The Anteater of Death (27 page)

Another backfire from the
Texas Hold ’Em
. A splash nearby. Then another. Suddenly I was lying face down on the
Merilee
’s deck with my father on top of me. “What are you…?”

“Shut up and stay down! That was no backfire.” Before I could say anything else, he’d rolled me into the salon hatch, then tumbled us both down the stairs. Bonz and Priss scrambled after us then headed for the forward cabin, where they buried themselves under cushions.

“How good’s the motor?” my father hissed.

“The…the
Merilee
’s?” I picked myself up off the floor, but I was so frightened I could hardly speak. “It can barely t-turn over!”

With a curse, he grabbed my cell phone from the galley table and punched in 9-1-1. “Send a patrol car to Gunn Landing Harbor immediately! There’s a guy in the parking lot shooting at people. He almost hit someone on the
Merilee
at Slip 34, Teddy Bentley’s boat. Hurry!”

“Who shot…?”

He ignored me. “Cops are on their way, but it’ll take a while, so you need to hide.” With that, he dragged me into the aft cabin.

“There’s n-no place to hide in here.” My throat was so dry the words hardly made it through.

“That’s what you think.” I’d never heard his voice so grim.

Before I could protest, he ripped the mattress off the bunk, lifted up the teak platform underneath—which I’d always thought was nailed down—to reveal an empty space large enough for one person. “Get in!”

“But what about —?”

Before I could say “you,” he lifted me off my feet and threw me in. He slammed down the teak platform and replaced the mattress and bed coverings, leaving me in the dark. At first I feared I would suffocate, but then I realized there was a breathing hole next to me, probably hidden from the outside.

His voice was muffled but understandable. “Don’t make a sound until the cops get here. I’ll take care of this.”

I heard a familiar snickety-snick. It took me a minute to connect it to some of the cop shows I’d seen on TV, the sound of the slide being pulled back on an automatic handgun. I don’t know which shocked me the most: the fact that someone was shooting at us, or that the loving father who’d once read me bedtimes stories had just chambered a round.

“Dad? What’s —?”

“Theodora, shut up.”

Even I knew better than to argue with a man with a gun, so I shut up.

The hidey-hole was large enough not to be too uncomfortable, but my combination of fear, helplessness and guilt made it a misery. Fear because I didn’t want my father hurt, let alone killed. Helplessness because there was nothing I could do for him; I didn’t have so much as a hairpin to use for a weapon, only my bare hands. Guilt because I’d been so busy with the zoo, the murder investigation, and my financial problems that I’d forgotten the danger my father was in. If I’d been a better daughter, I would have insisted he stay away from the boat. And Caro’s house.

Caro!
Was she all right?

I heard a whimper and realized it was me.

I forced myself to remain silent. Whatever was happening to my father, he didn’t need the distraction of a weeping woman.

I don’t know how long I lay there, trying not to think, breathing stale air, rocking as the incoming tide lapped against the
Merilee
’s hull. I hoped the harbor was so crowded that the hit man wouldn’t attempt an outright gun battle. Then again, since he had already taken a couple of pot-shots at my father as he sunned himself on the
Merilee
’s deck, he was probably crazy enough to do anything.

That observation made me so uncomfortable that I stopped thinking.

When what seemed like hours had passed, and I heard footsteps approach the aft cabin, I stopped breathing, too. Whoever it was began to throw aside the bedclothes, the mattress. As the teak platform was yanked away, I tensed, not knowing what to expect. Was I about to die, or be set free?

After the darkness, the light that blazed into my space was dazzling. But not enough so that I couldn’t see my father’s face.

“Cops are here,” he said cheerily, over the sound of nearing sirens. “Now it’s my turn!” With that, he hauled me out of the hidey-hole and threw himself into it. “Don’t rat me out, Teddy,” he said, as I lowered the teak platform.

I made up the bunk as neatly as possible, considering the hurry I was in.

Footsteps on board. The harsh squawk of a police radio.

It sounded like an angel.

***

The police were milling around the deck when Joe muscled his way onto the
Merilee
, the alpha male snapping at runts. He briefed his men, barked a few more orders, then looked at me with gentled eyes. The anger he’d shown in my hospital room had vanished. “You okay, Teddy?”

