The Hound of the Sanibel Sunset Detective

by Ron Base

  He thought about it and then said, “I don’t think it was a question of whether I loved her. I think the problem was she stopped loving me.”

  “She says she doesn’t think you ever loved her.”

  “What can I say, Rex. That would not be my read of the situation. Not that it makes any difference at this point.”

  They fell silent. Various night sounds floated across the stern of the Former Actor Too. In the distance, Tree heard the thin sound of a passing car on McGregor Boulevard. Rex rubbed his hand across his face, a gesture he had not seen his old friend perform since their Chicago days when there was ratings pressure at WBBM-TV. Or a former wife was complaining about a late alimony payment. Or one of his kids was in trouble.

  “You see, the thing of it is, I am crazy about this woman—this woman who is your ex-wife. This woman I introduced you to, for God’s sake.”

  “Only Kelly could get you drunk and keep you up this late at night.”

  “What I can’t tell, the unsolved mystery, I can’t tell how this woman, this ex-wife of yours, feels about me.” He rubbed his face again and then looked blearily at Tree. “How do you know that, Tree? How can you tell—how did you know when Freddie was crazy about you?”

  “Easy enough. She told me.”

  That reduced Rex to another bout of silence and more face massaging. “There you go,” Rex said finally. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “The only thing I would say, and it’s kind of late at night and you’re sort of out of it, Rex, but for you and Kelly it’s still early days. Relax and enjoy what the two of you have, and sort of let it develop from there.”

  “I don’t think she likes me,” he said.

  “That’s crazy,” Tree said. “How can you say she doesn’t like you?”

  “Okay, maybe she likes me, but that’s as far as it goes. I irritate her, I think. At least she gives me that impression.”

  “Everybody irritates Kelly from time to time,” Tree said. “She’s an impatient woman, and she’s floundering right now. For years her identity was built around being a Chicago TV personality. She loved it, loved all the attention.”

  “I know she did,” Rex said. “Who didn’t?”

  “Now she’s lost that, and she’s suffering.”

  “She could be happy with me,” Rex said. “I could make her happy.”

  “I think you would make her a lot happier if you didn’t stay out late and get drunk. She must be concerned and wondering where you are.”

  “I don’t think she gives a damn,” Rex said.

  “Of course she does.”

  He shook his head in wonderment. “First time I’ve had a fight with a woman in I don’t know how many years. I’d forgotten how sick it can make you feel.”

  “I’m going to drive you home, Rex. This will all look different in the morning.”

  “What? You can’t stay up and talk to an old buddy about his woman troubles?”

  “It’s late, and I’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

  “Full day? Hey, you’re retired, remember?”

  “Yeah, right,” Tree said, getting to his feet. “Sometimes I forget.”

  “Tree Callister. The ex-Sanibel Sunset detective. So much for reinvention. Didn’t work out so well, did it?”

  Tree said, “Give me your car keys, Rex.”

  “I’m okay to drive,” Rex said. “I don’t need some retired guy driving me around.”

  “Come on. Don’t argue. Hand over the keys.”

  Rex sighed and groped in his pocket. “It’s not keys anymore,” he said. “It’s a key. And it’s not even a key.”

  He tossed the key to Tree. He tried his best to catch it, but he fumbled the catch. Rex chortled. “You never were any good at sports. You were never much good at anything—except you were a pretty damned good reporter.” Rex paused and thought about it. “There is one other thing you’re good at.”

  “Being a detective?” Tree said.

  “No, you’re not much of a detective, either. I’ll tell you what you’re good at, Tree. You’re very good at being my friend.”

  “Then I don’t need much more than that,” Tree said.

  He helped Rex to his feet.

