by Karl Tutt
Chapter 10
Ricky came into the office about nine. He had taken Henri to school. Evelyn had stayed the night. In addition to the other good shit, the formidable Ms. Santiago had a lot of mother in her. He assured me that they had postponed all extra-curricular activities until the boy was back home. Grace had agreed to let Henri stay with Ricky for a few days, but she wanted him with her as soon as we could assure her it was safe.
There wasn’t much conversation. We didn’t need any. It was plain and simple. Bijet had to be stopped. Jail would be nice, but other options had to be considered. None of them pleasant for him or for us. And unfortunately, neither of us knew exactly what they were.
Despite the distractions, S was never far from my mind. No Baker’s Bay tonight, no five star restaurants, no penthouse. We had decided to do it simple. Two bottles of good Cabernet. A cookout on GREAT GESTURE. Fire up the Magma grill and roast some hot dogs and hamburgers alongside a couple of massive ears of fat yellow corn. Hey, a plebian feast fit for almost young lovers with visions of heavy breathing after dinner. And I sincerely hoped that’s where we were headed.
The afternoon dragged. I made a few calls and scribbled in my notebook searching for a response, if not a solution. But we were no closer at the end of the day than we were when we began. Ricky was leaving to pick up Henri from school.
“No pizza tonight,” he said on the way out the door, “Ev is cooking some sort of Cuban casserole with pork, rice and something green. I’ll lay you ten to one it’s a gourmet’s delight.”
I laughed, “So she can cook, too? Does she make all her own clothes and do all the girls like her?”
I hate to tell on my partner, but he gave me the finger. Then he was gone. I had to admit it. The lady was quite remarkable and Ricky was done. I didn’t think you could pry them apart with a crowbar. Very cool.
S stepped on the dock at precisely seven o’clock looking like a Greek god in shorts. His blond hair fell casually over one eye and the spare jaw and high cheekbones looked like they belonged on Mt. Rushmore. The tight tendons in his arms and legs glistened in the evening sun. He cradled a couple of bottles of Hall, a California Cab that I sure can’t afford. He stepped onto the deck and put his free arm around my waist. Then his warm mouth swept lightly across my cheek and settled on my lips with just a bit of tongue.
They tell me panting is gauche, so I tried like hell to avoid it. I don’t want to admit it even to myself, but my heart raced and I could feel my pulse thumping in my neck. I had often kidded Ricky and Evelyn for acting like teenagers in heat, but this lady, tough as she pretended to be, was hooked.
The hot dogs and ground beef sizzled on the grill. I had lightly buttered the buns and they were browning beautifully. The corn was wrapped in silver foil and the scent was heavenly. We didn’t talk about much. It was one of those “how was your day” things. We ate in the cockpit, sipped the Cab, and traded groans of pleasure. After dinner, we went below for a snifter of Crème de Menthe and a more intimate setting. I lit the kerosene lamp. The warm glow of the teak and the cool breeze flowing through the cabin made it all damned near perfect.
“Dee, I’ve come to know you, at least as much as I can, these last few months. I’ve seen you calm . . . excited . . . determined. But this time, it’s different. There’s an edge, even a tinge of fear. You’re important to me. It’s time to talk . . . to tell me what’s going on. What’s got you wound up? And can I help?”
I didn’t like it. Since my last disastrous attempt at romance, I’ve made a career of keeping myself in a steel cage . . . protected, invulnerable . . . so nothing and no one could hurt me ever again. But now the bars were broken. I wanted someone on the inside . . . someone I could trust . . . someone I could love . . . and that someone was Sterling. I told him about Grace, Henri, and Bijet. How another boy was dead. How I had been introduced to the clown bastard and his brown legion of killers.
The silence hung in the air like heavy fog. He sipped the thick green liquid, scanned the cabin, then focused his eyes on me. His hand covered mine.
“I have friends,” he said. “. . . a measure of influence with people who matter. You don’t need to know who they are. I’ll make a few calls. Simply trust me. This Bijet and his thugs will no longer threaten you.”
Questions flooded my mind, but this was not a time to know, or even to ask.
“Dee,” he whispered, “I know you love it here . . . know how much you value your independence. But I won’t get in your way. I have a question . . . have you ever thought about moving off the boat? Perhaps a place in town . . . even a penthouse on the beach?”
“Sterling, maybe I’m dreaming, but that sounds like an invitation?”
“It is. Things are clear to me for the first time in a long time. I have come to love you. I want you safe. I want you with me. You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it. It is for us.”