“Never been better.” I tried a smile, but it wobbled at the corners.

When he put his arms around me, I pressed my head against his chest. “Oh, Joe.”

He held me a few moments more, then let me go too soon. “It’s too public up here. Let’s go below where we can talk in private.”

A crowd of liveaboarders, most of them having made their own frantic phone calls to 9-1-1, lined the dock. Snatches of their conversation drifted to me on the soft breeze.

“See, I told you those were gunshots.”

“Somebody almost killed her the other night, didn’t they?”

“What’s this harbor coming to?”

Over my protests, Joe hustled me into the salon and sat me at the galley table. “Who was it?”

I kept my eyes averted from the aft cabin, hoping my father wouldn’t sneeze or do anything else to give away his location. “I never saw the…the shooter, but like I told your deputies, it sounded like the shots came from the parking lot. It was probably the same guy who hit me on the head the other night.”

“That’s not what I meant. Who called 9-1-1 first? The dispatcher said the first call came from your cell phone, but that the caller was a man. I need to talk to him.”

When you can’t tell the truth, feign ignorance. “Huh?”

I didn’t like the look he gave me. “Who was here with you?”

Don’t look toward the aft cabin. Don’t look toward the aft cabin.
“I…I’m feeling faint. Can we go back topside so I can get some fresh air? Please?” Trying my best to act like a swoony Victorian maiden, I clutched at my breast and began to sway.

He didn’t buy my act. “Oh, come off it. A woman who jumps into bear pits to save a child doesn’t faint. So I’ll ask again. We know there was a man with you when the bullets started flying. Who was it?”

Since it hadn’t worked, I stopped my clutching and swaying. “Look, there was a guy with a gun out there, shooting. Not once but several times. I was terrified, so when I called 9-1-1 I was probably hoarse.” Remembering that the best defense was offense, I added, “What difference does it make what I sounded like, anyway? The important thing is that somebody shot at me. Aren’t you going to do anything about that?”

He rose from the table and walked into the forward cabin, where Bonz and Priss were still hiding under the cushions with only their tails protruding. He opened a few cabinets, poked around, and after finding nothing, walked to the aft cabin and repeated the process. Disappointed, he returned to the table. “He must have left.”

“Who left?”

“Your father.”

At that, I almost did faint. “Who?”

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“I don’t feel good. Please let me get some fresh air!” This time I wasn’t faking.

With a sigh, he led me back outside and over to a deck chair. “Sit down. Take deep breaths.” Then he leaned over me, put his lips to my ear, and whispered, “Have Daddy Dearest get the hell out of town, okay? I can’t keep pretending not to recognize him.”

***

As soon as the police left, I released my father from the hidey-hole, a dust bunny clinging to his hair. I brushed it away, then remade the bunk. “Sheriff Rejas says you’d better leave town.”

“Great minds think alike.” Now that it was safe, he sneezed. “By the way, I heard that entire conversation. What I can’t figure out is why, with your mother and me as parents, you’re such a bad liar.”

I let the insult pass. “You have a gun, don’t you?” I wondered if it was the same caliber as the one that had killed Barry Fields.

“Certainly I have a gun. I don’t exactly fill teeth for a living.” He frowned and brushed some dust off his windbreaker. “This’ll have to go to the cleaners.”

His easy dismissal of the danger we’d been in alarmed me further. “Please don’t go back to Caro’s. What if…?” Not being able to bear the thought of losing both of them, I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Finally acknowledging my distress, he put his arms around me. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. Or you. Apparently my idea that Chuckles wouldn’t think to look for me so close to home was wrong. After I leave here I’m going straight to Al’s sloop in Santa Cruz and I’ll stay there until I can leave the country again. But you know what I was thinking while I was hiding? We’re both taking it for granted that the shooter was one of Chuckles’ henchmen, but we may be off base there. Those guys are better shots. By the way, have you considered that some of the nonsense you told the sheriff might actually be true, that you were the target and not me?”

I sat down hard on the bunk. He was right. I’d been so concerned about what Chuckles might do to my father that I’d forgotten my own danger. But when I thought more about it, it seemed that both shots had been aimed straight at him. “Dad, sit down. It’s time for a serious talk.”

