by Mac Fortner
I surmised, by the “LKMC” on the Doctor’s coat, that I was in the Lower Keys Medical Center.
“How’s the young lady who was with me when you arrived?” I asked Diane, still in a whisper.
“She was fine, but you were naked—big shock.”
“Oh, you noticed, huh?”
“I said, ‘shock.’”
“Oh, I thought you said...”
“I know what you thought I said. Anyway, she left as soon as she helped me dress you, and after I’d called an ambulance. And you have been written on.”
“Yes, I heard about that.”
“Mustache, ‘kick me’ and a phone number on your, uh, big shock.”
“A phone number on me, down there?” and I pointed at my cock.
“Yes, in lipstick.”
“You didn’t wipe it off, did you? Evidence you know.”
“No, we were going to copy it, but we need to wait until the rest of the numbers are showing. You know, when you are feeling better, and stronger.”
“Funny. I wonder why she left? She seemed to be sincerely concerned.”
“Maybe she got to know you better.”
Diane and I talk like this all the time, but we really do care for each other. She is my secretary-slash-accountant-slash-advisor-slash-everything else she thinks I need. She’s only thirty-two, but very wise in the ways of the world. She has a Doctorate in Psychiatry and practices it on me constantly. Her father was my partner in a law firm that ran into a bit of trouble. He was killed; I was disbarred. Her mother died in a car crash a year before that.
My wife Malinda and I took Diane in when she was fifteen, and she has been with me ever since.
For the past five years, my wife has been missing. We had a good marriage, but she just disappeared without a trace. I did the usual search for her, and then five times more. If she were out there on her own, I would have found her. I suspect foul play was involved. She was out on her boat when she disappeared. It was found six months later in a boatyard in the Bahamas. That’s when I started my investigation on the boat-jackers. I’ll never quit searching for her.
Diane’s a very lovely, five foot two inches of dynamite with blonde hair to the center of her back. It keeps me busy just screening the boyfriends. Now she’s seen me naked, I will never live this one down.
“Do they call you Derringer because of the small gun?” Diane said.
Here we go.
“Wait until I feel better at least. Don’t kick me when I’m down.”
“But the sign says, ‘Kick me,’” she said, holding her fingers up in quotation marks.
I laughed. “Ouch! Don’t make me laugh,” but then the door opened, and Sheriff Willie Buck walked in.
Chapter 4
Sheriff Buck was a slightly overweight man who had been in Key West for about ten years. He’d helped me in my search for Malinda, but without any luck.
His large frame and rough voice usually forced confessions from criminals without even needing to touch them.
“Well, Derringer, you really pissed someone off this time,” he said in his gruff voice. He rested his hand on the nine-millimeter he carried in a western style holster tied to his leg.
“Hello to you too.”
“Did you get the number of the truck?” Buck asked.
“I think it was a tank. Anyway, it hit me from behind. I never saw it.”
“Who do you think would want you killed, or maybe warned?”
“Lots of people, unfortunately.”
“Cam, you live by the gun, you die by the gun,” he said. It was his favorite saying, and I’d heard it on more than one occasion.
“It was probably just someone who needed a nice suit,” I joked.
“I can see you’re not going to help me find the guys. You need to be more careful. One of these days I’m going to be looking down at you in the morgue.”
“I’ll let you know if I find out who it was. I’ll deliver them to you myself.”
Looking at Diane, Buck said, “Try to talk some sense into him. It’s for his own good.”
“I’ll try, but you know how that goes,” she said.
“Keep an eye out for my billfold. Driver’s license, credit cards and all that,” I said.
“See ya’ around, Derringer. Call me if you need me,” and Buck tipped his hat to Diane as he left.
Diane left the room too. She said she was going to get a drink and would be right back. I took the opportunity to pull the sheets back to see if I really had a phone number on my cock. I did. I couldn’t see well enough to read it, and it did look like a few numbers weren’t visible. Someone was really funny. They knew I would have to be erect to read the whole thing, but how did they get it written on there in the first place?
I pulled the covers back and looked up. Diane was watching me.
“Can you read it yet?” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“No, but if I could get a little privacy, I might be able to.”
“And a magnifying glass.”
“No, it’s just that my eyes are blurry.”
“The first five numbers are 351 66,” Diane said.
“How do you know that?”
“I read them.”
“Gees.”
“Don’t be so modest.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Yes, but you’re a dirty old man.”
I spent the night in the hospital.
The next morning, Diane showed up with some clothes for me. She helped me dress and waited with me for the doctor.
He gave me a prescription for Percocet.
A nurse wheeled me to Diane’s car, and together they helped me in.
The weather was muggy as usual, but the sun was shining, and it was a beautiful sight. It was nice to be a free man again.
