"Hard to believe you got, um ... had a son ... "
"Shut up. I don't need you to talk to me right now." She dragged him into the bedroom.
After a few frenzied minutes, she left him to recuperate and went to the dresser. Using her hand mirror and a single-edged razor blade, she cut a short line of coke and snorted it. She put both hands on the dresser and leaned against it, waiting for the rush to subside. After a moment, she recovered enough to sense that he was admiring her backside. Shooting a hip, she flipped her wavy dark hair to the side and twisted to look at him over her shoulder.
When she caught his eye, she said, "You start to say somethin' about Juju?"
"When? What are you talkin' about?" Franco asked. Seeing her leaning over against the dresser had pushed all thoughts but one from his mind. He patted the bed next to him with one hand and motioned for her to join him with the other.
She turned, taking her time to give him a show. "When you first got here. You started to say, 'Hard to believe you had a son ... ' but I didn't let you finish."
Franco decided this wasn't the time to tell her — not when she was coked-up and he was ... well, he thought he should wait. "You got the body of a 20-year-old. I was gonna say it's hard to believe you got a son almost that old."
"That's sweet, Franco. Even if I was only 15 when Juju was born." She sat on the edge of the bed and rolled on top of him.
Chapter 15
Franco awakened to the persistent ringing of his cellphone. It took him a minute to remember that he was at home in his own bed. He had been dreaming about Lola. He fumbled in the dark until he found the phone on his bedside table and pressed the connect icon. Still groggy, he muttered, "Yeah?"
"Mr. Andretti?"
"Yeah. Hello, Carmen," he said, recognizing her voice. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table, noticing as he did that Juju's mother was no longer in his bed. Or maybe she hadn't come back to his place after they closed the club that she managed for him. He couldn't remember. "Jesus! It's four fuckin' thirty in the morning. The hell are you doin' up this time of day?"
"Sorry if I woke you. I don't pay much attention to clocks. I thought it was close to bedtime, but I wanted you to know right away before I went to sleep."
"You got somethin' for me, then?"
"Yeah. Those queries I was running? I told you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, fighting his impatience, knowing that she moved at her own speed.
"Well, I discovered that satellite phone number's on a website for a charter yacht."
"That's great. You got a name, or registration?"
"Yeah. Um, I got the name. I didn't think about the registration. I'll get right on that and call you — "
"Wait! Don't go."
"It won't take long. I know a place — "
"Gimme what you got, first, okay? Then you can call me back with the rest."
"Okay. So, anyhow, this yacht? It's a beautiful sailboat. Big, too, and one of the women is a gourmet chef."
"One of the women?" he prompted.
"Yeah. Two women run it. They look pretty young, too, in the pictures. I wondered — "
"You said you got a name?"
"Yeah. Dani Berger — "
"For the boat, Carmen. Gimme that first."
"Oh. Yeah. It's called Vengeance."
"And Dani Berger? She's one of the women?"
"Right. Dani Berger and Liz Chirac."
"She's the one on the phone bill, right?"
"Right. And Elaine Moore — the other name on the bill — she's the charter broker. That's how the — "
"So did it say where they were?"
"The yacht?" Carmen asked.
"Yeah," Franco said, rolling his eyes.
"It just said available for charter, U.S. East Coast and the Caribbean. Other locations by arrangement."
"Shit," he muttered. "Okay. Anything else?"
"Well, I'm really curious," Carmen said. "They look to be about my age."
"The women?"
"Yeah. How'd they get the money for that yacht? I checked. A Herreshoff Bounty replica like that's worth around a million bucks. I wouldn't mind doing — "
"Hey, Carmen?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you see how much information you can dig up on those two women? Like get some credit card numbers or somethin' and track down where the hell they are?"
"Sure. I can do that."
"How about that phone?"
"Which phone?"
"The satellite phone. Can't you get a location for it?"
"Oh. No, I thought about that. Best I can do is the satellite footprint."
"The what?"
