Bobby ignored him. “I said get up!”

Holding onto the end of the boat, I struggled to my feet.

“If you know so much, you can lead us to the diamonds.”

“That’s one secret Jack Morrow never shared with me.”

“He’s lying,” Da-Marr said. “He never knew the guy. Richard said they didn’t know who owned the boat before him.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Bobby said. He stood back and motioned me to enter the salon.

Richard was right. I should have jumped overboard. Bobby could easily stab me with the screwdriver and toss me over the side anyway. It made sense to bide my time.

I hoped.

I stepped forward and Bobby grabbed my jacket.

The baseball bat arced toward me, and I raised my arm to protect my head.

Bobby shoved me into the salon that bore no resemblance to the peaceful sanctuary of leather and cherry wood I had known only days before. Everything had been dismantled. Holes had been punched into the walls and ceiling, and I saw the baby sledgehammer that had been responsible for the destruction lying on the floor.

The microwave had been ripped from its housing, its case removed. The two-burner ceramic range had been smashed, no doubt another victim of baby sledge. The Corian counters were gone, and I had a feeling they lay at the bottom of the marina, too bulky to throw into the dumpster, and too heavy to have to move, they’d probably slid into the water the night before, on the port side and out of range of the dockside security cameras.

Now that I knew about the diamonds, and that this was Morrow’s boat, I thought I knew where they might be hidden — in the tidy engine room. But there was no way I wanted to go down there. It would be too easy for them to kill me once the stones were found. Then what would they do?

The boat continued to drift north, and I knew what lay ahead if we didn’t stop moving in that direction; something enormously big, with a very long drop.

“Da-Marr, get this boat out of the middle of the river and find us a place to hide,” Bobby ordered.

Da-Marr looked uncertain, but nodded, and headed up the stairs once again for the bridge deck. Bobby shoved me toward the master stateroom. “Get moving.”

As I started to move, the Slipstream’s engines thrummed to life below us once more.

My heart sank at the sight of what had once been a sumptuous respite. The queen-size bed took up ninety-percent of the tiny bedroom, or at least it had. That was before the mattress had been reduced to the consistency of shredded wheat. The platform had been reduced to tinder — out of spite, no doubt. As in the salon, there were holes punched in all the walls and Fiberglass ceiling, and even the flat-screen TV attached to the wall opposite the bed had been smashed in what was probably frustration at not finding Morrow’s treasure.

“So where is Jack’s stash?” Bobby demanded.

“It’s not in here,” I said, and turned to face him. For a moment, I thought he might hit me, but then his lips turned up into a smarmy smile.

“
Are
the diamonds here on the boat?” Bobby asked, his tone menacing.

“What made you think they were?”

“Because Easy Breezin’ was the thing Jack loved most. Even more than that whore he married ten years ago. Crap, that bitch couldn’t wait to leave the country with everything she could lay her hands on. She never took to heart the phrase
stand by your man
. But Jack was arrested before he could get the stones. The feds took the boats the next day.”

“Are you a friend of Harry’s?” I asked. Bobby looked to be about the same age as Harry, but not nearly as sophisticated. Had he been a schoolmate who hadn’t been privy to the money and status Harry had enjoyed and resented him for it — enough to kill because of it?

“Friend?” he repeated in disgust. “Harry wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.”

That wasn’t the impression I’d received from the younger Mr. Morrow. He’d seemed like a decent enough guy who’d been shamed by his unrepentant father, and yet … when I thought about him, I got the impression he’d loved his father unconditionally. My mother was a drunk and the worst excuse for motherhood to set foot on the planet, and yet I’d felt the same way about her. I hadn’t always liked her, but I had loved her. The more I looked at Bobby, things I’d been feeling when touching the chalk seemed to coalesce within my mind. He’d been jealous of the Morrows’ wealth. He hadn’t been Harry’s friend — more like a hanger-on. He’d shown up at the Morrow home even after his friendship with Harry had waned, after high school or college — I wasn’t quite sure which.

“Da-Marr thinks you’re Morrow’s son,” I said, as I bent down to look through the litter on the floor.

“So what?”

I straightened. “What will happen when he finds out you aren’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s going to have a mysterious accident.”

My stomach did a flip-flip. “You don’t leave witnesses,” I stated.

Bobby smiled. “No, I don’t.”

Was he underestimating Da-Marr? Or had he brought along the gun he’d used to splatter Morrow’s brains across the Lexus?

“What you’re looking for obviously isn’t in here,” I said, keeping my voice level.

“I’ve spent the last eighteen hours tearing this boat apart. They’re here, I just haven’t found them yet.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“You’d better hope I’m right.”

I shook my head. “You already said you don’t leave witnesses.”

The smarmy smile returned. “Get to work.”

“Doing what? How are you going to find the diamonds when you can’t move around in here?”

“Then you can start dropping the stuff into the river to give us room.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. If someone on shore saw us dumping junk overboard, they could call the Niagara County Sheriff’s Office marine patrol. Then again, what awaited us north of Grand Island could be lethal.

I grabbed an abundant armful of what had once been mattress stuffing and shuffled out the stateroom, into the salon and out onto the deck. As I tossed it overboard, I scanned both shores.

Not a boat in sight.