We stopped on the way home at CVS and filled the prescription. I took one immediately.
The houseboat-slash-office was located at the end of a dock that held five other houseboats. Diane opened the gate, which had a chain and lock hanging on the rusted bars. The hinges squeaked when she pushed it open. That was about the amount of our security—a warning squeak. The lock hadn’t been used for years. I’m sure it would take a cutting torch to open it now.
“Hey, Cam, what happened to you?” came the voice of Stacy. She and Barbie lived on the first boat. Both were in their mid-thirties. They worked as waitresses at Coyote Ugly, proving the name of the place very misleading.
“Nothing, I just slipped,” I said back to her in a whispery voice.
“Let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Diane said. “Two gorgeous blonds in bikinis waiting on you.”
“Maybe they could read the number.”
“I think it was put on there by the girl who helped you. The lipstick matched.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Interesting. She saw the big gun and wanted me to call her.”
We passed the other boats, but no one seemed to be home. They usually weren’t. They were owned by snowbirds that came down here to escape the frigid temperatures of home.
I had to step up to get on my boat. Not such an easy task for someone in my condition. Diane had spent the night here and had cleaned the place up. She had the refrigerator stocked with food and beer. There was a bottle of Wild Turkey sitting on the table next to my chair and some beer in the fridge for her.
“I turned your bed down. Would you like for me to help you in?”
“No thanks. I’m going to sit out back, have a drink and ponder the situation for a while.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea with the Percocet.”
I gave her the look.
~*~
Diane fixed me a drink, opened a beer and joined me on the fantail-slash-patio.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“I think whoever did this had something
to do with the boat-jackings.”
“Probably, but there are other people who have a score to settle with you too.”
“Yeah, but they said back-off. I’m not pressuring anyone else right now.”
“Were you close to something there?”
“I was just getting close. I think it’s all drug-related. These guys are hi-jacking boats and using them to smuggle drugs. After they’re delivered, they take the boats somewhere else and sell them on the black market. Then they get new paint and numbers and are sold at seemingly legitimate boat sales.”
“Can you prove any of this?” she asked.
“No, not yet. It’s just a theory right now.”
“And the previous owners, what happens to them?”
“Overboard is my guess.”
“You’re thinking about Malinda, aren’t you?”
“It could have happened to her. I hope not.”
Chapter 5
The next morning when I woke, I actually felt a little better. I was still sore but could manage to get up on my own and go to the bathroom. I must have been feeling better because I could read the rest of the phone number. I got a pen from the nightstand and copied it down.
I showered and went through the living area to the kitchen, still naked, to get some breakfast.
“Oh, I see you’re feeling better this morning,” Diane said.
“Whoops, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Did you write it down?”
I covered myself the best I could with my hands and backed out of the room. “Yeah, I got it covered.”
“Not all of it,” she teased.
I dressed and went back in the kitchen where Diane was making breakfast; bacon and eggs, toast and coffee.
“Perfect. Smells delicious,” I said.
We ate on the patio and made small talk about the weather.
She asked how I was feeling.
“Better, sore but better.”
“Are you going to call the number?”
“Yes, I am. I don’t know what it’s about, but I need to know. It could have something to do with what happened to me.”
“I think it has something to do with what is going to happen to you.”
“Either way, I need to know.”
I dialed the number. A lady answered on the third ring.
“Hello,” she said in a sleepy voice.
“Hello, this is Cam Derringer. Who might I be speaking to?”
“Well, Cam, I guess you’re feeling better, or you wouldn’t have my number,” now in a very sexy voice.
“Is this Jenny?”
“How many girls do you pass out in front of?”
“A few, but you’re the only one who has ever left their number on me. How did you manage to do that?”
“I had to stretch things a little. With a little coaxing, it cooperated.”
“You’re an interesting girl, Jenny.”
“If you ever feel like company, call me. I can make you feel better,” she said in a sensuous voice.
“And if I call you, what would I use for a last name?”
“You can use Jacobs.”
“Will do. Bye for now.”
She said, “Goodbye,” and hung up.
“You were right. It is something that is going to happen to me,” I said.
“Only you could get a date while passed out. You’re something else.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 6
I went back to my desk, retrieved my notes from the last three years, and returned to the patio.
“I had to have missed something. I was prepared for trouble, but not from behind and not yet. Someone I trusted must have been working with them.”
“Maybe they saw you asking too many questions too many times,” Diane said.
“Could be.”
I called Jack Stiller, my partner, and confidant on this case. He was a top-notch investigator. I got no answer.
“I’ll try him again later. Must have had a hard night.”
He had been known to stay out a little too late and party with the ladies. Once, when we were working on an infidelity case, he went missing for three days. Turned out he was in Vegas with the woman he was hired to tail. Luckily, her husband never found out. It turned out he was having more affairs than she was, and he was physically abusive to her to boot.
