An Easy Sail_A Connie Barrera Thriller_The 8th Novel in the Series_Mystery and Adventure in Florida and the Caribbean

by Charles Dougherty

  It had been months since he and Gator Jaw had done away with Kilgore and Jansen. If anybody had missed either of them, there'd been no indication of it. O'Toole wished he could talk to Gator Jaw, but he didn't see a way to do that without leaving a record of the call.

  Maybe he could manage a personal phone call when his delegation left the combat zone and got back to what passed for civilization in this part of the world. But that was still dangerous. He and Gator Jaw would have to be pretty careful what they said on an open line, but O'Toole was worried enough to take some risk.

  He frowned as he tried to figure out whether the vandalism of Graciella's place could be connected to the cops' sudden interest in Kilgore and Jansen. At least nobody had mentioned Pinkie Schultz.

  O'Toole knew exactly what had happened to Jansen and Kilgore, but he had only a guess when it came to Pinkie's disappearance. He thought the scar-faced man was behind that, but he didn't know for sure.

  He decided to go look for that cute little blonde major. Even if all he could do was piss her off, she was still fun to mess with. O'Toole was in bad need of a distraction.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Delaney." Guillermo Montalba took the call in the lounge of his motor yacht. He had been gazing out at the indigo blue water of the Caribbean when the encrypted satellite phone provided by SpecCorp rang.

  "Yeah," Delaney said. "You, too. I just gave our friend the info we turned up on the Montalba woman."

  "Anything more than what you and I discussed earlier?"

  "No. Just that her place was vandalized and she was staying in a hotel while the repairs were done. That's all I have on her, so far."

  "So far?" Montalba asked. "Are you investigating further?"

  "Well, that's what I need to talk to you about. He's curious about who was behind the vandalism. He pushed on me about that a couple of times."

  "That's not surprising, I suppose. How did you handle it?"

  "I suggested it might be a jealous former lover. I mean, that's plausible. We checked the broad out; she's had all kinds of flings with the kind of assholes you read about in the society columns, right? No secret there."

  "And how did he take that?"

  "He's not buying it. Dumb bastard seems to be blinded by lust and thinks it's true love. That woman's got a track record that would embarrass the Whore of Babylon, but he thinks she's Mother Teresa."

  "How did you leave it with him?" Montalba smiled, wondering how Delaney would react if he knew he was smearing his largest investor's sister. He suppressed a chuckle.

  "He wants me to dig into it, find out who trashed her place, and why."

  "Can you do that?"

  "Maybe. I'm sure we can find out more than we know now. There's the contractor and his people to check out, and the staff at the condo building. We may even be able to get something from our sources in the Miami Police Department. They were all over that building the night it happened. Hell of a coincidence, but there was a murder-suicide in the building that same night."

  Montalba smiled. "Can you do that in a discreet manner, Mr. Delaney? We mustn't embarrass our friend. It wouldn't do for the future first lady to be compared to the Whore of Babylon, as you put it."

  "Yeah, we can keep it quiet. I need your okay on it, though. You wanted to manage our friend's perceptions, right?"

  "Yes. If you're right about the Montalba woman's past, it would be wise to keep that quiet. We especially wouldn't want him to get upset over it."

  "Right," Delaney said.

  "Having said that, I'd like very much to know who tried to intimidate her. And what they hoped to gain from it. Do you suppose they intended to blackmail her for some reason?"

  "It's hard to say, knowing as little as we do right now. It could be anything: blackmail, jealous rage, drugs ... anything," Delaney said.

  "Drugs?" Montalba asked. "Do you have some indication that she's involved with drugs?"

  "Not yet, but hey! This is South Florida, and she's richer than God. So's our mutual friend. It would be a miracle if drugs didn't figure in this somehow. Or at least drug money. Same thing, really."

  "That's frightening," Montalba said. "Tell your operatives to be very careful. From what I've read, drug dealers can be dangerous. Deadly, even."

  "Yeah, I hear you. Not to worry. We do deadly and dangerous all the time where I come from. I'll run everything we get by you before we figure out what to tell our friend."