"That's the part of the earth's surface that's in the cone of — "
"Never mind. You got a picture of the boat you can send me?"
"Yeah, sure. Right away."
"And the two women?"
"Yeah, no problem."
"Great, Carmen. You got ten grand comin' over and above your billing. Find where they are, and I'll make it fifty."
"Okay, Mr. Andretti. I'll be back in touch with that registration. I need to take a break and get some dinner right now, though."
"Yeah, Carmen. You do that." Franco shook his head as he disconnected the call.
****
Joe Bones sat on the couch in the living room of the villa in St. Thomas. He had his bad knee propped up on the coffee table again. Willy and Fats were in the room that Don Guido used as an office; they were working the phones. They had circulated photographs of Angela in a desperate effort to find any trail that they could follow.
Joe Bones was semiconscious, thanks to his pain medication. He was watching the images flicker across the wide-screen television, but his mind was elsewhere. He had muted the sound from the television, but when the ringing started, he pressed the mute button on the remote in his right hand.
Confused when the ringing persisted, he realized after several seconds that it was his cellphone. He fumbled it from his pocket and looked at the screen just in time to see it flash "1 missed call." Worried that it had been Guido, he touched the screen until he found the list of missed calls. The most recent one showed "unknown caller." He sighed with relief and started to return the phone to his pocket when it rang again. "Unknown caller," he mumbled, looking at the screen as he pressed the connect icon.
"Yeah," he barked.
"Giuseppe?"
The voice was familiar, but out of context. He couldn't place its owner.
"Who is this?" he asked, in a gruff voice.
"This is Franco Andretti. I'm trying to reach Giuseppe Bruni."
"Yeah. What do you want?" Joe Bones was annoyed now. Andretti ran the local stuff in Miami; he had no business calling the next capo di tutti capi.
"Is this Giuseppe?"
"Yeah, damn it. The fuck are you callin' me for, Andretti?"
"I got some information for you. Guido said if I couldn't get Willy or Fats I should call you."
Even through the drugs, that alarmed Joe Bones. What the fuck was Don Guido doing, cutting him out of the loop?
"Don Guido should have called me direct. Cut the bullshit and give me what you got."
"He said you was kinda under the weather; he thought you might be doped up," Franco said.
"I'll deal with you later, Andretti. You need to show a little respect. I'm gonna ask again, then I'll call Guido myself."
"Sorry, boss," Andretti said, in a tone that indicated the opposite. "I forgot my place. Don Guido said tell you from now on to call me; he's too busy. Just until you find Angela, I think. We got a name for the boat that she's on. Pictures, too. The boat and the women who run it. I emailed all that shit to Fats, but you need to make sure he gets on it right away. I gotta run, Giuseppe. Got some shit to take care of for Guido. Get well soon." He hung up without waiting for a reply.
Joe Bones was stunned; the message was clear. Don Guido wasn't happy with him. He needed a big win, and fast, or he was going to be in tro
uble.
"Willy! Fats!" he roared. "Get your asses in here, NOW!"
****
Dani joined Liz and Angela in the cockpit. She had just completed her routine morning checks to make sure everything aboard Vengeance was as it should be. They had enjoyed a brisk five-hour sail from Antigua yesterday afternoon. Late in the day, they had anchored here in Deshaies, on the northwest corner of the island of Guadeloupe. The sound of church bells calling the faithful to an early Mass had awakened them this morning. Dawdling over coffee in the cockpit, they watched the quaint little town come to life.
"It's breathtaking," Angela said. "I don't know that I've ever seen a prettier place. I thought nothing could top the view at sunset last night when all the buildings looked like gold, but this is just as pretty. The whole town could be a movie set."
"More than one movie's been shot here," Liz said. "Recently, there's been a TV series that was supposedly set on the island of Sainte-Marie, Guadeloupe. There's no such island, although there is one called Marie Galante that more or less matches the description. Most of the filming took place right here in Deshaies, though."
"I can see why," Angela said. "What are the chances of a quick trip ashore?"
