by Dakan
9
"That's the plan anyway. But would you explain that to Chloe for me?"
"What is Chloe doing tonight, anyway?" Sandee asked. "I was hoping to get her to come out with me and check out the new help at the Hyatt."
"She's busy getting everything set up for our visitors. She's kind of freaking out about all the little details."
"Oh my, are they coming in tonight? I thought that was next week."
"Nope, it's tonight."
"Well, I guess I won't be seeing too much of you three anytime soon."
"We'll see," said Paul. "I'll try and swing things and introduce you around. It's still kind of a big mystery as to why they're coming here in the first place, so we'll have to wait and see how things play out."
"I understand, sweetie. And hey, if you can, bring some of them by The Party. I'll show them a good time."
Paul leaned forward and gave Sandee a quick kiss on the cheek. "Ok, I'll let you know. Have fun."
"You too," replied Sandee. "But not too much fun unless I'm there."
"We'll see," said Paul.
Sandee looked past Paul's shoulder and grinned. "Look who's back."
Paul turned to see a squat, bald man in his early 60s bearing down on him. He gave Paul a crooked smile full of yellow teeth as he slapped him on the back. "What's up, friend. Long time no see!"
"Bernie!" said Paul, turning to the old man and shaking his hand. "Where the fuck have you been? I heard Miami PD picked you up!"
"Nah, nah, nothing that dramatic," Bernie said, shaking his had. "I just had some family shit to take care of up in Coral Gables. Pain in my wrinkled old ass, I tell you. But I'm back."
"That's great, man. Actually I'm glad I ran into both of you here. It means I don't have to track down Cuban Eddie." Bernie was a fun-loving old man who loved, loved, loved strip clubs. He financed this expensive habit by selling air purifiers on eBay and growing high quality dope in his house, most of which he sold to strippers and bartenders. Cuban Eddie was a 70-year-old coffee shop owner who was his main competition among the local bar and restaurant workers.
"Pffft, that old bastard? You are lucky I came back when I did. What do you need, sport?"
"We got The Party going tonight," said Paul.
"The party's always going when I'm around," interjected Bernie.
"Yeah, of course; that's the point, right? But it's rotated to the Crawford place tonight. And since you're here, you can make the delivery yourself, and I don't have to get someone to run the shit over from The Cuban."
Bernie raised his drink in salute to Paul, "Your wish is my command. How's about three hours?"
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"Whenever's good for you, Bernie. Just check in with Sandee when you get there." That was some good news anyway. Things always went well when Bernie was in the house.
Bernie blew Sandee a kiss. "Will do. Mind if I join you two for a drink? I wanna tell y'all about this wild club I went to while I was up in Miami..."
Just then Paul's pocket started singing The Clash's, "I Fought the Law."
"Hold on a sec," Paul said. He scooped the phone out and saw "KW Tele-market" on the caller ID. He sighed as he answered, "Hey, Bee, what's up?"
"It's Chloe," said Bee, her voice tight and nervous. "She needs you."
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Chapter 02
THE classic Key West-style house just off Fleming looked much like the rest of the residences on the block -
two-story wooden frame walls and peaked roofs with shallow porches nearly butting up against the sidewalk.
Chloe's rusting blue Vespa was tucked away beside the house, in the narrow space separating it from the neighbors. To anyone walking by outside, everything looked quiet and peaceful.
Inside, Chloe was pissed. Everything had been going great and then those stupid fuckers had decided to show up a week early, forcing her to scramble to pack a week's work into a single day. She wore a black bandana wrapped around her head, covering her buzz cut pink hair. Numerous smudges of dirt on her cheeks and the tip of her nose testified to the heavy-duty cleaning she'd been doing for the past five hours. She wore loose fitting shorts and a tight-fitting tank top that had once been white. In her bare feet she pushed a mop across the hardwood floors, grumbling to herself.
