Hostile Waters

by William Nikkel

  Which is what would likely happen.

  Considering.

  He sighed, giving in to resolve. Perhaps the best way would be to simply ask permission.

  And hope for a sympathetic ear.

  He waited for Robert to finish his phone call. When he laid his cell down, Jack asked, “How’s Kazuko?”

  Robert sighed. “Wondering when I’ll be home.”

  “Other than that?”

  “She had a fantastic week in Monterey.”

  “Does that mean vacation is over?”

  “She’s home. If that’s what you’re asking?”

  “I meant for you.”

  “I’d kind of like to stick around and find out if the manuscript exists.”

  “So you haven’t given up hope?”

  “That the pages exist? Hell, no. But when she asked what we intend to do with them, I got to thinking. This isn’t exactly finders-keepers. There’s the Fuentes family, Hemingway descendants, even the owner of Sloppy Joe’s to think about. Any one or all of them could lay claim to the manuscript.”

  “I thought it was more or less understood what we’d do with it. And the novella. In the past, we always made every effort to return whatever treasure we found to the rightful owner. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Never saw it any other way,” Robert said. “And I suppose that’s why the question never came up until she asked me.”

  “She worries. And that’s okay. Now, let’s figure out how we’re going to get into that back room.”

  “We’re not planning on keeping what we find, so why not just ask the bartender or manager for permission?”

  “I’ve been tossing around that same idea. But they might want to try to get their hands on the pages first. Can’t trust anyone these days.”

  “Wasn’t Hemingway the one who said you don’t know who you can trust until you trust them?”

  “Close. But more accurately: ‘The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.’ ”

  Robert shrugged. “So we trust them.”

  Jack nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Get into the dinghy before we change our minds.”

  They left the thirteen-foot Boston Whaler tied to the wharf and walked the now familiar two short blocks to Sloppy Joe’s. Jack tried to imagine finding the pages. Would he feel the power of Hemingway’s handwritten words the way Miguel had?

  Robert paused outside the entrance and said, “This is your show, so you do the talking.”

  Jack grinned. “Old buddy, I never figured it any other way.”

  He walked directly to the large horseshoe-shaped bar in the center of the room. Two bartenders—one on each side. The bartender working his side was female, tall, thirtyish, pretty, with dishwater blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He sidled up to the counter and took a seat. Robert joined him.

  “What can I get you?” Her green eyes flicked back and forth between them.

  Jack took notice of her nametag. “An ice cold Red Stripe.”

  “The same,” Robert said.

  She stepped away, and Robert chuckled. “A woman with green eyes and thick manicured eyebrows. I’m not sure if that’s good or not.”

  “How is me being a sucker for green eyes a problem?”

  “Just saying, that’s all.”

  She returned with their beers. “Can I get you something else?”

  Jack smiled. She did have nice eyes. “You can, Vicky. A small favor if you would. I’d like to speak to the manager, if that’s possible.”

  “The manager’s not here at the moment. Perhaps I can help?”

  “I believe you can. My friend and I would like to see inside your storage room in back.”

  She looked him up and down, then Robert. “I suppose you have a good reason?”

  He and Robert had decided he’d provide as much information as he felt was necessary to get them into that back room. Nothing more. “We believe a leather folder containing a rare, and quite possibly, valuable Hemingway manuscript has been stored in there.”

  Vicky glanced in the direction of the other customers seated at the counter a few stools away. “Excuse me a minute.”

  “Take your time,” Jack said as she stepped away.

  He went back to his beer.

  “Good morning,” a female voice said from behind him.

  He turned, and was surprised to see Lynn Hastings and another young lady smiling at him. Their cropped t-shirts and short shorts looked as though they had been sprayed on.

  “And a good morning to you. No more guy problems, I hope?”

  “Not since you handled those creeps the other day.” Lynn gestured toward her companion. “This is my friend, Sandi. When I saw you sitting here and pointed you out to her, she just had to meet my knight in shiny armor.”

  “Rusty armor, more like it.” He smiled at Lynn’s friend. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine. I can’t thank you enough for helping Lynn. I wish there were more guys like you.”

  He chuckled and jabbed a thumb at Robert, who sat watching. “Let’s not forget my friend Robert. He helped.”

  “Of course.” Sandi smiled. “You’re both wonderful. And I want you to know, you saved our vacation.”

  “Glad we were able to help,” Robert said.

  “So are we.” Lynn took Sandi’s hand. “Thanks again. Now, we’ll let you get back to your beers.”

  Jack faced the counter. “Nice, polite young ladies.”

  “And cute.”

  “That, too.”

  Vicky rejoined them and said, “You do know all of Hemingway’s belongings were removed from the storeroom by his wife decades ago?”

  Jack nodded. “In 1962, by his fourth wife, Mary Welsh. A pile of boxes he’d left in the back storeroom. We believe the folder containing the manuscript was put in there sometime after that.”

  “And you have good reason to think it’s still there?”