  "Yes," Montalba said. "You and I have the same interest here; we need to manage his perceptions, as you said. I'll look forward to hearing what you learn. Have a good afternoon."

  Montalba disconnected the call and laughed out loud for several seconds. "Whore of Babylon, indeed," he said, in a soft voice. "She was trained by our dear mother, the Whore of Babylon was." He fingered the acid scars on his cheek and stared into space, wishing he could share that with Graciella. She needed a laugh.

  13

  "Welcome to Dominica," Sharktooth said, his voice soft.

  "Thanks," Connie said. She and Paul were waiting for him on Diamantista II's side deck.

  "Good to see you," Paul said, crouching to take a bow line from the big man as his water taxi drifted alongside. "Our guest is sleeping in."

  Sharktooth grinned and nodded. "Want me to come back later?"

  "Can you take me over to customs and immigration to clear in now?" Connie asked.

  "Mm-hmm. I can do that."

  "Good," Connie stepped over the lifelines and dropped into Sharktooth's boat, giving him a quick hug. She turned and took the line back from Paul. "She'll probably be awake by the time we get back, and we can all have breakfast. She's eager to meet you."

  Sharktooth nodded as he let the boat drift away from Diamantista II. When they were several yards distant, he shifted to forward gear and eased the throttle open a bit, keeping the engine noise down to avoid disturbing their guest. "How you been keepin'?"

  "We're fine," Connie said. "You and Maureen?"

  "We doin' well. She's lookin' forward to meetin' this Marcia you told me 'bout. She t'ink mebbe Marcia write somethin' 'bout the gallery, bring in some business."

  "She probably will. Meanwhile, though, she'll drive you nuts with all her questions."

  Sharktooth grinned. "You hear 'bout what happened to Dani and Liz?"

  "You mean Vengeance getting stolen?"

  "Mm-hmm. That some crazy doin'."

  "Yes, we did. Do you know where they are? When I talked to them a few days ago, they were waiting on a charter in Rodney Bay."

  "You just missed them. They left here yesterday; must be you passed them somewhere."

  "They were headed north?" Connie asked.

  "Mm-hmm, makin' a slow trip to Antigua. Mebbe they spend las' night in the Saintes. They got some regular guests, for a change. Nice young couple, celebratin' they fifth weddin' anniversary."

  "Well, good for them. It's about time they had a normal charter, after that last mess they got sucked into."

  Sharktooth laughed. "Liz is enjoying it, anyhow. But you know Dani."

  "She's not happy?"

  "She say these people are boring. They jus' want to sail aroun' from place to place. Sit on the beach an' drink rum punch, mebbe snorkel a little bit."

  "Sometimes I wonder about that girl," Connie said.

  "Dani does like some excitement," Sharktooth said.

  "I just told Paul the other day that I was ready for an easy sail; we've had enough excitement lately. But I guess that's not to be, not this time."

  "So you not doin' okay wit' this lady?" Sharktooth looked over at her and raised his eyebrows. "Sound like she pretty normal."

  "She's okay. Paul says she reminds him of the way his friends described their three-year-old kids, though, with all the questions. But she's not the problem."

  "Uh-oh," Sharktooth said, as he brought the boat alongside the dock near customs. "We early; they not open yet. You want to get some coffee?"

  "I'm okay, thanks. But if you want some, I'll s
it with you."

  "Nah, never mind. I wait for Paul's coffee. Not a good coffee place near here. You say this Marcia, she not the problem?"

  "No. We've gotten caught up in the aftermath of the Vengeance mess."

  "How's that?"

  She gave Sharktooth a quick summary of their situation, taking a few minutes to fill him in on her mysterious cousin, Leon Contreras, as well. Sharktooth listened without comment, nodding occasionally.

  When she finished, he said, "So you all t'ink this Montalba mon, he spy on Dani an' Liz because he know they friends of yours? He believe that old story 'bout you runnin' a cartel?"

  "That's what it sounds like. I wish I'd thought of something else to con those bastards with a few years ago. Given all the things I really did that could have gotten me in trouble, it's the one I made up out of thin air that keeps coming back to haunt me."

  "Hmm. You talked to Phillip 'bout this?"