She heard the door open and looked up to see Paul standing in the doorway. Even though it wasn't his fault, she glared at him as he came in. As much as Chloe liked a clean house, she hated housework, and this wasn't even her house. This particular space was sparsely decorated with just a few worn pieces of furniture and some bad condo art on the walls. After six months of being sealed up tight with the air conditioner off, it smelled of dust and mildew and needed a good airing out.
"What are you doing?" asked Paul, closing the door behind him.
"Mopping," she said, her voice flat.
"Right. But why are you mopping here? Whose house is this anyway?"
"It's one we just added to the roster last week. The cleaning service hasn't had a chance to get in here yet."
"I see that," said Paul. "So why're you cleaning it tonight?"
"We're cleaning it tonight because the Guidarizzi's decided to make a surprise visit to their winter home in Key West. They're coming in tomorrow afternoon. Every other decent place is filled up, so we have to use this one instead."
"Oh fuck. Is there another mop?"
"There's another bucket and a scrub brush in the kitchen if you want to get started in there."
"Sounds like a plan," he said, taking careful steps as he crossed the freshly mopped floor on his way back to the kitchen. She was glad he'd showed up when he did - he could clean the kitchen and deal with whatever horrors might be hiding in the fridge.
"Lucky thing we got this place when we did, then," he called out to Chloe.
"Yeah," she yelled back. "It's a little smaller than the Guidarizzi place, so it might be a little cramped. I'm not sure how many people he's bringing with him."
"I thought he said three or four."
"I said I thought it'd be three or four. He didn't say at all."
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She finished the living room floor and went into the kitchen. Paul had filled a bucket with hot water and soap and was scrubbing away the dirt and stains he found hidden below the dust. The kitchen's last encounter with food hadn't ended with a very thorough clean-up. "I'm going to go upstairs and try and make the bedrooms habitable," Chloe said. "Bee's supposed to bring by some clean sheets from one of the other houses, so keep an ear out for her."
"Ok," Paul muttered in reply. She knew he wasn't happy that his normal evening of partying and dealing with stripper contacts had suddenly taken a dramatic turn into domestic chores, but then neither was she. She wanted to make a good impression on her visiting friends, and putting them up in a filthy house was not the way to do that. Fortunately, there was no such thing as getting to The Party too late. He'd just have to wait a while for his evening's fun and games.
After about half an hour of scrubbing the upstairs bathroom, she felt a pair of arms snake around her torso from behind. She leaned back into them and felt Paul's chest pressing against her back. She sighed.
"How's it going, hot stuff ?" she said.
"All finished downstairs," he said, giving her a neck a long, soft kiss. "You know, I never thought a life of crime would involve so much housework."
"I did tell you it would be glamorous and exciting, didn't I?" she teased. "No one can say I'm not a woman of my word."
Paul motioned for her to put down the scrub brush and then pulled her to him. She turned around to face him as he drew her close and kissed her again. Then one more time. She nuzzled against him, nipping playfully at his neck. "You smell good," she said.
"Thanks," he replied, his hands roaming down her back to her ass. He gave her a squeeze.
"Actually, you smell like a stripper."
"Sandee says hi."
"I'
ll bet," said Chloe, still kissing his neck.
"You know the party's moved back to the Crawford place."
"I know."
"I like the Crawford place. It has those back rooms..."
"Oh, I remember." She pulled away from him just enough to make room for her hand to caress him through the front of his pants while she looked him in the eye. "I remember very well indeed."
"We did just watch the video last week," he reminded her, closing his eyes as he moaned in pleasure under her touch.
"That was you in that video?" she said.
"Not the Kennedy Assassination video, the other one."
"Oh right. That video," she laughed. "That was you, wasn't it?"
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"It sure was. Maybe we could..."
Then Paul's pocket started singing The Clash again. "Did I do that?" asked Chloe. Then her pocket started singing as well, although for her it was The Misfits.
"No," sighed Paul. "I think that must be Bee."
They both took out their phones and looked at the caller ID screens. Paul's read "Verizon." Chloe's read "Keys Taxi Disp."