Speechless is not a word often used to describe Diabla, but the cat had definitely gobbled up my tongue. I pulled him up off the settee and dragged him into the v berth. He didn’t resist all that much. We ripped at each other’s clothes and went at it like two hormonal kids finally giving in to crazed lust. No need to ask me if I liked it.
When I got up in the morning, he was gone. There was a note on the nav station. “I meant it. Just think about it. S.”
My head was swimming. Too much wine, too much sex? Well . . . maybe not that . . . but the wine? No question. After a second cup of very strong coffee, things began to clear. I still had a job to do, even if Sterling said I was safe from Bijet. But how does he pull that off? Who the hell were those so-called “people who matter” he had mentioned? And where did he get the “measure of influence” he had so casually referred to? The whole thing reeked of mystery and it even scared me a bit. I was in deep. Surely I wasn’t in love with some would-be mobster or other miscellaneous creep. When the time was right, I’d find out. But I wanted that time to be now.
I slipped on my Topsiders and walked down the dock to the old Catalina 27 that was the home of Elvis and Teeny. I’d met them last year while working on the Abaddon case. Elvis was the shy, skinny Publix bag boy who was also one of the best damned hackers I’d ever seen. Teeny was his own true love and looked like she belonged in a box at Toys’R’Us. I had taken them sailing on GREAT GESTURE and they cooed and tried to kiss each other to death. I was almost surprised when it didn’t work.
She was on the deck sunning in a bright blue bikini she must have bought in the children’s department at Walmart. The little miss was buried in a book almost as big as she was. The name Sara Paretsky was above the title in bold letters. A V.I. Warshawski book. Female detective, tough, competent, sometimes dangerous. I loved it. V.I. was one of my heroes. I think I read every damned one of them.
“Hi, Teeny.”
“Oh, Dee. How are you? Come aboard. I think there’s a cold beer in the ice box.”
“I don’t want to bother you. I see you’re reading. Love that Paretsky stuff. I was looking for Elvis. I kind of need his help on something.”
“Well, Dee. Next to me, he thinks you’re the coolest thing on two legs. He’s at the store, but he gets off at four.”
I asked them to come by for a cocktail and hors d’oeuvres. I didn’t have any, but I knew Elvis and Teeny would be happy with a bag of chips and some onion dip.
They came down the dock at a little after four in their customary position, joined at the hip. If everybody looked at each other the way they did, we’d have a damned fine world. Unfortunately, creatures like Bijet and his boys crawled out from under their rocks all too often.
I had mixed a pitcher of Planter’s Punch. They like the sweet stuff, and on occasion, so do I. Despite concerns about my Sterling, those occasions came around a lot when my own Prince Charming was present.
After we had worked over the dip, I broached my request.
“Elvis, I’m sure Teeny told you. I need some help. The kind that come
s naturally to your type of genius.”
The pride burst out of her. I was talking about her man. He ducked his head and grinned sheepishly. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had said, “Aw shucks, Ma’am.”
“I’m working on a case. There’s a thug goes by the name of Bijet. He’s a gang type, leads the Ju Ju D’s here in Lauderdale. It might take cracking the police files. I need everything I can get on him. Also met a guy. Sounds corny, but he’s become very special to me. Still, there are some things about him I just don’t know. Name is Sterling Major.”
“Sterling Major the sports agent?” Teeny asked.
“The same,” I said.
“Wow, he’s a friend of yours? Handles some of the biggest names in the NBA, not to mention some hot property for the NFL. He has a reputation for being tough, but clean. Gets top dollar for his clients and keeps them out of trouble. I’ve seen his picture in the paper. Wow.”
“All true, but he doesn’t talk much about his background. I guess I’m curious. We have gotten very close. I just want to be sure I don’t do something I’ll regret later.” Yeah, I thought . . . like play house in a penthouse on the ocean.
Elvis finally spoke more than one word at a time. “Dee, I’m off in the morning. I’ll have some time. For you, I’ll use it. If you can check with me before I go to the store, I should have something for you. I’ll be on the boat or you can call if you need to.”
I wanted to hug that skinny body, but I knew Teeny would handle that duty. They left and I was alone. That was plenty okay until the phone rang. I was hoping for S. No such luck. I thought at first the receiver was dead or I’d been cut off. Then I heard the breathing followed by a voice I thought I recognized.
“I get de word. Don’ worry. You safe. Your friens . . . maybe not so much.” The phone went dead. That was a message that called for one more drink. It was bitter going down.