“If it’s about me, I’m not sure I’m up for anything more serious than a stiff drink.” Still, he sat down.

“Have you considered giving yourself up? Now that both the Feds
and
Chuckles Fitzgerald are after you, it might be the smartest thing to do. You could go into the Witness Protection Program.”

He shook his head. “I have no information to trade, ergo, no Witness Protection Program. The Feds would just slap me in a federal pen, where Chuckles has many, many friends. Before you could say ‘jailhouse rubout,’ I’d wind up in the laundry room with a shank in my back. I’ve got a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s obvious I’m going to have to blow town in the next couple of days, but you could come with me. That way we’d both be safe and we could have fun!”

I gulped. “Me in Cameroon?”

“The world’s a big place. As long as we keep moving, we wouldn’t have to stick to non-treaty countries. If Cameroon doesn’t turn you on, how about Prague? It’s beautiful in the spring.”

“Prague.” I gulped again.

“Or Iceland, where we could watch the Grimsvotn volcano erupt. If you don’t like ice, how about someplace warmer, like Venezuela?” A new energy filled his voice. “You’ve never been to Caracas, have you? Gorgeous weather year round, only twenty minutes from the beach, great theater and museums. We could ride the cable car up to the top of Mt. Avila and see the…”

“Dad, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’d miss my friends too much.”

“Friends like Roarke Gunn? Why, he’s a useless, lazy…”

“Lucy. Carlos. Bonz. Priss.”

“Oh. Your animals.”

“That’s right. My animals. I have a wonderful life here and I’m not going to leave it.”

“Then promise me one thing, Theodora.”

“What?”

“That you’ll stop snooping around. It might cut short your wonderful life.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-ONE

As soon as Dad left for Al Mazer’s sloop, I called Caro. “Who do you know with a private plane? Someone needs to take a trip.” Just in case the Feds were playing loosey-goosey with the wiretap laws again, I didn’t name names.

No fool, Caro caught on immediately. “There’s Cyril, I guess, but I don’t know if our relationship has progressed far enough for me to ask that kind of favor. Why, dear? Is our friend ready to go back home?”

I knew she’d find out soon enough what had happened on the
Merilee
. “Now don’t go getting upset or anything because nobody was hurt, but it looks like that funny guy from San Francisco has found him. Our friend was visiting today and, well, some gunfire was involved, but like I said, nobody was hurt.”

A strangled noise, then a quick throat-clearing. “I…I understand. A Lear jet, maybe, and a pilot who can keep secrets.”

“Yes, that’s necessary, too.”

“I’ll get back to you.” She rang off.

I tucked the cell phone into my pocket, and sat there for a moment, thinking about Joe. Why hadn’t he told me he already knew about my father being in town and spared me so much misery? The minute I asked myself the question, I knew the answer. He couldn’t. If he admitted he knew, he would have to do something about it. By pretending not to recognize my father, he could let him walk around a free man. The heaviness that had weighed down my heart since our hospital face-off went away.

I fished the cell back out of my pocket and began to punch in his number, but before I hit the fourth digit, I clicked off. This wasn’t a conversation for a cell phone, either. I’d wait for a while, then drive into San Sebastian and talk to him in person. We could have dinner someplace quiet, then—as we say at the zoo—let nature take its course.

To cool off, I went up on deck just in time to see Roarke and Frieda Gunn approaching the
Merilee
.

“Are you okay?” Roarke called. “We heard there was trouble down here.”

“Trouble’s over.”

After they’d stepped onboard, Frieda enveloped me in a hug, a gesture so unlike her that I was stunned. Had the maternal genes kicked in already? Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and like Roarke’s, her hair was mussed. “Teddy, with everything that’s happened, you simply can’t stay here by yourself. Why don’t you pack some clothes and come back with us to the
Tequila Sunrise
until things get sorted out? We have plenty of room.”

Moving onto the
Sunrise
might be hopping from the frying pan into the fire, so I thanked them for their concern and politely declined. “But I’m glad you came over, because there was something I wanted to ask you. Everyone’s always been curious as to why Grayson gave Barry the zoo director position. Did he ever explain why?”