I went over the rest of the papers. Nothing really jumped out at me. If it were the Mexican Cartel, I probably wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway, but also, if it were them, they would have killed me, not warned me.
I heard the gate squeak and felt footsteps on the dock. I closed the folder and dropped it into the live well beside my chair. I always protected my paperwork.
“Good morning, Derringer,” Sheriff Buck said.
“Good morning, Willie. Like some coffee?”
“Naw, it’s official. I need all your notes on the boat-jacking cases. I know you’ve been working on them, and so does the FBI. They say you’re getting in their way and they want you to back off.”
“Back off? Was that their exact words?”
“That’s what they said. You want to get those notes.”
“I don’t have them. Whoever did this to me ram-sacked my boat and took them.”
“Cam, if you don’t give them to me, they’ll come and get them. They let me come as a favor,” Sheriff Buck said.
“Really, I don’t have them.”
Willie looked at me for a minute and then at Diane. “You couldn’t talk any sense into him I guess.”
“He’s like a closed door,” she said.
“Okay, Cam, I’ll tell them you got robbed. You had better hide them before they get here, though. If you decide to come to your senses, give them to me, not the FBI.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if they get them they’ll be gone, and we’ll never solve the mystery.”
“Sure you don’t want any coffee?”
“I’m sure. I’m already too jittery. Oh, and by the way, I have something for you.”
He pulled my wallet out of his pocket and handed it to me. “One of my men found it along Blimp Road, close to where you were found.”
“Thank you,” I said and took the wallet.
I looked through it. The money was gone, but the cards were all there.
“Well, that saves me a lot of trouble. Your man didn’t steal my money, did he?” I asked, grinning.
“No, but you can make a claim. How much did you have?”
“Let’s see,” I said. “Including the twenty I had hidden behind my license, I would say, twenty-two dollars.”
“I’ll see you later. Bye, Diane,”
“Goodbye, Willie,” Diane said.
“Thanks again,” I called after the sheriff as he left.
I took the case notes back out and looked at them again.
“I wonder why they really want me to ‘back off’?”
“You’re in their way.”
“Those are the exact words the thugs who beat me used.”
“So, you think the FBI had you beaten and warned to back off.”
“Yeah, I kind of think that. If they did, they'd be really sorry. I’ll make their lives miserable.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. You know you can’t go up against them.”
“Would you mind taking the notes home with you?”
“Why not,” she said. “I might as well be on the top ten most wanted with you.”
“Thank you. You are a good sport.”
“Okay, I have some work to do and a few patients to see this afternoon. If you need anything, call me.”
“Thanks, Diane, I love you.”
“I love you too, Cam,” Diane said and kissed me on the cheek.
“Here, don’t forget these,” and I handed her the notes.
She took them and left.
Chapter 7
I called Jack again; still no answer.
I decided to go into
town and revisit the scene of the crime, taking my Mercedes SL 350 to Front Street where I parked. I walked the boardwalk to the marina and down to the slip where the boat was docked a few nights ago. The slip was empty. A forty-two-foot Sea Ray had been parked there the last time I was here. It matched the description of one reported missing in Marathon Key a few weeks ago. The numbers and the name had been removed. I was sure it would have new ones by now. Last week, while I was looking it over in the dark and jotting down a description, I was whacked from behind and thrashed.
I looked around the docks but didn’t see anything or anyone out of the ordinary. The boat already had a search posted for it, so it wasn’t going to do me any good going to the police. If it turned up, I would know. I have people.
While I was down here, I decided to go to Sloppy Joe’s and have a drink. It wasn’t very crowded this time of day, and there were no cruise ships in port.
I took a seat near the open windows so I could watch the street and the people in it walking by.
“Here ya go, Derringer,” a young and very charming waitress said as she set down my Wild Turkey.
“Thank you, Tanya. Join me?”
“I’ll be right back.”
Tanya returned a minute later with her own drink. She had her thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Her large breasts were spilling out of her sheer white tank top, and her mini dress left little to the imagination. Still, I imagined.
I had helped Tanya out of a jam two years ago. She sold Marijuana to an undercover agent and was busted. She was looking at five years in prison. I might have lost my law license but not my pull. Since Tanya was a friend of Malinda’s, I pulled a few strings and got her off with community service. As far as I know, she has been on the straight and narrow ever since.
“So, Cam, what happened to you? You look a little weathered,” she said, looking at the cuts and bruises on my face.
“I had a run in with some ghosts. At least, I couldn’t see them.”
“I think you should go back to practicing law.”
“I would if they would let me, but they won’t.”
“That was a bum rap. You should still be practicing, and Jim Dade should still be alive,” she said.