Showdown in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  “That was unbelievable!” Scarlett shouted after pulling her regulator from her mouth.

  We climbed up onto the swim platform, removed our gear, then lounged for an hour to let our bodies release the excess nitrogen from the dive. We spoke enthusiastically about the dive while eating lobster rolls we’d picked up at the Lobster Shack earlier that morning.

  The Vandenberg was truly incredible. We felt like we’d seen so much in such a short period of time. And the reality was, we’d explored less than half of the main deck area alone. Ange and I had dived the massive wreck a dozen times, and there were still areas we had yet to explore. The wreck was like an underwater playground for experienced divers.

  After the surface interval, we dropped down for round two. This time we hit up the forward section of the main deck. We explored the smaller radar dish, the telescope at the top of the wheelhouse, and the king post and foremast at the bow.

  After the second dive, we untied the line and motored northwest to shallower water along the reef. I anchored us down in thirty feet of water and we spent the rest of the day relaxing, freediving, and spearfishing.

  Around 1300, we took a break and had some lunch. We ate the rest of the lobster rolls along with handfuls of potato chips, and washed it down with coconut waters. While eating in the dinette, Scarlett fell quiet for a moment, then looked at both of us through Ange’s extra pair of aviator sunglasses.

  “Now you two want to tell me what you’ve been up to the past week?” she asked. “I saw the story in the news. That big-name businessman died and his whole company’s under investigation.” She motioned toward my face and chest. “And you’ve got an impressive number of new scars. So unless you joined a fight club without telling me, I’d say you two had something to do with this guy’s death.”

  I smiled. “Well, you know the first rule of fight club,” I said.

  “Seriously, though,” Scarlett continued. “What happened?”

  My expression turned serious and I glanced at Ange. “We can’t talk about it,” I said flatly.

  Ange took over with a much more sensitive approach. “There are going to be things that we can’t be fully open with you about,” she said. “It’s not that we don’t trust you. It’s… to protect you. Knowledge can be dangerous sometimes. You understand?”

  She thought for a moment, then gave a slight nod. It quickly faded into a big smile. “Sounds like a yes to me,” she beamed. “I knew it.”

  Ange pressed her hand to her face, and I shook my head. “You’re too smart for your own good sometimes, you know that?” I said.

  She chuckled, then slid her thumb and index finger across her closed mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

  Later that afternoon, I got a call from Jack. He asked if I could meet him at the marina to help him handle some personal stuff regarding Gus’s death. I told him I’d be right there. He also mentioned that Scott was in town and wanted to meet with me for dinner that evening.

  After ending the call, I rose to my feet up on the bow and stretched. “Well,” I said, “I think we’ve had sufficient fun and sun for one day.”

  They both protested, but since Jack needed to see me, they grudgingly complied. They were both in love with the ocean, as much as I was. The truth is I could spend all day every day out on the water in the Keys and never get sick of it. The water, warm weather, fresh ocean breeze, beautiful marine life, and the comfort of a nice boat were Heaven on earth.

  Scarlett helped me with the windlass, and we quickly brought the anchor up into place. I started up the engines and cruised us back to Key West.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Jack met us at our slip when we pulled back into the Conch Harbor Marina. He tied us off, then peered up at me through a pair of sunglasses after I shut off the engines. He was dressed in a blue polo shirt and cargo shorts, instead of his usual nothing but board shorts. He was also wearing his nice sandals.

  “Good to see you, Scar,” he said as she climbed onto the dock and gave him a big hug.

  “Hey, Uncle Jack. What’s with the digs? You going to a formal party or something?”

  I chuckled. The words formal and party were a bit of an oxymoron in the Keys.

  “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “You guys have a good dive?”

  He helped us lug the empty air tanks onto the dock. I motioned toward the marina office and told Scarlett to wheel over a cart so we could charge them up. When I looked over, I spotted a short guy wearing a suit and holding a brown briefcase in front of the office door. He had his hands crossed in front of him and was looking straight toward us.

