"My real name wouldn't help you. How can we resolve this?"
"You say you have friends in Miami. Would we know them?"
"Perhaps, if you have connections there."
Marie nodded. "Give me a name, Marcia. Someone in Miami, who will know Marcia Levine."
"William Roberts."
"William Roberts is dead," Marie said, yawning.
"Yes," Marcia said. "Good for you. I can tell you who killed him."
Marie glanced at her and returned her eyes to the traffic. "Who?"
"Manny LaRosa."
"He is also dead, Marcia. Do not take us for fools. We know his club, the Pink Pussycat; it is closed."
Marcia was overcome by a coughing fit. As it subsided, she asked, "The Pink Pussycat?"
Marie glared at her and shook her head, making a clucking sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
"Where are we going, anyway?" Marcia asked.
"You wanted a tour of the island, yes?"
"Yes."
"I think we go up north to St. Pierre, to the volcano. Up along the rim there is a trail. It is dangerous if you fall, but you will look out over the town. It is very interesting. Once was a thriving city, known as the Paris of the Caribbean. Then the volcano, it erupted in the beginning of the 20th century. It destroyed the town, killed 30,000 people. One man, who was in the jail, he survived. Many big ships sunk in the harbor. The town is never the same. We are approaching Fort-de-France, now. But I know Sandrine, she already shows you this part of Martinique, yes?"
"Yes. Will I be able to see the whole island?"
"Today?" Marie asked.
"Yes."
"No. Today, I show you some of the interior on the way north, and we drive back down the west coast and around Fort-de-France. But there is still much to see."
"Will you be available tomorrow?"
"Yes, I think so. Why?"
"Perhaps you could show me more of the island. Tonight, I will check with some people. If we tell you some things about the Pink Pussycat that you don't know, and maybe even who is taking over from LaRosa, could we move forward?"
"As you say, perhaps. I will talk to some people tonight as well. Then we will see. For now, look around you, because we are leaving the part of the island that you saw with Sandrine yesterday. Martinique is very beautiful."
"Good. But there is one more thing. It's very important to our … potential business."
"What is it?" Marie asked.
"You must not tell anyone that I am involved."
"Eh?" Marie glanced over at Marcia. "How can I do this, then? What is it that you worry about? Both of us are taking the risk, yes? You and I?"
"Yes. But Sandrine and Connie and Paul and their friends must not know I'm the go-between on my side."
"Sandrine, of course not. You think I am the fool, maybe? Sandrine is the law. She must never know any of this, or we will both be in prison. Then I will kill you. Who are these Connie and Paul people?"
"They run the charter yacht that I'm on, and they are friends of Sandrine and her husband. If they found out, they would tell her. Paul is a cop, and Connie is … narrow-minded about drugs."
"Narrow-minded? I do not know this word. It means she would tell the police?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"Then they must not know. But I do not know them, so how could they learn our plan from me?"
"They know everybody in the islands, it seems. This part of the world is like a small town."
"Yes, okay. I understand we must keep this quiet from them. But I must tell my contacts a name. Also, this drug business, it is like the small town, also. Someone in my organization may know someone in yours well enough to check on you, to see if they know you. So I must have your name for them, you see."
"I can see that, but Marcia Levine isn't a name they would know anyway." Marcia stared straight ahead for several seconds. "Tell them … tell them my name is Grace O'Toole. Sometimes I'm called Gracie."
"Okay. But I call you Marcia between us, so nobody is confused, yes?"
"Yes. Now, tell me about what we're seeing along the way to the volcano. This is beautiful countryside."
"Marie has done this sort of thing before, with the drugs," Sandrine said. "So when Marcia, I mean Graciella, asked about an island tour yesterday, I think, 'Why not let Marie show her around, and maybe find out more about this interest in the drugs,' yes? I am hoping this is okay with you."
"It's a great idea," Connie said. "Perfect. But I think we should keep calling her Marcia for now, and forget about Graciella. Otherwise, it's too easy to make a mistake when we're talking with her."
"But what if Marcia bites?" Paul asked.