''Pretty good," Dani said. "I need to clear in with French customs; that happens at an Internet café in town. Right across the street, there's a boulangerie-pâtisserie with a wood-burning oven. I haven't seen Liz pass it up yet."
"Yum," Angela said. "Sounds like we should definitely have some pastries for breakfast. Do we have time?"
"Sure," Liz said. "We're an easy sail from Îles des Saintes, or even Dominica. What are you thinking, Dani?"
"Îles des Saintes," Dani said. "Let's stay in France."
"I thought you might want to stop and see Sharktooth," Liz said.
"He's not there; he was in Miami on some kind of business when I spoke with Mario yesterday."
"Sharktooth? That's as bad as 'Joe Bones.' What kind of name is that?" Angela asked.
"He's a friend," Liz said. "You'll probably meet him. He's got the jaws of a big shark mounted on the bow of his boat; so that's what everybody calls him."
"Anyway," Dani said, "with him not there, I figured we might just as well stay in French waters. Mario will fill him in, and he was sure Sharktooth would call when he got through with whatever he's doing."
"So how do you know this guy?" Angela said. "Forgive my being nosy, but I'm taken with his name."
"Wait until you see him," Liz said, a grin on her face. "He's a memorable character."
"He's a partner of my father's," Dani said.
"I'm picturing some guy with an eye patch and a cutlass," Angela said.
"You're not far off. He's a giant, and he's the only man I've ever seen with dreadlocks to his waist and a bald spot on top," Liz said.
"It's late enough to go ashore, ladies," Dani said. "Everything should be open by the time we get there. You can show Angela around while I handle the paperwork, and then we'll have breakfast. Maybe Luke will call while we're there."
"You said he's a homicide detective in Miami?" Angela said.
"Right. He was the partner of a friend of ours named Paul Russo. Paul's about to marry another good friend of ours. The two of them are running charters now, and they just bought a boat that's a sister-ship of Vengeance. Paul used to be the head of homicide at the Miami police department. Luke Pantene took his place when he retired."
"But why homicide?" Angela asked. "You don't think ... "
Liz, reacting to Angela's troubled look, said, "Don't get hung up on his job. He's just somebody we know. There's no reason to think ... "
The chiming of the satellite phone interrupted her. She looked at the screen and passed it to Dani. "It's Luke," she said.
****
"What's the matter?" Willy asked as he rushed into the living room in response to Joe Bones's shout.
"Where's Fats?" Joe Bones asked.
"On the phone. He's talkin' to — "
"I'm right here. What's up?" Fats asked, joining them.
"Check your email," Joe Bones said. "You should have some details on the yacht that Angela chartered."
Fats took out his smartphone and fiddled with it. "Yeah. Here we go. Vengeance. Fifty-seven-foot sailboat. Danielle Berger's the captain, and Liesbet Chirac's the mate. We got pictures of the women and the boat. Says more info will follow."
"Who sent that?" Joe Bones asked.
Fats looked at the screen again. "Carmen Madrid."
"Who the hell's she? Can we trust her to know what the fuck she's talkin' about?"
"She's a computer geek that Andretti uses to hack into stuff over the Internet," Willy said. "She's pretty damn good. Never knew her to mess up. Why? You know somethin' about the boat? Or them women?"
"No. Just that the last I heard, Angela was headed for Brazil."
"We better try to find the boat," Fats said. "That's what Don Guido wanted. He don't think she's in Brazil."
"You talked to him?"
"Yeah. A while ago," Fats said. He watched as Joe Bones squirmed on the sofa, his face turning red.
"You okay?" Fats asked. "You look upset."
"No, I'm okay. What did Don Guido have to say?"
Fats told him about Juju.
"Jesus," Joe Bones said, shaking his head. "I can see why he doesn't think Angela did that."
"Yeah," Fats said. "Come on, Willy. You and me got a boat to find."
****
"What did he say?" Angela asked, lines of tension on her face, her voice cracking.