  “Sure thing,” Scarlett said, bounding down the dock.

  Jack followed my gaze, then looked back at me. “That’s Gordon Webber. He’s a local lawyer. He’s here to handle Gus’s estate.”

  He was far away, but I recognized him. His face was on a few local bus stops with a thumbs-up and the word “Injured?” in big bold letters.

  “He needs to see you too, bro,” Jack added.

  “Me? You sure?”

  He nodded. “Apparently. That’s what he said anyway. Said he couldn’t talk about anything until we were both with him.” He shrugged and added, “Guess we’ll find out why together.”

  I paused, then turned to Ange, who was putting our dried wetsuits on hangers. She told me to go on ahead and that she’d take care of the boat.

  I kissed her on the forehead and said, “Thanks. I’m sure this will be quick. I’ll wash down the gear when I get back.”

  I dropped down into the saloon and threw on a fresh T-shirt and a pair of brown cargo shorts I had in my bag before meeting Jack up on the dock. We strolled over to the office. We passed by Scarlett who was pushing the cart, and I asked her to go and help Ange. We approached the lawyer, who was still standing in front of the marina office door.

  “Gordon Webber,” he said in a Southern drawl, extending a hand to me.

  He looked even shorter up close. Probably five and a half feet tall. His brown hair had gray patches, and he had a slightly rounded waistline. He looked at me with serious green eyes.

  We shook hands, and I replied, “Logan Dodge. Jack said you need to talk to me.”

  He nodded, let go of my hand, and motioned behind him.

  “Please, come inside,” he said.

  He opened the door for us, and we filed into the small office. On one side, there was a big beanbag chair and a television. Shelves of DVDs flanked the TV. It was where Gus was usually found, especially on a hot day.

  The other side of the room had a small counter, a desktop computer, and a few stools. Jack and I sat facing Gordon, who opened his briefcase and pulled out a bound stack of white papers. The one on top said “Last Will and Testament.”

  “As you both may or may not know, I’ve been Gus’s lawyer for over twenty years,” Gordon said. He paused a moment, looking out through one of the side windows toward the marina, then collected himself. “Though for most of that time, I only knew him as my friend. I don’t have to tell you what a great man Key West has lost.”

  He set Gus’s will on the counter and flipped over the first page.

  “As much as I look forward to Gus’s celebration of life, there is business to attend to.” He cleared his throat. “Did Gus ever show this to either of you?”

  We both shook our heads.

  “Well, as you both are aware, Mr. Henderson had a considerable amount of assets to his name when he died.” He slid a pair of glasses from his pocket, put them on, then picked up the will and scanned it over. “‘My house is to be sold and the proceeds donated to the Florida Keys Reef Relief Foundation,’” he read. “‘My family’s pride and joy, the Conch Harbor Marina, is to be left to my good friend, Jack Rubio.’”

  I tried to hold back the tears as they welled up in my eyes. He’d always been a good soul, but donating his house to charity and giving his baby to Jack was nothing short of incredible. A true testament to his character.

  Jack teared up as well but shook
his head as the last words left Gordon’s lips. “No way, man,” he said. “I can’t take over the Conch. It’s been in the Henderson family forever.”

  Gordon paused and cleared his throat. “Gus is gone, Jack,” he said, softening his voice. “And he didn’t have any living family. He wanted you to have it. He knew you’d take care of it and keep up the tradition.”

  I patted my friend on the shoulder. When he looked over at me, I shot him a wink. He took in a deep breath and let it out.

  “Alright,” he said. “I guess if it’s what Gus wanted.”

  Gordon smiled and directed his gaze back to the Will.

  “Just out of curiosity,” I said, “what exactly did you need me here for?”

  I mean, it was cool seeing Jack’s reaction and hearing his final wishes, but I just didn’t see how it pertained to me.

  “Because there’s more,” Gordon said. His expression turned to a smile and he even laughed a little before reading the rest. “‘And if that conch beach bum gets lazy and doesn’t take care of the marina and keep up its traditions, Logan Dodge has my permission to smack him over the head.’”