"Marcia bites?" Sandrine asked, eyebrows climbing up her forehead.
"Sorry," Paul said. "It's slang. It's from fishing. It means she takes the bait, like a fish striking."
"Ah," Sandrine said. "I like this. Bites, like the fish is biting. I will remember this, bites."
Phillip chuckled. "Good, Sandrine. But what about Paul's question?"
"Yes," Sandrine said. "I have thought that Marcia may be striking … uh, biting Marie. Marie and I, we discuss. She says if Marcia does the biting, she will turn on the table and make Marcia prove to be serious."
"How would Marie do that?"
"She gives Marcia the cocaine, to call on her bluff."
"Marie is carrying cocaine?"
"Only a small packet, from the evidence we have stored. And is all official that she has it, no problem. She will be watching to see what Marcia does, then."
"What if Marcia wants to buy more?" Connie asked.
"This is what we are expecting, of course. Her brother is the big dealer, so she will want to find out more about this from Marie," Sandrine said, nodding. She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. "So then Marie, she begins to ask the questions about who are you, who you are working for, yes?"
"You think Marcia will open up that easily?" Paul said, frowning. "She'll be cautious, don't you think?"
"But of course," Sandrine said. "Marie, she has done this many times. She makes Marcia trust her by giving her the cocaine, but then she becomes timide, évasive. What is the word for hiding her intentions, like when a young girl is teasing a boy?"
"Coy?" Connie said.
"Yes, this is it. So if Marcia is biting, Marie, she will become coy, and want Marcia to prove who she is working for, yes?"
"Okay so far," Paul said. "Then what?"
"Whatever Marcia tells, Marie will say she must talk with her people tonight and answer tomorrow. Marie says this will be expected, if Marcia is a serious deal."
"It will be interesting to see how Marcia reacts," Connie said. "This could work."
"What do you mean, it could work?" Paul asked.
"I've been thinking about what we talked about. Montalba wants something from us. Like you said, if he just wanted to wipe us out, he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble."
"That makes sense," Phillip said.
Sandrine nodded. "Yes, I think so, too. So what does he want?"
"Maybe another source of cocaine for his market, or maybe access to new distribution channels. Or both. He's bound to know Martinique's the gateway to the European market. Maybe he thinks my imaginary cartel can move product for him."
"That adds up, but where are you going with it?" Paul asked.
"We want to get rid of him, right?" Connie said. "He's been annoying us and Dani and Liz for long enough."
"Yeah," Paul said. "Get rid of him, but how?"
"I don't know yet, but we can't take him off the board if we don't know where he is," Connie said. "And we have his sister. She no doubt has a way to communicate with him."
"You want to threaten her, maybe?" Paul asked. "Use her for a hostage?"
"That's an option," Connie said. "But I don't like it. He knows too much about us. She's told him where she is, who's here, everything he needs to mount a rescue attempt. And he's not likely to show up hims
elf. He's used those SpecCorp people before, and he's probably got other muscle to throw at us if he thinks we're on to her."
"You're laying the groundwork for something I won't like," Paul said. "You want him to come after you, personally. Is that it?"
"He wants something from me. He thinks I'm running a cartel. He's running a cartel. He wants to cut a deal. It would be natural for the two of us to meet and negotiate, don't you think?"
"Where? How?" Paul asked.
"I don't know," Connie said, "but that's the only way I see to make him show himself."
Paul's face looked pale, but he nodded. "Can't fault your logic. I guess we'll have to see what Marie gets from Marcia before we can go much further with this, huh?"
"I think so. Too bad we didn't have Sharktooth on the line for this," Phillip said.
"I'm surprised he flew to Miami," Paul said, "knowing how he hates airplanes."
"Maureen said he was in a big hurry to get there and keep an eye on Tiberius and Lucilius," Phillip said. "His aunt is angry with him for getting her boys mixed up in this, and Maureen said she's one of the few people Sharktooth's afraid of. She'll tell him to call us as soon as she hears from him. It'll probably be in the next hour or two."
