“You’ve been surfing your iPad again.”
Robert shrugged.
They made it two blocks. Jack’s chest and armpits were soaked. Getting to that cold beer kept him walking, until he saw three punks hassling a young lady in the alley behind the Hard Rock Café. One of the assholes stomped the girl’s cell phone. Another groped her ass and laughed. The third held on to her arm, preventing her from running away.
“Dammit,” he said. “And I was having such a good day.”
Robert frowned. “Sir Galahad to the rescue.”
“The woman clearly wants to be left alone.”
“Looks like those assholes have a different idea.”
“We can’t stand here and not help her.”
“Told you you’d get me into trouble.”
Jack glanced back at him. “Stay here and watch, if you like.”
“And let you have all the fun, no way.”
Jack approached the men. College aged. Young and stupid. “I think you boys have had enough fun. Time to leave the young lady alone.”
“Butt out, old man.” The smallest of the three punks squared off at him. Always the small one with something to prove to his bigger buddies backing him up.
Jack didn’t necessarily want to hurt these guys, but he didn’t want to dance with them, either. “Walk away and call it good. Your friends, too.”
“Fuck off.”
Had the situation been more serious, Jack would have finished Big Mouth off already, along with the guy’s two friends. Their hormones and the drinks they had downed got the best of them. He wanted to give the dudes every chance to walk away.
“Last chance. It’s hot out here. You’ve obviously been drinking and I don’t have time for any bullshit from you.”
The other two punks joined Big Mouth and all three of them squared off with him and Robert. Shirtless to the right and Big Red to the left.
Dance time.
Big Mouth attempted a kick to the groin.
Jack expected the move, turned just enough, and took the blow on his thigh. At the same time he grabbed Big Mouth’s ankle, pulled him in close, and hammered a hard right to the guy’s nose.
His punch smashed cartilage and bone amid a gush of blood and put the loud-mouthed asshole down on his butt.
Shirtless telegraphed a roundhouse right that Jack ducked under.
The guy needed boxing lessons.
Jack answered with a right to the gut, followed by a left jab to the side of the jaw. The guy wobbled and Jack put him down with a hard right cross to the chin.
Jack hadn’t forgotten about the third guy.
He pivoted, ready to take on the big red head.
But that wasn’t necessary.
Robert stood over him, massaging his hand.
Three down.
“Hurt yourself?” Jack asked.
“Just my knuckles. What do we do with them?”
“I have an idea. Give me a hand.”
Shirtless lay on his side, out cold. Big Mouth sat staring about through glassy eyes blank as slate and would likely remain that way for some time. Big Red didn’t appear to be in any better shape than Shirtless.
“In there.” Jack hefted Big Mouth over his shoulder.
He carried the guy’s slack body to the dumpster at the rear of the Hard Rock Café and heaved him in. Robert did the same with Big Red, and Jack went back for Shirtless.
With the three punks laying limp among the scraps of food and other garbage, Jack walked over to the young lady. Robert followed at his side. She hadn’t run off. He was glad of that.
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I like what you did.”
Jack glanced at the dumpster. “Just taking out the trash.”
She hugged herself tight across her breasts. “They deserved it.”
“What’s your name? That’s our price for helping a damsel in distress.”
“Lynn Hastings. I really can’t thank you enough.”
Robert scooped up the remains of Lynn’s phone and handed the pieces to her. “Are you going to be all right now? Do we need to call someone for you?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be okay once I have a chance to calm my nerves. I’m down here with a girlfriend. She’s back at the room. We’re staying at the Casa 325. It’s not more than a half block from here.”
“Then we’ll leave you to your friend,” Jack said. “Don’t let this little incident spoil your vacation.”
“I’ll try not to.” She smiled. “Thank you . . . both of you.”
They watched her walk away. Several people had stopped. How long they’d been standing there and how much they had witnessed, Jack didn’t know. But they all carried smartphones.
No doubt a ton of pictures would show up on social media.
Or already had.
He clapped Robert on the back and said, “Let’s get that beer before something else happens.”
CHAPTER 22
When the two policemen wearing uniform shirts, matching shorts, gun belts, cuffs, and two-way radios stepped into Sloppy Joe’s, Jack and Robert were seated at a table. They sipped their beers as though nothing had happened.
Jack looked at Robert. “I think we have company.”
“Probably here to talk to us.”
“Suspect so.”
The two officers scanned the room before walking over. The cop standing to Jack’s right, towered over his partner who stood close to six feet tall. The taller cop said, “We need to talk to you two about the incident up the street.”
Not any incident. The incident.
Jolly Green knew they were involved and knew there was no question in their minds which incident he referred to. There had been plenty of witnesses, and just as likely, plenty of pictures taken by bystanders’ smartphones.
Jack asked, “Did you talk to the young lady those punks assaulted?”
“We did. The three guys you dumped in the trash bin, too. And now we’re talking to you.”