  "Not yet. We talked with Dani and Liz. Too bad we're going to miss them; Marcia was interested in meeting them."

  "Why?" Sharktooth asked. "How come she know 'bout them?"

  "Oh, when she asked how Paul and I got into this business, they came up. I told her I learned to sail from two women who ran a boat that I chartered. It turned out that she saw their boat on Elaine's website when she was shopping for a charter. After we told her our story, she realized their boat looked just like Diamantista II, and that we used the same charter broker. And so she made the connection. She thought an article about two women running a charter yacht might sell."

  "So she jus' writes articles and then tries to sell them?"

  Connie shrugged. "So she says. She looks for unusual, travel-related things to write about. When we asked where she wanted to go during her time down here, she said she wanted to go where Paul and I would go if we were alone — off the beaten path. She wants to meet and write about the everyday people who live in the islands — not the normal tourist stuff."

  "Where else will you take her, then?"

  "We're thinking we'll go to Ste. Anne from here. She's interested, because the French islands aren't that well known to Americans. Besides, we thought we could follow up with Phillip on this Montalba business. We can talk to Beverly Lennox while we're there, too. Dani said she's working for Sandrine now, teaching American English to the customs agents."

  "Mm-hmm," Sharktooth said. "But she's using a different name. Her real name is Mary Ellen Cassidy. Mary Ellen, she call herself. She worried 'bout this Montalba mon tryin' to find her; she one of the only people who's seen him in person."

  "Was Beverly Lennox an alias, then?"

  "Mm-hmm. She say lots of women workin' in the escort business use fake names. Easy to see why, I t'ink. She had a passport and everyt'ing for the Mary Ellen name; Sandrine fix t'ings in the database so if anybody come lookin' for Beverly Lennox, they see she left for Miami a few days after she got to Martinique."

  "I'm glad you told me," Connie said. "That will save some confusion."

  "Phillip and Sandrine know you comin'?"

  "We haven't called them yet. We're going to do that while you show Marcia around. We've kept all of this from her; the way that woman asks questions, she'd never leave us alone if she overheard us talking about this Montalba thing."

  Sharktooth nodded. "Smart not to tell her, I t'ink. Mebbe she write a magazine article 'bout it." He grinned.

  "Oh," she said, "that reminds me. She's full of questions about the drug trade in the islands, so don't be surprised if she grills you on it."

  "That's a dangerous t'ing for her to be askin' 'bout."

  "That's what I told her. She says that some magazines buy articles about destinations where drugs are easy to get."

  "Hmm," he said. "I t'ink customs an' immigration open, now."

  "You coming in?" Connie asked.

  "I jus' wait here an' think about all this."

  "More coffee?" Paul asked, hefting the thermal carafe.

  "I'm good," Marcia said.

  Sharktooth shook his head, but Connie held her mug out toward Paul. He filled her cup and then his own.

  "I've read that Dominica works hard to encourage ecotourism," Marcia said. "What do you think of that, Sharktooth? Does it help your business?"

  "Yes, it does. I'm a big proponent of ecotourism. Dominica is blessed with a lot of unspoiled natural beauty; we're proud to share it with the right people."

  "The right people?"

  "People who're interested in being close to nature, who want to protect the delicate balance that exists in a few unspoiled places."

  "I see," Marcia said. "You sound almost like a government spokesperson."

  "That's not an accident," Connie said. "He's too modest to tell you, but Sharktooth's a former government minister."

  "Really?"

  "Mm-hmm." Sharktooth looked down at his hands, folded on the table in front of him.

  "What were you responsible for?"

  "Tourism, and for a while, Health and Environment."

  "No wonder, then," Marcia said. "So you're a politician?"

  "Not really. I saw some things that needed to be done, and I had some ideas about how to do them."

  "Good for you. Are you still active in the government?"

  "No. I served my time and then stepped aside to let other people try their ideas. I was much younger then, right out of university."

  "Where did you study?"

  "In the States."

  "Where in the States?"

  "Pennsylvania."

  "The University of Pennsylvania," Connie added.

  "What was your major?" Marcia asked.

  "Economics."

  "Oh, come on, Sharktooth," Paul said. "Don't be so shy."