Jorge opened the door to the Pink Pussycat and peered into the gloom, hesitating to enter. There were no customers; it was too early. The bartender was waving for him to come in, so he shuffled forward, letting the door close behind him.
"Hey, man," the bartender said. "You doin' all right?"
Jorge nodded. "Ain't seen nobody around here for a couple of days. Sign said it was closed."
"Yeah. You want a beer and a burger? Have to hurry before the crowd shows up."
"Yeah, please. I ain't been eatin' regular since y'all was closed. What happened?"
The bartender drew a beer and set it in front of Jorge. He scribbled an order on his pad and tore it off, passing it through the service window to the short-order cook. Dragging his stool up to the bar across from Jorge, he sat down. "Boss shot himself. Nobody knows why. Killed this male prostitute that hung here sometimes, and then shot himself. You hear anything about that?"
Jorge shook his head. "Here?"
"What?" the bartender asked.
"It happen here?"
"No, man. Not here. In this high-rent condo over on the ICW."
"I wouldn't know nothin' about it, then. I ain't been away from my usual places around here."
"You seen anything strange in the neighborhood?"
Jorge took a careful sip of the beer and burped softly. "'Scuse me. Nothin really, 'cept the other day I saw two drunk broads come flyin' out the back door, one after the other. That's the first sign of life I seen here since y'all closed up."
The bartender nodded. "Me and Joey, you know Joey? The manager?"
Jorge nodded, leaning forward and taking another tiny sip of the beer without lifting it off the bar.
"You ain't gotta save it, man. Drink up. I'll get you another one when the burger's ready."
Jorge grinned and lifted the glass, taking a swallow. He burped again and put the glass down. "You and Joey?"
"Yeah. Place was closed with no warning. Me and Joey, we figured they stiffed us on the pay they owed us, we might as well enjoy ourselves, you know? So we got them two women, used to be waitresses. Had ourselves a little party goin'. Then the new boss showed up." He paused, lookin over his shoulder.
Jorge took another swallow of beer, waiting.
"He was some kinda pissed off, Mr. Griffin was. Slapped the women silly and threw 'em out, like you said. Told 'em don't come back, or else."
"Or else?" Jorge asked.
The bartender shrugged. "Then he beat the shit out of me and Joey, told us to get to work. He wanted Joey to round up the women used to work here, tell 'em everything was on the house for them and their johns, leastways until we got the place goin' again."
"So now y'all are open," Jorge said.
"Yeah we're open, kinda."
"I ain't seen no women around," Jorge said. "Not like before, anyhow."
"Yeah. Joey told the boss to fuck himself and quit, but I ain't got anywhere to go."
"What happened to the bouncer?"
The bartender shrugged. "Ain't seen him. Them guys come and go."
"So what's the new boss gonna do? About the women?" Jorge asked.
"I don't know. He's been spending all his time tryin' to track down this one woman, Beverly Lennox. I got no idea why. Stuck up bitch. She quit comin' around long time ago. Word was, she was shackin' up with some rich politician."
"Where'd the new boss come from? He buy this place, or what?"
"How the hell would I know? I just work here, man. He showed up with the keys to the place and started kickin' ass. I guess he bought it. I heard him tell some guy on the phone he missed St. Lucia. I think that's where he came from. Some fuckin' island down in the Caribbean. He calls down there all the time, and this guy that calls him back, he's got this sing-song kinda accent like the island people have."
Jorge took a swallow of the beer and didn't say anything.
A bell rang behind the bartender and he turned around and picked up a plate with a burger and fries on it. Plopping it on the bar in front of Jorge, he said, "There you go, buddy. Eat up and haul ass before the crowd starts comin' in. I don't know how the new boss will feel about me feedin' you." He set a fresh glass of beer next to the half-empty one.
"Thanks, man," Jorge said, taking a bite of the burger.
"Yeah, no problem. Just don't hustle the customers outside, okay?"
"No," Jorge said. "Not me. I ain't goin' to screw up a good thing."
"Hey?" the bartender asked, after several seconds.