"She loves that new trick of hers," said Chloe as she answered the phone. "Heya, Bee, what's up with the sheets?" Paul answered his phone as well and was instantly conferenced into the conversation.
"I'm having Pia bring them by. I picked something up on the cameras and I thought you might want to see it."
"What is it?" said Chloe. "We're almost finished here."
"I got a boat coming in at the marina. I'm pretty sure it's your friend."
"Really?" said Chloe, excited and nervous. "Are you sure?"
"Nope. That's why I thought you might wanna come take a look."
"You're right. We're on our way. Can you call Pia and tell her the key's under the rock by the back door?"
"Sure thing," said Bee. "See you soon."
Paul and Chloe hung up their phones and looked at one another. Chloe had a big smile on her face.
"Are you nervous?" he asked her.
"What? Are you kidding? Of course not. I'm just psyched to see him again. Aren't you?"
"Definitely. I still owe him a lot. He's the only person who ever got shot on my behalf," said Paul. "I just thought you might be nervous. That's all."
"Why? Because I'm going fucking crazy trying to get this place hospitable before he gets here?"
"No," he said. "That's just being a good host. I thought you might be nervous for the same reason I'm nervous."
She looked at him for a long moment. They'd been dancing around this subject ever since he'd told them five days ago that he was coming to Key West. "You're wondering why he's coming at all," she said.
"It's a long way to come. Especially in a boat."
"I'm sure he got the boat once he got to this coast."
"Either way, it's a long way to come. And people like him - which is to say, people like us - don't make long trips without a reason."
"And I'm sure he'll tell us his reason," said Chloe. "Fuck, that's why I'm so excited! I want to hear what he's Chapter 02
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got up his sleeve. We need a little damn excitement around here. We've fallen into a rut. I thought you'd be excited too..."
"I am, I am," Paul assured her, although she suspected that he might be lying. "I'm excited and I'm nervous.
You know what I mean."
"Like a teenager on his first date," said Chloe.
"Yeah, sort of."
"Well don't worry. I promise Winston won't try to cop a feel in the back seat." She kissed him then. "But I might, so you better watch yourself." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Bee's waiting." She disengaged, turned, and headed straight for the front door.
Chapter 03
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Chapter 03
BACK at their house by the cemetery, Paul and Chloe found Bee in her room, what Paul referred to as her sanctum sanctorum - although no one else ever got the joke, and he refused to explain the comic book reference. As always, lighting was minimal (as opposed to Bee's workshop out behind the house, which was flooded with fluorescents). A bank of TV sets and computer monitors covered one whole wall, arranged on a precarious system of metal shelves that Bee had installed herself. A low, flat coffee table squatted below the glowing displays, supporting three keyboards, a bank of video editing tools and four different phone carriages.
Bee sat in her accustomed place - in the midst of a pile of cushions on the floor, fiddling with a mouse in one hand and typing on one of the keyboards while she talked quietly into her headset.
Paul and Chloe didn't bother to knock as they came in - Bee already knew they were there. Paul glanced at one of the screens mounted on the wall. Its display, divided into four quadrants, showed various images from inside the house, including the front door they'd just come through and the stairs they'd just climbed. The screen next to it - which Paul himself had salvaged from a bar on Duval that'd recently renovated into a finedining restaurant - showed images from four other cameras that covered the house's exterior. Nothing happened within fifty yards of their Crew's house that Bee didn't see, and if she had her way, that omniscience would soon extend to cover the entire island.
"So, Bee, how goes Project Big Brother?" Paul asked.
"I wish you wouldn't call it that," she replied.
"Sorry, but I have to call it something."
"You could call it something nice. Big Brother sounds so mean."
"What's mean about a reality show?" said Paul, joking.
"What isn't bad about a reality show?" countered Chloe, stepping in to defend her friend.
"Hmm, you got me there. Although there's an idea! Maybe that's how we can find more members for our Crew - have a reality-showstyle elimination contest. The winner gets a place in our outlaw life of crime."