The engines below my feet stopped dead.

Bobby looked up to the bridge deck. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Then Da-Marr let loose with a blue cloud of profanity. “We’re out of gas.”

“Are you shitting me?” Bobby asked.

“No!”

Bobby left me, taking the steps to the bridge deck two at a time.

I looked back to the salon. Unfortunately, the radio was upstairs on the bridge deck. Would it even be intact, or had they already destroyed some of the dashboard looking for the diamonds? We were caught in the current, drifting north again. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. There were cell towers along the shore, but was I close enough to get a signal? Yes! I punched in 911, and seconds later a dispatcher came on the line.

“Please state the nature of your emergency.”

“I’m on a boat in the Niagara River and — ”

A hard shove nearly sent me overboard. My phone went straight into the drink.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bobby demanded. I hadn’t heard him come back down the stairs.

“What did it look like I was doing?”

Bobby punched me hard in the gut and I fell to my knees. Then he kicked me, his heavy boot smashing into my left knee.

“Hey!” Da-Marr hollered. “Stop it. Stop it!” He grabbed the back of Bobby’s shirt and hauled him away from me.

Bobby turned on him. “Don’t you touch me!”

Da-Marr backed up a step, looking scared. “What in hell is with you?”

“Drop the anchor. We’ve got to stop the boat and figure out what we’re going to do next.”

“Anchor?” Da-Marr repeated stupidly. “I don’t know where the control is.”

Bobby shoved him aside and started up the steps to the bridge once more. Da-Marr watched him go up, then turned for me.

The thug came at me with the baseball bat, this time with intent to kill.

I ducked my head for the blow, but instead Da-Marr grabbed me by the front of my jacket and helped me to my feet. “That fucker’s crazy,” he grated and looked back to the bridge deck. “We gotta do something, man.” He turned back to face me. “You got any ideas?”

Could I trust him? He’d threatened me. Terrorized my cat. Filled my apartment with deadly wasps.

I took a chance. “Does he have a phone?”

“I don’t know.”

I bit my lip and looked toward the north, where the sky was growing darker over Lake Ontario.

“Do you know where the diamonds are?” Da-Marr asked.

“No,” I said, not sure if I was telling the truth.

“Holy Christ!” Bobby nearly screamed from the helm. “Da-Marr, bring that fuckhead up here.”

“You know any more about running this boat than me?” Da-Marr asked.

I shook my head. “You never let me have a chance at the wheel, remember?”

“We better get up there. And don’t you let on that I don’t wanna kill your ass.”

“Thanks.”

Holding onto my throbbing knee, I struggled up the steps first and found Bobby in a rage, pushing buttons and pounding on the helm when nothing seemed to work. “Where’s the goddamn anchor control?” he bellowed.

“I have no idea.”

Bobby turned to Da-Marr. “Is he lying?”

“He’s too chicken shit to lie.” He gave me a shove, but there wasn’t any heft behind it. He
was
on my side.

“We have got to find those fucking diamonds and get the hell off this boat fast or we’re going over the falls!” Bobby ranted.

“Falls?” Da-Marr asked with what sounded like panic.

“Don’t you know what’s up ahead? Niagara fucking Falls! You have heard of them, haven’t you? Or didn’t they teach you anything in your fucking ghetto school?”

Bobby did not know how to win friends and influence people — and if Da-Marr still had any doubts about his character, they’d been wiped out by that last statement.

Da-Marr lowered his head, his eyes blazing, reminding me of a bull about to charge.

“We have got to find those diamonds!” Bobby bellowed.

He grabbed me by the jacket and shook me. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying. Where. Are. They?”

Da-Marr was right. This guy was a nutcase. His blue eyes bore into me, but I answered truthfully. “I. Don’t. Know!”

He shoved me backward with savage force that sent me crashing against the fiberglass bistro table; then he pushed Da-Marr out of his way and nearly fell down the stairs in his haste to get below.

Da-Marr and I looked at each other; his eyes were filled with terror and I wondered if he could see the same emotion in mine. “What do we do now?” he asked.

“The life jackets are gone. Can you swim?”

Da-Marr shook his head. I’d had swimming class in high school, but all these years later could I do much more than tread water or dog paddle? The shore — either east or west — was a long way away.

The billiards chalk was still in my pocket. I took it out and rubbed it between my right thumb and forefinger, hoping it would give me some insight into Bobby.

“What are you doing with your hand?” Da-Marr asked.

“Don’t ask.”

The impression that burst upon my mind was different this time. It was a reversed image of Bobby, as he’d seen himself in a mirror in Jack Morrow’s game room. His expression was bland, but it was his eyes that consumed me. Inquisitive? No, calculating, As Morrow’s world had collapsed around him, Bobby had made a greater and greater effort to ingratiate himself with the older man. They’d sparred as they’d knocked colored and striped balls into the pockets of Morrow’s vintage billiards table, and Bobby’s admiration had fed Morrow’s faltering ego, something he’d badly needed at that time. And when Bobby had shown up on Morrow’s last night alive, the old man had never suspected that his last remaining sycophant had homicide in mind.

“What did Bobby tell you, that he was Morrow’s son and deserved a portion of what his father had worked for all his life?”