  “The only way to know for sure is to look.”

  “I guess it won’t hurt. Though I can assure you it’s a waste of time. I’ve worked here five years and have been all over that storeroom and haven’t seen anything that doesn’t belong.”

  “Then you don’t mind if we poke around in there and have a look for ourselves?”

  “I suppose not. For a minute or two, anyway.” She motioned with her head. “Back here.”

  Jack followed her into the storeroom and scanned the interior. Cases of beer, aluminum kegs and tappers, assorted bottles of liquor, open cardboard boxes of coasters and napkins, exactly what he expected to see.

  Robert stepped inside behind him and said, “I’m guessing the folder will be sealed inside a box of some sort. Wood or metal. Not cardboard. Probably labeled as belonging to Rafael Fuentes.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  Jack looked at Vicky. “Is this the only storeroom?”

  She glanced around. “Only one I know of.”

  He turned to Robert. “Take that side and I’ll take this one. Those pages have to be here somewhere.”

  Robert began pawing through his side of the room and Jack went to work on his. There were only so many places in the storeroom to look. He didn’t feel it would take long to locate the document if it was there. A big if. Especially given how much time had passed.

  Jack held onto hope as long as there was one more place to look. But after a couple of minutes, and with Robert coming up empty as well, he conceded the manuscript notes were not there. Not now, anyway.

  Were they ever?

  He had to wonder.

  It had been a longshot and he assured himself that they had not wasted their time.

  Their beers were sitting on the bar where they left them. They retook their seats in silence. Jack pondered the futility of their quest. Too much of a time lapse and too little information for them to work with. But enough to keep him interested.

  Vicky resumed her place behind the counter. “Sorry. But then you’d have had just as mu
ch luck catching a marlin the size of that one up there.”

  Jack followed her gaze to the massive fish mounted high on the wall behind her. And the brass plaque that read: In Memory of Papa. “Was that one of Hemingway’s prize catches?”

  “Can’t say. It was hanging there when I started work here.” She picked up Jack’s empty bottle. “Can I get you another Red Stripe?”

  He considered a second round and looked at Robert. “What do you think?”

  “That, my friend, is a double-ended question. Are you talking about not locating the documents or ordering another beer? If it’s the beer, why not? And you can tell me where we go from here.”

  “We’re still making it up as we go along.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Cherise worked the latch on the glass door, tugged the slider open, and pulled it closed behind her a fraction of a second after the front door to the condo cracked open.

  She bolted for the safety railing at the end of the deck.

  Timing meant everything.

  She covered the distance in four long strides, planted a foot on the railing, and leaped across the gap between balconies. She landed running. Two more strides and she reached the glass slider leading into Amanda’s condo.

  And gambled the door had been left unlocked.

  She grasped the handle and pulled.

  The door slid open with ease.

  Three more seconds and she would be in the clear.

  She slipped inside and pulled the slider closed. Thirty feet stood between her and the front door. A clear pathway, if she remembered correctly. The last thing she could afford was crashing into a piece of furniture in her haste.

  Now her successful getaway hinged on Amanda taking an extra minute or two to complete a walk-through of her brother’s condo to reassure herself that all was as it should be after the visit from the cleaning lady.

  She hurried to the front door, worked the knob, and stepped into the outside hallway a second before Amanda emerged from her brother’s place.

  She spun her head to the side and peered into Amanda’s startled expression.

  “There you are,” Cherise said, thinking fast. “I got to worrying about your comment that you didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. It bothers me that we might have, so I dropped by to apologize. Hopefully, we can start over.”

  Amanda appeared to calm. “I’ve already put the incident behind me.”

  “That makes me feel better.” Cherise motioned her hand toward Corey’s condo. “Is your brother back?”

  “Not until tomorrow. I just popped in to check on his place.”

  And found everything in order, I trust.

  Cherise figured it would be best to keep the conversation going to further avoid suspicion, but she also didn’t want to hang around a moment longer than absolutely necessary. They weren’t friends.

  And she had no desire to be.

  Regardless . . .

  She smiled. “No doubt you have things to do, so I’ll not bother you further.”

  “No bother. I’m glad you dropped by.”

  “Thank you,” Cherise said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. Have a good rest of your day.”

  She backtracked out of the building and walked to the corner of Worth Avenue and South Ocean Boulevard. Taking shelter in the shade of a trio of palm trees to escape the sun’s heat, she called for a taxi.

  Then she placed a call to Susan.

  * * *

  Cherise found Lindsey sitting at a table by the pool. She nervously flipped the pages of a magazine open in front of her. Not exactly looking like she was on vacation.

  “I figured I’d find you here,” Cherise said. “But I expected you to be in a swimsuit soaking up the sun.”

  Lindsey’s gaze came up and she tossed the magazine aside. “You knew I wouldn’t relax until you got back here. What did you find?”

  Cherise took a seat. “I didn’t locate the artifacts you father purchased. That would have been too much to ask for. But I did find a ticket in his name for a four-night cruise departing July 18th, returning July 22nd. And the trip had been booked through Dream World Travel.”