  31

  The driver’s side door of Rex’s prized Dodge Challenger Hellcat had been left open in the lot adjacent to the Gulf Harbor clubhouse. Tree got Rex into the passenger seat and then went around and slipped behind the wheel. Rex was snoring by the time he started the engine. It was like awakening a monster in its cave. The sound of that motor made Tree nervous. He gripped the T shifter and shoved it into reverse. The Hellcat jerked back and brought Rex awake. He sat up groggily. “What are you doing?” he said in a slurry voice.

  “I’m driving you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I’m okay.”

  “I know, but humor me, will you?”

  “Okay. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let you behind the wheel of this Hellcat. But it’s in valet mode right now, so I guess it’s okay.”

  “Valet mode?”

  “It means no one but me can drive it full out.”

  “Good. I don’t want to drive this thing full out,” Tree said.

  Rex reached forward and fumbled with the glove compartment. The lid dropped down with a loud clunk. He pulled the gun out and held it up so that the otherworldly glow from the dashboard touchscreen gleamed off its surface.

  “What’s that?” Tree said.

  “You’re fairly new to South Florida, so you wouldn’t know. This is what the locals call an equalizer. Folks from out of state refer to it as a gun. The Glock 17, the weapon of choice for police officers all over America.”

  “Except you’re not a police officer. What are you doing with it?”

  “What do you think I’m doing? I’m protecting myself—and my Hellcat.”

  “Why don’t you put the gun back where you found it?”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “You don’t. The gun does.”

  “You should get yourself one of these babies.”

  “Please, Rex. Do me a favor. Put it away.”

  Rex made a grumbling sound, but he replaced the Glock in the glove compartment. Tree breathed a sigh of relief. Rex’s head fell back against the headrest and a couple of moments later he resumed his loud snoring.

  There was little traffic at that time of the morning as Tree guided the Dodge Challenger across the causeway onto Sanibel Island. Rex’s place was dark as Tree pulled into the drive. He turned off the engine, and nudged his sleeping friend. He snapped awake. “Yeah? What is it?”

  “We’re home.”

  “How did we get here?”

  “I drove you.”

  “Are you out of your mind? The Hellcat’s not in valet mode.”

  “I thought you said it was.”

  “Nobody but me can drive this car. For everyone else, it’s valet mode.”

  Tree got out and went around to the passenger side and helped Rex out. He practically had to drag his friend up to the front door. “Now what are you doing?” Rex demanded.

  “Making sure you get home safely.”

  “That used to be my job with you,” Rex said.

  “Many times, old friend. Many times.”

  The front door opened and a tousled-looking Kelly stood there in a white bathrobe. She cocked an eyebrow and said, “Here is something I never thought I’d see. My ex-husband, sober, bringing my drunk boyfriend home late at night.”

  “I ended up drunk,” Rex said. “Must have been something I ate.”

  Kelly sighed. “What is it about me that drives men to drink—don’t answer that, Tree. Just bring him inside, please.”

  “I’m okay,” Rex protested. “A little wobbly, that’s all. It’s this cold. I haven’t been able to shake it.”

  Tree helped his friend through the house, past the gigantic poster of I Died A Thousand Times, Rex’s only concession to his long-ago life as a Hollywood B-movie actor. One half
of the king-size bed had been slept in. Kelly squeezed past and pulled back the covers to allow Tree to perch Rex on the mattress. Rex sat there for a couple of moments, picking absently at the buttons of his shirt. Then he gave up and sank back and started to snore.

  Kelly stared down at the sleeping Rex. To Tree’s surprise, her features were soft with concern. “This business of relationships is hard on Rex,” she said. “I think he finds it a whole lot easier to play the hail-fellow-well-met president of the Chamber of Commerce.”

  She looked up from Rex and turned her gaze on Tree, as if expecting him to say something.

  “He’ll sleep it off” was all Tree could think of to say.

  “Yes,” she said. “He will do that. Men always do. They always sleep it off.”

  “I’d better get back,” Tree said.

  She followed him out of the bedroom. At the front door she put her hand on his arm and said, “Thanks for bringing him home.”

  “Tell him I stole his car,” Tree said. “He can pick it up tomorrow.”