  Sharktooth shook his head.

  "He has a Ph.D.," Connie said, "but he doesn't want people to think he's some kind of intellectual snob."

  "I'm impressed."

  "You shouldn't be," Sharktooth said. "Anybody can get a degree. It's not helpful to me in my business."

  "From what Connie and Paul said, you're involved in several businesses," Marcia said.

  "Dominica is a small, poor country. Most people here have to hustle to survive. Having more than one way to make a living is common. It's not like in the States."

  "Interesting. I'm looking forward to learning more about life in Dominica."

  Sharktooth nodded. "We should be going, before the sun comes over the mountains. Otherwise, we will be very hot up in the Indian River. I have cold drinks, and there's a good place to eat lunch where we will leave the boat to hike through the plantations. You should bring sunscreen, and maybe some bug spray. And a camera."

  Marcia went below and returned with a backpack in less than a minute. "Ready," she said.

  Sharktooth climbed down in to his boat and reached up to give her a hand as she stepped over the lifelines. "I'll come back and pick you up late this afternoon, after I leave Marcia at the gallery with Maureen," he said, as Paul cast off his bow and stern lines.

  "Have fun," Paul said.

  "And get some good pictures for your articles," Connie added, waving as Sharktooth fired up his big outboard.

  "Think he'll survive?" Connie asked, grinning at Paul as they went back to the cockpit.

  He shrugged. "He's a patient man; he'll be okay. But I wonder why he switched to American English with her. Think he's trying to impress her for some reason?"

  "Sharktooth? Trying to impress somebody? Who knows? He probably had his reasons. Let's check the email and call Phillip," Connie said.

  "I got a look at the email before she woke up. She'd only been awake for a couple of minutes when you got back."

  "Anything good?"

  "Depends on your perspective, I guess," Paul said. "Luke's all wound up, wanting more from Leon. They found human remains at the spot Leon told them about."

  "Could they identify the victim?" Connie asked.

  Paul shook his head. "It was right at the GPS coordinates where Leon said
Kilgore dumped the body he figured was Pinkie Schultz, but Luke said the remains were a mess — the gators and whatnot had been at them. Bones scattered over a pretty wide area. Identifying the victim's going to be a challenge. They're trying to find a way to get a DNA sample from Schultz, but that's not going to be easy, this late in the game."

  "What's he want from Leon?"

  "More on Art Jansen. What did Leon see, how did he know it was Jansen, why does he think O'Toole did it. Like I said, he's wound up." A wry grin spread across Paul's face. "So many questions that he sounds like Marcia."

  "So he's a believer, now? He thinks Leon's on the level?"

  "He thinks Leon knows more than he's given us. I'm not sure how he feels about Leon being on the level. He's got a lot of questions about Jansen and O'Toole, and how Leon came to be watching them. Not that I blame him; I'm curious about that myself."

  "Did we get anything new from Leon?"

  Paul shook his head. "No. I forwarded Luke's email to him. We'll probably hear something soon. Shall we call Phillip?"

  "Yes," Connie said. "First though, we've crossed wakes with Dani and Liz, so we're not going to connect with them. Sharktooth says they probably spent last night in the Saintes."

  "Should we think about introducing Marcia to Beverly Lennox, then, as kind of a substitute? She could give Marcia a feel for life aboard Vengeance."

  "You aren't serious, are you?" Connie frowned.

  "It just popped into my head. I mean, we'd have to check with Lennox first, for sure. You think there's a problem? I got the impression from Dani and Liz that they'd become friends with her, in spite of the trouble they had with the congressman."

  "I'm sorry; I was reacting based on what Sharktooth told me just now. I forgot you didn't know. Beverly Lennox is scared of trouble from Montalba. She's the only one who's seen him and could recognize him. She's quit using the name Beverly Lennox."

  "Oh," Paul said. "Damn. I should have thought of that. She's the source of that sketch of Berto. She changed her name?"

  "To Mary Ellen Cassidy. It's her real name, from birth. Beverly Lennox was an alias. She told Phillip and Sandrine that a lot of women who work as escorts use fake names. Makes sense to me."