“Are any charges being pressed?”
Jack knew the drill. He dug out his Hawaii driver’s license before being asked and handed it to the officer. Robert did the same. Jolly Green glanced at the IDs and passed them to his partner who stepped back and radioed in.
“You worked over those three guys pretty good. The one whose nose you smashed is on the way to the hospital.”
“We gave them every chance to leave the young lady alone. The short one thought he was tough. He started the altercation with us.”
The shorter cop returned to the table, still holding on to the licenses. “You’ve had a few run-ins with law enforcement.”
“Jack has,” Robert said. “Not me.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Jack looked up at the officer’s nameplate. “Officer Harper, I’m sure you also know, none of those incidents resulted in charges being filed.”
“But you seem to get involved in questionable situations, which is of interest to me and my partner.”
Jack glanced into the eyes of each officer. Both cops studied him with expectant expressions. Possibly sizing him up, pushing a few buttons to see what kind of response they would get.
A game he didn’t want to play. “Why would that interest you?”
Jolly Green—Zackary from the nameplate pinned above the breast pocket of his uniform—said, “We don’t want any problems. Once Hemingway Days is in full swing, we’ll have plenty to handle without adding to them now.”
Jack had no problem playing law-abiding citizen. “What you’re saying is you want us to promise to be good boys and not get in any more fights. I can assure you, we’ll do our best.”
“See that you do.” Harper handed back their licenses and motioned his partner out.
“That was fun,” Robert said when the officers left the bar.
Jack stared at the open entryway. A group of twenty-somethings broke out in laughter on the sidewalk out front a second before stepping inside. “I’m surprised they didn’t get
around to us sooner.”
Robert tapped the rim of his glass against Jacks. “Here’s to being good boys.”
Jack drained half his beer. “What do you say we take a couple of thick steaks and a six-pack of ice cold Red Stripe out to the Adeona and watch the sunset from her upper deck?”
“You do own the boat so we might as well make use of her. After today, I could use a quiet evening.”
Jack felt the same.
But he still had a text to send before he could let go of the day. He just wished he had more to pass on to Cherise. Surely she would know he and Robert had done the best they could. And feel fortunate to have the information Ned had given them. It had been a stroke of luck to run into the man.
He knew it. Robert knew it.
If Sam King had bought into a con, he’d done so quietly.
CHAPTER 23
Cherise felt the need to walk. Jack’s text gave her more to think about. One more piece to fit into a puzzle she was beginning to put together.
She met Lindsey at Toscana 49—classic Italian cuisine in a quiet atmosphere—seven blocks from the Grand Hyatt and one block from the Waldorf Astoria.
They settled into a back booth and each ordered a glass of red wine.
“I heard from Jack,” she said. “He talked to a man who puts your dad with Amanda and her brother at the Mel Fisher Museum. It’s not much but we at least confirmed they went ashore together.”
“So they had become pretty good friends by then?”
“At the very least, Amanda and Corey wanted your dad to think they were.”
“Those two didn’t waste any time, did they?”
“They only had a few days. Did you get the time off you asked for?”
“All next week. My supervisor was totally understanding.”
The waiter arrived with their wine. Cherise watched him set the glasses on the table.
He asked, “Are you ready to order dinner now?”
She shook her head. “We’ll need a few minutes.”
Lindsey studied her. “You have something else on your mind. I can tell. Is everything okay?”
Cherise sipped, taking time to answer. “I did some digging today.”
“All right. But this is Linds you’re talking to. Something’s eating at you. What is it?”
Cherise knew she couldn’t move forward without being totally open about her concerns. And Lindsey was demanding it.
“There is something bothering me. I make it a point to know as much as I can about my cases. Normally I don’t take clients along with me on a job. Too risky. I’m making an exception for you for old time’s sake. But there might be a time when I need you to stand down and let me handle things, whatever that might entail.”
Lindsey gripped the stem of her glass and peered into her wine. All at once her casual smile crumpled. “You’re saying you don’t want me along?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I’m worried about you.”
“That I’ll get hurt?”
“Physically . . . there’s certainly that possibility. But you could also be hurt mentally. I don’t want that, either.”
“I thought the matter was settled. That you understood how I felt.”
Cherise peered into her friend’s eyes. “You made it quite clear you want revenge. I get that. And I have no qualms about seeing that you get what you’re after. But we can’t without knowing for sure that Amanda and Corey are responsible. We need to go slow, work the angles. It could take time.”
“How much time?”
“There’s no way for me to know that going in.”
“But they are responsible. We both agreed on that. How long can it take to pry the truth out of them?”
“Pry the truth out of them is an interesting choice of words.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Corey and Amanda are a starting point. When you said pry, you were closer to the truth than you might realize. Because that is exactly what we could end up having to do. And bear in mind, some people don’t pry as easily as others. Getting them to open up could be unpleasant. Are you prepared for that?”