"So far, they've managed to determine that John arrived in Miami on schedule the other night. He didn't board the flight to Antigua, though," Dani said.
Angela shook her head, her face going pale. "But ... "
"He's checking to see who the airline had working the flight. He wants to interview any employees who would have been around when John got off the plane. He figures he won't get all that put together before this evening sometime. He already found out the same people who were on duty then will be working tonight, so he's planning to interview them then. I sent him John's picture."
"So there's nothing we can do but wait?" Angela asked.
"Well, he's got people checking hotels and hospitals; he's treating it as a missing person case. So far, they haven't found anything. He's also following up with John's office, but that's a formality. This is what he does, Angela; he's good at it, and he's a friend of my godfather's, too, for what that's worth."
"I just feel so helpless; I don't mean to seem ungrateful," Angela said.
"I understand. It'll be all right, somehow," Dani said. "Let's put the dinghy together and go ashore like we planned. Bring your camera, if you've got one; the town's worth some pictures."
Chapter 16
"I wanna move faster, Franco," Guido said. "That computer-geek girl called early this morning, and you ain't heard from her since, right?"
Franco sat in a dim corner of one of his clubs, his cellphone held to his right ear. He covered his left ear to block out the disco music. He was watching a bored-looking pole dancer as she gyrated when Guido called. It was early afternoon, and there were few patrons to appreciate her minimal efforts. "That's right. Well, she did call back with the registration, but — "
"Yeah, you told me earlier. I been thinkin'," Guido interrupted. "With that, we got enough to put a private investigator to work, right?"
"Sure, Don Guido. I was just waitin' until she got the credit card data on them women to — "
"Yeah, sure. That's good. Maybe she'll find 'em for us. I wanna know more about them, though. Stuff we can use for leverage if we need it. Families, who they know, where they hang out when they ain't on the boat, shit like that. You got somebody can do that?"
"Yeah, sure. That's a good idea; save us some time later, maybe. I'll get right on it."
The music paused as a new dancer took the stage. The bored girl who had finished her set strutted across the club in her five-inch heels. S
he plopped herself in the lap of the customer who appeared to be most alert. Franco pegged him for an out-of-town sales rep on an extended lunch break. His cheap suit and bulging briefcase gave him away. He grinned at the naked girl as she wriggled against him, pretending to make herself comfortable.
Franco watched her work the half-drunk guy as he thought for a minute. Making a decision, he scrolled through the directory screen on his phone. The boat was registered to a Delaware corporation; using a local P.I. here in Miami would just delay the search. He made a call to New Jersey and listened to the recording, leaving his name and number as requested.
Less than a minute later, the callback came.
"Yeah," he said.
"Franco?"
"Yeah."
"Sol Eisenstadt here. Sorry I didn't get to the phone in time. I was in the back. How can I help you?"
Franco rattled off the details that he had gotten from Carmen. "I want to know everything there is to know about those two women. Don't waste time on credit card shit or financial records from the Internet. I got somebody on that. I want personal shit. Parents, children, sexual preferences. I may need to put the squeeze on them. You follow me?"
"Yeah. Sure. I take it you're in a hurry; you okay with premium rates? I'm kind of booked up, but I can pass off the other stuff to somebody and handle this myself. It'll cost extra, though."
"Screw the cost. Get me the information and you can name your price."
"I'm on it, Franco. Always a pleasure to hear from you."
"Yeah," Franco said, disconnecting. He nodded his approval at the girl as she passed with the salesman in tow, headed to the private booths in back. As they slipped behind the curtain, the waitress on duty picked up the man's forgotten briefcase. Glancing around to make sure he wasn't in sight, she took it into the ladies' room. Franco made a note to have a talk with her when she came out; he ran high-class joints. Petty theft from customers was bad for business. If the broad needed more money, she could always take her clothes off and dance.
****
Franco had just finished firing the waitress when his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen and saw that it was Carmen. He let the call go to voicemail and waved the club's manager over.
Bluewater Rendezvous: The Eighth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 8) Page 10