"It's actually not the worst idea you've ever had," Chloe said. "I can think of worse, anyway."
"Are you talking about the turkeys? I thought turkeys could fly."
"Oh my God," said Bee. "Was that a WKRP in Cincinnati reference?"
"Guilty as charged," admitted Paul, chuckling.
"Fuck, you two watched too much TV as kids," said Chloe.
"What've you got for us, Bee-Bop?" Chloe asked, plopping down in the pile of cushions beside the short, stocky Asian engineer.
"Take a look," she said, eyes never leaving the screen, "at this."
Over the past six months, Bee had pressed the rest of the Crew into helping her plant hidden security cameras all over the most heavily trafficked areas of Key West. Paul had originally balked at the idea of so blatantly invading the populace's privacy. He didn't mind conning a select few of them out of their cash now and then, Chapter 03
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but the camera thing was so indiscriminate - it caught everybody. But Chloe had really liked the idea and pointed out that cops in other cities were putting surveillance cameras up and that she trusted herself a whole lot more than she trusted the police to use them responsibly. Sandee wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, but Sandee loved being on camera and went along with Bee and Chloe in the end. Outvoted, Paul went along with the plan and had spent more than a few hours of late wearing a Verizon Telephone Services nametag and installing cameras hidden inside innocuous looking metal boxes on telephone poles all over old town.
Actually, he'd spent far less time doing this than the others had, mostly because he wasn't very good with the electronics part and Bee had to keep fixing his mistakes.
Right now one of those cameras was showing the entrance to Artist's Alley, a row of small galleries and shops near the marina. The image was tinted green because of the night vision (in fact, there were two cameras in the boxes - one for day, one for night), and it was hard to make out faces.
"What am I looking at?" asked Chloe.
"Watch this gallery here," said Bee, moving a cursor on the screen to point at the shabby front of one of the ships closest to the camera. "I think your friend'
s in there." They waited and watched.
"Jesus," said Chloe, "What's he doing, buying a painting or something? Are you sure he's in there?"
"I'm not sure - I've never seen anything but a sketch of him. That's why I called you over here, so you could see if it's really him."
"Why don't we just run the video back so we can see if it was him when he walked in?"
"That was going to be my next step - I was assuming he'd come back out any sec, but he's been in there a while," said Bee, mousing over the controls.
"Who would've thought he'd actually find something in one of those dumps to occupy him this long," said Chloe.
With a few quick clicks, Bee switched the adjacent monitor's display to show the same shot as the live feed.
Then she ran it backward at x16 speed for a few seconds before stopping it. "There."
Chloe and Paul both leaned forward to look closer at the screen. It showed a couple walking down the alley from the direction of the marina. On the left was a broad built, attractive woman in her 30s who wore a nondescript sweatshirt and jeans with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Paul recognized her as someone who'd been introduced to him as Lily. Next to her stood an older man, long, stringy hair tied back in a ponytail, his potbelly protruding beneath a flower-print shirt. He smiled broadly and said something funny as the two walked past the Southernmost Wedding Chapel. It was, without a doubt, their old friend Winston.
"That's him!" said Chloe, excited. "Did you see how he got here? Which boat he came in on?"
"Yeah, hold on, lemme switch over to those cameras." A few clicks and keystrokes switched a third monitor away from its live feed of the marina to a moment in time twenty-seven minutes earlier. This camera, mounted in a plastic owl perched atop the Key Wharf Bar and Grille's roof not only kept the seagulls at bay, it provided video coverage of the dinghy docks. Here the many locals who lived on sailboats offshore could rent small slips for their boats, allowing them a reserved place to tie off when they came back onto the island.
They watched a small Zodiac putt-putt up next to the dock. As it got closer, they saw Winston and Lily sitting in the boat, along with another, older woman Paul didn't recognize. They clambered out of the small rubber boat and waved goodbye to the boat's pilot. He reversed his outboard engine and pulled away from the dock, Chapter 03