  “He’s overreacting to a silly little fight,” she said.

  “He’s crazy about you,” Tree said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “That makes him vulnerable, and Rex isn’t used to that, not around these parts. Here he’s pampered.”

  “What about you, Tree? Are you pampered, too?”

  Tree smiled. “I’m not in Rex’s league. I’m still out there in the world fighting the dragons.”

  “That’s what makes you an interesting story.”

  “I doubt it,” Tree said.

  “So you’re not hiding out on Rex’s boat?”

  “Let’s put it this way. Until we get the house straightened around, we’re staying on the boat.”

  “Have it your way,” Kelly said. “But I know there’s a story, and I’m going to get it out of you.”

  “In the meantime, take care of our boy, will you?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Kelly said. “But I’m not sure what he needs.”

  “A little love would probably do the trick,” Tree said.

  Kelly gave a tired smile and squeezed his arm. “Thanks again, Tree.”

  32

  He might have said a lot of things to Kelly, he thought as he drove back along deserted Periwinkle Way.

  He could have asked her, for example, what she was doing with her life, and question whether a relationship with Rex Baxter was really in the best interest of either party. Kelly, he suspected, was never going to commit herself fully, not in the way lonely Rex wanted a commitment. But then what did he know about Kelly so many years after their marriage? And what business was it of his, anyway? They were adults. They could take care of themselves. Well, mostly they could take care of themselves. Every once in a while, Rex might need help.

  Like right now.

  The guard on duty at Gulf Harbor recognized Tree, glanced appreciatively at the Hellcat, before lifting the gate to allow him inside. He drove to the parking lot adjacent to the clubhouse and got out of the vehicle, stretching his cramped legs. Exhaustion washed over him. He took a deep breath. The night air smelled clean. The stars sparkled against a clear black sky, distracting the onlooker from the view of three figures darting out of the shadows and onto the dock.

  Tree watched the three forms in the darkness, allowing the reality of them to sink in. He wheeled back to the Hellcat for Rex’s Glock. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

  He came onto the dock. The three forms huddled close by the Former Actor Too. They were in black and in the uncertain light, their faces appeared to be covered by Mexican wrestling masks decorated with skulls. They turned in surprise as Tree approached. His heart beat so fast and loud, he was sure the intruders would hear and know he wasn’t much of a threat.

  “What can I do for you?” he called to them.

  The men didn’t say anything for a time, as though deciding what Tree could do for them. Then one called out in a raspy voice: “Is this boat for sale?”

  Tree realized with a start this had to be Raspy-voice Guy.

  “You want to buy a boat at this time of morning?”

  “Best time to look,” Raspy-voice Guy said. “No traffic.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t go looking for a boat wearing masks,” Tree observed. He further noted Pockmarked Guy was not wearing a straw hat, so it was difficult to identify him or Balding Guy for that matter. But he had no doubt as to their identities. “What are those? Mexican wrestling masks?”

  “We’re Mexican wrestlers,” Raspy-voice guy said.

  “I thought so,” Tree said.

  “All right, then, why don’t you just give us the dog and we’ll leave you alone.”

  “I don’t know what dog you’re talking about,” Tree said.

  From inside the boat, Clinton began to bark.

  “That dog,” said Raspy-voice Guy.

  “That’s a cat,” Tree said.

  “We will take the cat,” Raspy-voice Guy said.

  Tree raised his hand so that the intruders could see the moonlit Glock. “No,” he said. “You won’t.”

  “No need for that,” said Raspy-voice Guy in a reasonable voice.

  “That’s what I keep telling myself,” Tree said.

  “We don’t want trouble. No one gets hurt—if we take the dog.”

  “Tell me something,” Tree said. “What’s the big deal about the dog? Why do you want him so badly?”

  “You tell me,” Raspy-voice Guy replied. “You’re the one willing to shoot people in order to hang onto him.”