  All three of us laughed at that.

  Gordon went through the process of transferring ownership of the marina to Jack. I was amazed at how quickly it happened. A few signed papers and a handshake from Gordon and he was on his way. He loaded his stuff back into his briefcase, then we walked alongside him back outside. We’d only been in the office for half an hour.

  We said goodbye to Gordon, and as he walked toward the shore, Jack and I turned and looked out over the marina.

  Jack shook his head, his eyes wide and sullen. “I can’t do this, bro,” he said. “I don’t know the first thing about running a marina.”

  “You’re gonna be fine, Jack,” I said, patting him on the back. “Though I’m probably gonna have to smack you over the head every now and then,” I joked, but he remained stoic.

  “I’m serious, bro. I’m just a charter captain.”

  “You’ll figure it out, Jack. And Ange and I are here to help you. Though I’d recommend hiring someone to man the office. Sitting in there and dealing with people all day isn’t exactly your style.”

  I patted him on the back. “Come on,” I said. “Help me rinse down our gear, then we’ll go to Pete’s for dinner.”

  “What about the office, bro? Who’s gonna be there to help people if I leave?”

  I thought for a moment. “I think the place will be fine for one night.”

  When we reached the Calypso, the entire deck was clean and organized. They’d even taken care of the dive tanks. Ange and Scarlett walked up from the saloon just as we arrived, laughing and drinking coconut waters.

  “Thanks for taking care of everything, Ange,” I said, stepping over and hugging her.

  “You owe me some steamed shrimp and conch fritters,” she said with a grin.

  “Both of us, you mean,” Scarlett corrected her.

  They looked over Jack and me, then Ange said, “What’d the suit guy want?”

  We told them what had happened. As sad as losing Gus was, both Ange and Scarlett were glad to hear that Jack was going to own the marina and not some stranger.

  “You’re gonna do great, Uncle Jack,” Scarlett said.

  “Can’t think of anyone who could do better now that Gus has passed,” Ange said. “Though you might want to hire someone to manage the office.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

  After locking up the Calypso, the four of us headed down the dock, with Atticus trotting out in front and the sun dropping at our backs. We loaded up into the Tacoma and drove over to Pete’s.

  “You said Scott called you?” I said to Jack.

  “Not called. He was at the marina. Came looking for you, but I told him we’d see him at Pete’s for dinner.”

  I checked my phone when we stopped at a red light. I hadn’t received any messages or missed calls. It felt strange that he wouldn’t contact me, but I’d known Scott for many years and he often acted in seemingly strange ways. And he had a flair for the dramatic.

  I pulled us into the lot. Hopping out, Atticus walked over and settled into his favorite spot outside under a gumbo-limbo tree beside the door. We went inside and headed straight for the stairs. The place was busy down in the main dining area, but nearly packed up on the balcony. Thankfully, Pete saved us a couple seats at an end table.

  After greeting us, the old sea dog turned his full attention to Jack.

  “Well, if it isn’t the newest Conch Marina owner,” he said happily. “I’m glad it’s yours. Gus made a good decision.”

  “How did you already hear about that?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “It literally just happened, man.”

  “Everyone’s heard about it, Jack,” he said, raising his voice.

  A few of the locals within earshot clapped, hollered, and raised their beers to Jack.

  The Coconut Telegraph strikes again. It moves swifter than the wind in the Keys.

  We all sat down, settled in, and ordered drinks and appetizers.

  “So, what are your plans for the marina, Jackie?” Pete said.

  Jack shook his head. “This is all so sudden, man, I don’t know,” he said. “Though I would like to erect some kind of memorial statue dedicated to Gus and the entire Henderson family.”

  We all nodded at that. It was a good idea.

  Jack glanced at me and shot me a sly smile. “Then I think I’m gonna hike up the rates,” he added. “Starting with slip twenty-four.”

  We all laughed at that.

