Shell Game (20 page)

“Ms. Garibaldi took ill. Miss Kramer will be purchasing the shares for her grandmother.”

“Hmm. County Records frown on handwritten changes to transfer documents.”

“I know,” Gloria said. “But she’s such a nice lady. Don’t you think this once…”

The associate shifted his focus from her to George. George barely bobbed his chin, but that seemed to be all the reassurance Panama Hat needed. “All right. Let’s get these out.”

Sharla crossed out Nana’s name, printed her own, then initialed the change and handed it to George for his initials. Herbie gave the papers a cursory glance, though Sharla knew he was looking for one thing. The incriminating legal description of the land the con artists had no right to sell. She knew he’d found it when he nodded and flipped more quickly through the remaining pages.

Holding the bag of money in her lap, tightly secured with one hand, Sharla shifted every time someone walked by. Herbie was the first to sign the pile of papers. Mr. Panama Hat stamped each page with what she assumed to be some sort of notarizing authority. Normally she would have asked, but, since she already knew the deal wasn’t legit, what was the point.

According to the original plan, Luke was supposed to be watching from somewhere. Knowing he was nearby gave her an unexpected sense of calm. She could only hope that her grandmother hadn’t needed him to stay with her. At this point she didn’t know what had her more unsettled: this crazy scheme they’d gotten involved in, not being sure if Luke was nearby as planned or wondering how Nana was doing.

* * *

Sophia exited the elevator and turned down the hall. Walking past an older couple moving slower than molasses in winter, she waited for them to turn the corner before sliding on the pair of gloves she’d pilfered from the medical center downstairs and stopped at 720. A suite.
Of course
. Pulling the keycard from her pocket, she slid it into the door, pushed down the handle and shoved the door open.

“And we’re in.” She loved it when a plan came together. Taking the card had been a last-minute impulse, but, as her daddy always said, when Providence hands you an opportunity, grab it with both hands. She glanced around the cabin. Somewhere in here there had to be information she could use to help recoup the fifty thousand dollars taken from Herbie’s brother-in-law. Everyone else was welcome to sit back and let the Feds handle restitution. Not Sophia Garibaldi.

“Wish you could be here, Benny. This is a fun one. Did you notice the way I got the card? Dumb woman was so busy playing happy tourist at every shop window to keep me from skipping out on them, she never noticed when I lifted the pouch with the keycard. Really dumb.”

Not really expecting to find anything in the drawers, handbags or stowed luggage, Sophia went after the cabinet safe. Digital was a bit more challenging but not impossible. She tried the first code she’d settled on. Nothing. Then the next and another. So maybe George was a little smarter than Sophia had given him credit for. Shuffling through the data in her mind that Luke had shown them on the two hustlers, Sophia tried all the possible codes for George and moved on to Gloria. Three tries later Sophia hit pay dirt with the date when the flashy redhead had graduated high school.
Interesting
.

Inside, right on top, a couple thousand in cash. Not what she would have expected from a guy playing high roller. But it was something the Feds could confiscate now. Under the money she found bank deposit slips. “Well, this is more like it.” No wonder he didn’t have a lot of cash on him. One slip came from the First National Bank of the Netherland Antilles, St. Maarten. The ship’s most recent stop. A deposit of twenty-five thousand. Chump change. Available balance.
Bingo
. Over three-quarters of a million dollars. Resisting the urge to do a happy dance, she put the receipt on the table and snapped a couple of photos. If the Feds didn’t follow through on this, she knew some people who could. She took two more snapshots, careful to zoom in on the account numbers and the names on each. “I’ll be damned.”