  Freddie appeared on the aft deck holding tight to a barking, snarling Clinton.

  “Tree?” Freddie called. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, come off the boat, Freddie.”

  “Why are these guys standing there?”

  “Because if they do anything, I’m going to shoot them.”

  “You’re kidding,” Freddie said. “What are you doing with a gun?”

  “Just come off the boat, Freddie. Step off the back and be careful.”

  Freddie did as she was instructed. The three men didn’t move—the power of the gun. Freddie joined Tree on the dock. Clinton, held taut on his leash, lunged and barked.

  “I can’t believe you have a gun,” Freddie said. “Where did you get a gun?”

  Tree said, “Freddie, I want you to take the key I’m going to hand you, and then I want you to go up to the parking lot, start the car, and bring it as close to the dock as you can. As soon as you’ve done that, I want you to sound the horn. Okay?”

  Freddie pulled Clinton away and hurried off the dock into the darkness. Tree started backing away from the trio.

  “This is the part where I say, Stay where you are,” Tree said.

  “I don’t think you’re going to shoot anyone,” Raspy-voice Guy said.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Tree said. “And you know what? I honestly don’t know for sure. But it’s probably the wrong time to test me.”

  Raspy-voice Guy said, “You’re going to be in a world of trouble, friend.”

  “I’m not your friend,” Tree said.

  “Not after tonight, you’re not,” Raspy-voice Guy said.

  Tree continued to back slowly away along the dock, keeping his gun arm outstretched. The sound of a car horn broke the silence. Tree reached the end of the dock, turned and ran up past the clubhouse to where Freddie waited with the Hellcat’s motor running, headlights shining through the night. Freddie had already opened the passenger door so he could hop in.

  “Drive,” he said, slamming the door.

  Freddie stepped on the gas. She screamed in alarm as the Hellcat practically went into orbit, fishtailing violently around. Freddie, fighting with the wheel, lifted her foot off the gas pedal, allowing the Hellcat to right itself. She reapplied gas and the car shot forward with a screech of burning rubber. “Good grief,” she said as they roared out the driveway. “What’s under th
e hood?”

  “Seven hundred bucking, kicking horses,” Tree said. “A man’s car.”

  “It’s at times like this that I’m glad I’m a woman,” Freddie said.

  From the backseat, Clinton uttered a whimper. Tree reached back to pet him. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said softly. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “Tree,” Freddie said, “it’s the middle of the night, you’ve got a gun in your hand, and we’re running away from guys wearing funny skeleton masks. How can anything be all right?”

  Tree had no answer.

  33

  The desk clerk at the Comfort Inn off I-75 didn’t bat an eyelash when Freddie and Tree told him they had no luggage. In the not-too-distant past, Tree with no luggage in the company of a beautiful woman trying to check into a hotel, his heart would have been in his mouth. In this new and wondrous century, he simply handed the desk clerk a credit card. A credit card even made a dog at three o’clock in the morning welcome.

  “Those were Johnny Bravo’s people, weren’t they?” Freddie said when they were in the room.

  “Our old pals,” Tree said.

  Freddie said, “I don’t know what they were trying to prove with those masks.”

  “They were trying to fool us,” Tree said.

  “Well, they didn’t succeed.”

  Clinton had already commandeered the center of the huge bed, resting on his haunches, large eyes shifting back and forth between Freddie and Tree, wondering why they were not coming to bed at this late hour. The dog, Tree was beginning to think, was a whole lot smarter than they were.

  “And what about that gun? How did you get your hands on a gun?”

  “It belongs to Rex.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I left it in the glove compartment,” Tree said.

  “Good, because I don’t like you with a gun. Guns make me very nervous.”

  “They make me nervous, too. But I have to admit we would have been in a lot of trouble tonight without it.”

  “What’s Rex doing with a gun? What’s he need it for?”

  “He’s trying to assimilate into South Florida life. He bought a boat. Maybe he thought he needed a gun, too.”