  “Nice to see you’re not letting the power go to your head,” I joked.

  As the drinks arrived, Pete leaned in close to me. “I nearly forgot. Scott’s here and wants to talk to you,” he said. He motioned toward the sliding glass door. “He’s in my office. Said he wanted it to be just the two of you.”

  I excused myself from the group, weaved through the throng of people, then entered the museum portion of the joint. Walking past rows of glass cases and various artifacts, I opened the door on the far side of the room. As I entered Pete’s office, Scott was standing in front of the desk and admiring a small black metal box.

  It was one of the only items we’d taken up from a German U-boat we’d found sunk roughly thirteen miles south off the coast of Islamorada. After two months of searching the wreck, the small seemingly insignificant box of spare parts had solved the final part of a mystery that many had believed to be nothing more than a myth.

  “That’s how we identified it,” I said, motioning toward the artifact.

  “U-3546,” he said, reading the identification tag.

  I shut the door behind me and walked over to greet my longtime friend. He set the box on the desk in front of him, then turned and shook my hand. Instead of his usual official suit, tie, and American flag pin, he was wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a ball cap. I’d only seen him dressed so casually a handful of times since he’d sworn into office.

  “Good to see you, Scottie,” I said. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me you were coming to town.”

  He nodded as I stepped away from him. I smiled, then shrugged.

  “Well, you’ve officially sparked my curiosity,” I added. “What’s going on?”

  He sighed. “It’s been a long couple of days dealing with the whole Wake situation,” he said. “It’s nice to be down here. I needed to get away for a bit.” He paused, then added, “You and Ange sure did good back in Miami.”

  “You too, brother. We all did good. But Wake’s dead now. This is a time for you to sit back and reap the rewards of a job well done, right?”

  He leaned up against the edge of the desk. Folded his arms.

  “Any word on Brier?” I asked, trying to figure out what was going on inside his head. “Were they able to track the helicopter he ran away on?”

  “The echo vanished just after flying into South America. We don’t know where he is, but to be honest, he’s not the majo
r concern at the moment.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “The major concern?”

  Scott paused. I could tell that he was dealing with a lot, could almost see the weight of the situation pressing down on his shoulders.

  “Wake’s fortune is the major concern,” he said.

  “Why doesn’t the government just seize it? It was all earned illegally anyway, right? Besides, grabbing money any way it can is the government’s bread and butter.”

  “We would.” Scott paused a moment. “But it’s been… tricky. Wake’s will is solid. And his lawyer is smart and headstrong. He’s going to make sure that Wake’s final wishes are realized.”

  “And, just out of curiosity, what were Wake’s final wishes?” I asked. “And don’t tell me he left all his money to Brier. Though he shouldn’t be too hard to convict at this point if you can find him.”

  Scott shook his head. “Wake didn’t leave anything to Brier. He left his entire fortune, an estimated six billion dollars, to his son.”

  My mouth dropped open. I stepped back and plopped down into one of Pete’s leather chairs.

  Wake’s son?

  I didn’t know much about the kid, but I knew enough to have ruled out the possibility of his getting any of his father’s dough, let alone the whole damn trove.

  “I thought they hated each other,” I said.

  “So did we. So did everyone. The only person who isn’t caught off guard is Wake’s lawyer, since he already knew.”

  “Any idea where he is? The son?”

  Scott shook his head. “Nobody seems to know. He ran away a year ago. Jumped completely off the grid.”

  “Murph can’t find him?”

  He shook his head. “He thinks he’s somewhere in Texas. But the whiz’s still working on it, so hopefully we pinpoint him soon.”

  “What are you gonna do when you find him?”

  “I don’t know. The kid’s an anomaly. He graduated near the top of his class at Columbia. Was a collegiate swimmer. A highly competitive martial artist. And was widely popular among his circle. Word was Richard was grooming the kid to be the head of his company one day. But they had some kind of falling out. Not really sure the specifics of it. But the kid took off. Just left everything less than a week after finishing graduate school.”