Returning her attention to the safe, she lifted a stack of passports.
Oh, what fun
. Passports for Antonio and Gloria Montanaccio.
Interesting
. Passports for George and Gloria Bailey. British passports for Archibald and Thelma Brisbane.
Very interesting
. Underneath everything, a faded manila envelope the size of a half sheet of paper was the last thing in the small safe. Carefully she opened the lip and let the contents slide onto the counter. Staring at the folded pieces of colorful paper, it took her a few minutes to piece together that she’d just discovered the mother lode. Five-thousand-dollar bearer bonds issued in 1978.
What kind of nut carries these things around on vacation
? Counting quickly she came up with fifteen bonds totaling seventy-five thousand dollars. Her cheeks tugged upward in a tight grin. “Imagine that.”

* * *

Still worried about her grandmother, Sharla set her phone on the table and hoped someone would call or text her soon that Nana was all right. She’d signed the first two pages when the phone rang.

“Excuse me,” she said to Mr. Panama Hat who looked none too happy at the interruption. As a matter of fact the deep-set creases between his bushy brows made his gaze look downright menacing. “Hello?… Oh, Nana… Mmm-hmm… Mmm-hmm… Yes… Okay. I love you too.”

“How is she?” Gloria asked.

“In our room, lying down and feeling much better.”

“Good. So glad to hear it.”

The associate tapped his finger on the next page, and Sharla resumed her signing.

Nana had apologized for leaving her alone and gave her a quick reminder of Nana’s part in the plan. Nana was supposed to let the authorities know the transaction was complete by tugging on her ear. When Sharla signed the last page, she dropped the pen on the page and tugged. Waited. And nothing.

Something wasn’t right. Weren’t the good guys supposed to swoop in now and save the day? As casually as she could she glanced around the café, searching the faces of the patrons, the waiter, the cashier, wondering if any had the face of the local police or FBI.

“Miss.” The man tapped the table again. “If you will discreetly hand me the bag, we’ll verify the funds.”

Oh, brother
. In her anxiousness to be done, she hadn’t realized she was still clutching the beach bag stuffed with more money than she’d probably ever see in one place in her lifetime.

“Yes.” George grinned at her. “Then you’ll be on the ground floor of one of the biggest new development projects San Juan has seen in decades.”

Sliding the bag across the table, Sharla looked around again and tugged at her ear.

“Are your ears bothering you, honey? I have some drops I use when I travel. You never know what’s going to hit you in a strange place.” Gloria dug through her purse, paused, frowned and began removing things one by one, placing them on the table.

“What are you doing?” George asked.

“My ship’s pouch is gone.”

George leaned over her shoulder and looked at the empty bag.

“My key pass is in there. I can’t get back on the ship without it.”

“Or into the room,” George added, turning to Herbie and Sharla.

Once again Sharla reached for her ear. Before she could tug, the sound of a chair scraping against the tile floor struck her at the same time the pressure of a strong weight crushed her throat.

“It’s a setup.” In a single move, Mr. Panama Hat had slung the bag of money over his shoulder and pulled Sharla hard against him. One arm strangling her against him, the other held a gun to her temple.

Oh, God.

“She doesn’t have an earache,” the gunman growled, “she’s signaling someone.”

The sound of a woman’s scream blended with more chairs scraping and shoes tapping hurriedly on the floor. The cashier stood but didn’t move. The waiter shoved the screaming lady and her husband behind an overturned table.

“Al,” George said in a huff, “are you crazy?”

“Tell me where’s Gloria’s keycard?”

“Some kid picked her pocket.” For the first time, George looked truly panicked. Color drained from his cheeks and beads of sweat appeared along his hairline. “Jesus, man.”

“George. No one’s been near me except…” Gloria looked around before her gaze settled coldly on Sharla.

“I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.” Herbie raised his hands, palms open, to the man squeezing Sharla’s throat more tightly.

Stars began to play in front of her eyes. She clutched at his arm trying to pull it free. Somewhere in the back of her mind, all the self-protection rules Danny had taught her slowly unfolded. At the awkward angle Mr. Panama Hat held her, she didn’t dare try any of them. Not without fear he’d shoot someone else. If only she could get her foot closer to his.

“Take it easy. The young lady can’t breathe.” Clearly enunciated in a low, calming tone, Herbie sounded like one of those negotiators on TV.