“I thought with you helping me, it would be easy.”
“That’s why I had second thoughts about having you along. Now that I’ve laid everything out for you, do you still want to play? Or would you rather I handle this problem personally and provide you with a nice tidy box full of answers sealed with a pink ribbon?”
Lindsey looked like someone slapped her. “Now you’re being nasty.”
“That’s not my intention, Linds. I’m just giving you the option to watch from the sidelines and still get what you’re after.”
“My mind hasn’t changed. I grew up not knowing the love of a father. Then I found Dad. Now someone has taken him away from me. Damn right I want them to pay. And I want to be there when they do.”
“Even if you have to settle in for the long haul?”
“No matter how long it takes.”
“And you’ll follow orders without question?”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to see this through.”
Cherise nodded to herself. “That’s what I needed to hear. Let’s order and I’ll fill you in on what I’ve found out.”
“You got the information from Susan?”
“That’s not all.”
CHAPTER 24
Cherise closed her menu. A silent signal to the waiter they were ready to order. Lindsey did the same. “Disappointed?” Cherise asked.
Lindsey stared. “In what? You made no promises. Only that we’d try. We’re doing that.”
Their waiter appeared. “What may I get for you?”
“Linds?” Cherise said.
Clearly preoccupied, Lindsey said, “Go ahead.”
Cherise turned to the waiter and took it upon herself to order for both of them. “We’ll have the green salad and the spaghetti carbonara. And bring us two more glasses of wine, please.”
The waiter left the table, and Cherise looked at Lindsey. “You are disappointed.”
“I’m not, really.” Lindsey drained her glass. “I just wish Dad would call and say he’s all right.”
“But you know that’s not going to happen?”
“That’s what makes me sad. . . . And angry.”
“I understand how you feel. As you know, I’ve been there myself.”
Lindsey didn’t answer.
Cherise’s concern for her friend resurfaced. She wished she was able to lend comfort. Find the right words. Share the pain. But she had buried her own feelings of loss and had no desire to dig them up and air them out.
Nothing would be gained.
For now, she needed to stop worrying. Lindsey had survived the military. She could survive this.
“Linds. Are you with me?”
Lindsey blinked. “I apologize. My feelings got the best of me for a second. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay to have feelings, Linds. But we need to stay focused in order to make this work.”
“You’re right. And I am. What did Susan have to say about Amanda and Corey?”
“First, I want to tell you about my afternoon. I visited the American Museum of Natural History hoping to get some idea what these relics are all about. I spoke to a man by the name of Pacal Balam. A professor of Central American History. They’re Mayan Deities. Gods of death and the underworld. According to him, solid gold idols such as these do not come on the market often. When they do, most of them have been looted from archeological sites across Central and South America, much of it from the Yucatan. He hinted that they’re cursed.”
Lindsey sipped her wine. “Do you believe that?”
“Not at all. But I’m sure some people out there do.”
“Maybe those ugly little things are cursed. It could explain what happened to Dad.”
“The only curse those idols possess is that they’re valuable.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“A gallery owner estimated they were worth around a hundred thousand each. He wouldn’t pay that much for them, of course. But he did offer me twenty-five percent over gold value. That’s still a lot of money.”
“Dad would know that. And I’m sure Corey and Amanda did, too. What did the background report tell us about them?”
“Susan included complete financials on both which saved time. Amanda is thirty-two years old. She’s an independent chartered accountant. Single. Never married. Father’s deceased. So are the grandparents. She specializes in saving failed companies by eliminating unnecessary expenditures. Quite a reputation, according to the internet. She has a high six-figure bank account and lots of credit. There were no suspicious transactions that I saw.”
“What about Corey?”
“He’s thirty-eight and a TV celebrity. He had his own reality series till a couple of years ago. A fishing show where he traveled the world catching monster fish. Canceled after a couple of seasons. That’s probably where he got his tan. Now he’s working in advertising—endorses fishing and sports equipment. As it turns out, Corey is Amanda’s half-brother. And he has an arrest record for second-degree assault. A three-year-old case out of West Palm Beach. Pled no contest to a misdemeanor charge and received a year’s probation.”
Lindsey frowned. “That says something about him.”
“Perhaps. But it depends on the circumstances surrounding the case.”
“Still, it tells me he’s not the nice guy you’d expect him to be.”
Cherise shook her head, not wanting to jump to conclusions even though she found it difficult not to. “At the very least, I think it’s safe to assume he exhibited a predisposition for violence.”
“Like murder?”
“He might just be an asshole actor with a temper.” Cherise paused in thought, then added, “Then again, he could be a sociopath with no qualms about committing murder. All we can really say about him is he appears to enjoy living the high life. His bank account fluctuates drastically from month to month. Lots of credit card expenditures at restaurants and clubs. But I didn’t see any recent deposits that would correspond with the sale of the idols.”
Hostile Waters Page 8