"Yeah?"
"You go in any other bars in the neighborhood?"
"Yeah, sometimes. Why?"
"You hear any of them lookin' for a bartender, you let me know, okay?"
"Sure, man. I will. You been good to me." Jorge finished the burger and drained both glasses of beer. Belching again, he got to his feet and slipped out the door.
21
As they were about to break for lunch, Phillip's phone rang. "It's Sharktooth," he said, accepting the call in speaker mode and putting the phone on the table.
"Thanks for returning my call; we're all here," Phillip said. "How was the flight?"
"Awful, but I got here. Anyt'ing better than having Aunt Maggie on my back 'bout leadin' them two boys astray."
"Are you with Tiberius and Lucilius now?" Connie asked.
"I jus' lef' them. I'm watchin' their place right now."
"Are they still planning to let themselves be captured?" Paul asked.
"Mm-hmm," Sharktooth chuckled. "Somebody gon' be gettin' a big surprise."
"Are you planning on following them?"
"Mebbe, dependin' on what happens. They each got a tracker, so I don' really need to."
"Whoever takes them might be looking for that," Phillip said.
"Mebbe so, but they hidden in their dreads. Nobody gon' find them."
"What about an electronic scan?" Phillip asked.
"Trackers off unless the boys activate them. No electronic signature, an' they got all kinda metal trinkets in their hair, confuse a scanning wand real bad." He chuckled again. "You need somethin'? Maureen say you makin' some plans."
"I think we're okay for now," Connie said. "We just wanted to have you involved, but there's time yet." She gave him a quick summary of what they had discussed. "What do you think?"
"I t'ink you need a tracker like Tiberius and Lucilius got. Clarence gave me these, so you talk to him. When you t'ink somethin' gon' happen?"
"Probably not before tomorrow at the earliest," Connie said. "We're waiting to see what Marie gets from Marcia. Do you have any plans to come back, yet?"
"Not yet. Depends on what happens wit' the boys. Why?"
"I was just thinking it might be good to have you in Miami. Everything points to a Miami connection."
/> "Okay. I let you know as t'ings happen. Mebbe I stay here a while. I t'ink now I should go, though. Strange car jus' drive by ver' slow. Talk later."
They disconnected. As Phillip slipped his phone into his pocket, he asked, "Do you think Montalba's — "
A pinging sound from Connie's phone interrupted him. She glanced at her screen and said, "Email from Cousin Leon."
She studied the screen for a moment and then switched to her web browser. "A message in the blind drop," she said.
After a few seconds, she said, "There's somebody new running the Pink Pussycat. He sounds brutal." She described what Jorge had learned a few hours earlier. "Two interesting bits of information there. This guy Griffin is from St. Lucia, and he's looking for Beverly Lennox."
"That means he's almost certain to be working for Montalba," Paul said.
"And he thinks Beverly Lennox is in Miami," Sandrine said. "I must check with the office to see if there have been queries about her."
"We should call Cedric, too," Phillip said. Cedric Jones was the Commissioner of Police in St. Lucia, and an old friend of Phillip and J.-P. Berger. "He may know something about Griffin. And this means Montalba has some connections in the islands besides his sister."
"Why don't you do that while Connie and I touch base with Luke," Paul said. "We're overdue for a call with him, and he may know something about the Pink Pussycat. It's certainly on his radar."
"Good. We'll regroup in a little while, then," Phillip said. "Sandrine's likely to be a while once she calls her office, anyway."
"A man has been asking questions about us," Sandrine said, as they all gathered at the table on the veranda for a lunch of cold cuts and fresh baguettes.
"Us?" Phillip asked. "About you and me?"
"Mais oui, and about Connie and Paul, and Dani and Liz. Also J.-P."
"You got this from your office?" Phillip asked, his brows rising as he cut his eyes toward her.
"Yes. One of our undercover people left this message for me. He works in La Duprey most of the time, watching for the small-time smugglers."
"Did he know who this man was?" Connie asked.
"Yes. He is from St. Lucia, but his wife, she is from La Duprey."
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