  “That’s this Thursday. You think he’s after another pigeon?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “But, so soon.”

  “Sad, isn’t it. We’ve learned just enough to know Corey Jameson lives large. It’s my feeling he doesn’t have the income necessary to support the lifestyle he’s grown accustomed to when he had his TV show, and subsidizes it with scams like the one he and Amanda pulled on your dad.”

  “That means the killing will continue until somebody stops them.”

  “That’s the long and the short of it.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I have to expose their scam so that a competent police detective will see them for the killers they are. And I need to do it in a way that the charges stick.”

  “How do you propose we do that?”

  “Not we. Amanda knows us. We’d be done before we started.”

  “Then who?”

  “We need to stick to what we suspect. Amanda’s the key. She sets up a romantic relationship with a likely mark. Then Corey moves in to finish the con and see to it the poor guy is not around to testify against them.”

  “Meaning we need a man smart enough and crafty enough to beat them at their own game.”

  Cherise knew several good, hard men who would be eager to help her. Tough, experienced soldiers. Men who could assault a fortified villa and rescue a hostage.

  This was not one of those situations.

  She said, “I know just the person.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Jack took a gulp of his Red Stripe and stared at the bottle. “I guess there’s no reason for us to waste any more time looking for those papers. If you ask me, Rafael Fuentes fabricated the entire story just to screw with Antonio.”

  “A nasty trick if he did,” Robert said. “But Antonio believed him.”

  “Doesn’t make it so. Still, if there is an element of truth to the story, there’s a chance those notes will surface sometime down the line. It just won’t be us bringing them to light.”

  “You’re just feeling hit,” Robert said. “What you need is to think about something else for a while.”

  “What I need is to get this boat registered and back to Oahu.”

  “And forget about finding Hemingway’s manuscript?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “And you can do that?”

  Jack shrugged, lifted his bottle to his lips, and said, “Sure I can.”

  Robert chuckled. “Right.”

  “O ye of little faith.” Jack heard his phone chime. He slid his cell from his pocket, saw Cherise’s name, and tapped on. “Perfect timing. How are things going with you and Lindsey?”

  “Sounds like you’re in good humor,” Cherise said. “Linds and I are getting along just fine. But I’ve hit a snag regarding her father.”

  He hadn’t forgotten about Sam King. “What do you mean by ‘snag’?”

  “I hear music. You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

  “That’s nothing. Robert and I are entertaining ourselves with an early beer at Sloppy Joe’s. Go ahead and talk.”

  She summarized the events of the past couple of days and he listened, sober faced. Parts were repetitious of what she’d already told him. But when she began talking about breaking into Corey Jameson’s condo, he paid close attention. Several times he wanted to interrupt and ask questions, but resisted the urge. That was how she operated. She thrived on danger.

  He’d not second-guess her.

  Yet.

  When she finished bringing him up to date, he asked, “And you think I’m the ideal person to be the pigeon in your little scheme?”

  “Can you think of someone better?”

  He wanted to chuckle. “What fun would there be in that? But do you honestly believe I’m the best choice to pull th
is off?”

  “Trust me, Jack. You have the background and the experience to handle yourself if something goes wrong. Plus, women are attracted to you.”

  “Meaning I’m a ladies man?”

  “I think we both know the answer to that.”

  “And you think that’ll be enough?”

  “Believe me, I can’t imagine anyone else I know being able to pull off what I’m proposing.”

  “Shouldn’t I give some thought to my answer before I give it?”

  “You can. But understand, you were my first and only choice.”

  Am I really the right person to make this work?

  Or will I let Cherise and her friend down?

  There was a lot to consider.

  He thought about all the reasons not to get involved. But if Cherise was correct, the killing would continue, and he couldn’t accept the guilt of knowing he could have helped prevent even one more person from dying, and didn’t.

  There’s only one choice.

  “All right, you can count on me. But we need to meet and discuss how you plan to pull off this charade of yours.”

  “How about meeting us up here in Palm Beach?”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow? Sooner, if you can. The cruise ship sails Thursday.”

  “Three days to prepare.” He thought about what they would be up against. “You think that’s enough time?”

  “It’ll have to be.”

  “We’ll make it work. I’ll check flights and let you know.”

  “Thanks for helping. With you on board, I feel we at least have a chance. I’ll rent us a car, and Lindsey and I will pick you up at the airport. I assume Robert’s coming with you. Be great if he did. He and Lindsey can keep each other company.”

  “Can’t say for sure he will until he and I talk.”

  “I understand completely. Talk to you soon.”

  * * *

  Back aboard the Adeona, Jack and Robert sat on the deck aft of the cockpit. A bright blue canvas awning stretched tightly between stainless steel runners provided shade from the unrelenting afternoon sun. A cool breath of Gulf breeze fluttered the canvas overhead before moving past. They nursed cold bottles of lager and kept their voices down as they talked.