She only hoped he was as good.

“Why don’t you let her go, and we’ll talk.”

Gloria eased backward, closer to the door. George seemed to be contemplating the same, when Mr. Panama Hat shifted his weight and turned slightly. “No one goes anywhere.”

Herbie tried again to reason with the guy, but his grip on Sharla’s throat didn’t ease up.

When Gloria took another step backward, Mr. Panama yelled, “One more move and I’ll shoot.”

The cool feel of the metal against her temple gave way to a faint blow of warm air as his arm flung straight out, pointing the gun at Gloria. This was Sharla’s chance. Hoping the trick worked as well in sandals as in high heels, she slammed her heel down hard onto Mr. Panama’s instep.

A loud crack ripped through the small café. That same woman let out another scream. The weight on Sharla’s neck fell away. The waiter bolted to the door, grabbing Gloria. The cashier hurtled over the counter, tackling George. And Mr. Panama Hat lay dead on the floor. A bullet hole between his eyes.

* * *

From his rooftop perch Luke had had a clear shot aimed at George’s alleged partner. The last barrier between nabbing the cons and enjoying the rest of his vacation with Sharla. He’d noticed the way the character had started eyeing her. Fidgeting more as she played with her phone. Each time she tugged on her ear, the guy grew increasingly agitated. Luke had come within seconds of breaking his position to call and tell her to stop that.

The agent posted on the corner overrode her signal when he got closer to the door and saw the money still hadn’t changed hands. Luke’s contacts inside the café couldn’t budge until the local authorities moved. And then the son of a bitch did the last stupid thing in his life: he used Sharla for a human shield.

Luke would gladly shoot him down again if he could.

The rifle still in his hand, he bolted down the stairs and across the empty street, every second thanking God that Sharla wasn’t the one with a bullet in her head. Rushing through the open doorway, he stopped at the first face he recognized and handed off the weapon. “Thanks, man.”

“Glad I came. Didn’t expect this.”

“We never do.” Not really listening to what his friend was saying, Luke scanned the room quickly.

The locals had George and Gloria in handcuffs. Gloria was spitting and snarling as she and George were escorted off the premises. Frenchy and another man Luke didn’t recognize were already rendering aid, assisting frightened patrons out from their hiding spots behind tables and counters, and gathering the ship’s passengers to one side.

In the opposite corner from where they’d sat signing papers, Sharla stood curled in Herbie’s arms.

Whatever his FBI friend was still saying to him didn’t register. “Excuse me.” Luke needed to get across the room. Now.

“I called her grandmother.” Herbie let his arm fall away from around Sharla. “Sophia should be here any second.”

Luke reached around and tugged Sharla against him. No triumph in the field had ever left him as elated as the moment when Sharla was free from the asshole with a gun. And even that paled in comparison to having her in his arms now. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe it.” She leaned into him.

Neither could he. The idea of what would have happened to her, of what else could have gone wrong—if his FBI contact hadn’t come himself with two of his best guys or hadn’t arranged a rifle for Luke—made his blood pressure soar. Even now, holding her safely in his arms, his heart still pounded furiously against his ribs. He could have lost her.

The ship’s officer Luke didn’t recognize sat at a table with the handful of passengers from the ship and a local policeman. Crime scene guys and more officers from the ship filed in. Frenchy came and stood beside Herbie.

“I regret this unfortunate incident.” Frenchy turned to face Sharla. “But I see you are in good hands. If there is anything we can do to be of assistance…” He let his words hang.

Sharla gave a halfhearted nod.

“Thank God.” Arms open wide, Sophia came hurrying in, wrapping herself around her granddaughter and Luke. “I knew George and Gloria weren’t a problem. I should have stuck around to check out the other guy. I’m so sorry, honey.”

For a long while no one moved. Finally Sophia stepped back to face Luke. “Tell your friends, when they interrogate those two, that Gloria’s either the brains or sticking it to Good Old George.”