Running Under Sail
A Connie Barrera Thriller
By Charles L. R. Dougherty
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Copyright © 2016 Charles L.R. Dougherty
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Windward and Leeward Islands
Guadeloupe to Martinique
Antigua
Prologue
"What did he say?" Connie asked. She was steering Diamantista II; Paul had been below, talking on the satellite phone with his lawyer.
"She's just making trouble, he thinks."
"What do you think?" Connie asked. "You know her better than he does, right?"
He shook his head, a wry grin on his face. "I can't say that I know her at all."
"You were married to her for five years, Paul. How does her mind work?"
He laughed, a hearty, deep-down belly laugh. "That's a trick question if I ever heard one," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Asking me if I know how a woman's mind works. I'll take the fifth on that one."
Connie frowned. "But anyway, what did he say?"
"He talked to her lawyer. All he got was that she claims I concealed assets when we were getting the divorce."
"Did you?"
"No, of course not. But she's picked up on my participation in the purchase of Diamantista II – million-dollar luxury yacht, and all that, according to her lawyer. She smells money."
"How'd she find out any of that?"
"Who knows?" Paul asked. "Probably saw some of the publicity Elaine arranged for the charter business and hired someone to check it out, looking for a way to squeeze some money out of me. She's tried before."
"I thought she married some rich guy after you two split up. Why would she care about Diamantista II?"
"She thought she was marrying a rich guy; that's the story she put out. But you know South Beach. They all look like they're rich; nothing's real. Turned out he'd been sponging off his boyfriend. Paralegal. Worked in her lawyer's office and knew about the cash settlement she got. They were scam artists; they'd done this before."
"Him or the boyfriend," Connie asked.
"What?"
"Which one was the paralegal?"
"Oh. Sorry. The boyfriend was the paralegal. Her new husband was some kind of wannabe actor. He'd been busted for fraud, but the charges didn't stick."
"You knew that? At the time?"
"Yeah. I heard. In-house stuff; the fraud guys had checked them both out, but it didn't go anywhere. They were small time, but they were smart. Victim was too embarrassed to testify."
"Didn't you tell her? I thought you said it was an amicable divorce. I'm — "
"It was, as divorces go, I guess. I mean, we both wanted it. Beyond that, though ... "
"Sorry. I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."
"No, that's okay. There was a fight about the property settlement. She wanted everything; there was a lot of hostility. When I heard she was getting married afterward, I mentioned it to Luke, and he recognized the guy's name from when he was working fraud. I asked him to let her know."
"You made your partner do the dirty work, huh?"
"Hey, that's what partners are for. I knew she wouldn't listen to me. I thought Luke might have more credibility with her."
"Guess not, huh?"
"Good guess. She gave him a ration of shit and told him to tell me to mind my own business."
"I see. So she married this con man?"
"Yes. It lasted until her money ran out, and then he let her find him with his lover boy in their bedroom."
"Didn't she have any recourse? I mean — "
"I don't know, Connie. She told Luke to tell me to mind my own business. I took her advice. I know she didn't go to the police; I don't know any more about it."
"How much did they take her for?"
"I'm not sure; her share when we split was around $200,000 in cash. I bought out her equity in the condo and we split up the investment accounts. Sounds like a lot, but that's because I sweetened it to keep her out of my pension."
"How long did it last? Her marriage?"
"About a year, give or take."
"What happens next?"
"Larry's going to sit down with the accountant and go through my financial records. He says it's a nuisance suit, figures he'll get it dismissed. Meanwhile, he's going to file a counterclaim for costs, or something like that."
"Are you worried about it?" Connie asked.
"Mostly aggravated, but yes. Sure, I am; it's a pain."
"Do you want to just pay her off and be done with it?"
"No. That's nuts, and besides, who knows where that might lead. We don't need anybody poking their noses in your finances."
"I'm bullet-proof; there's no paper trail on any of my stuff, except the brokerage accounts we share, and those are clean. I don't mean to meddle, but we can afford it if you just want to write her a check and be done with it. That's all I'm going to say about it."
"Thanks," Paul said, his voice soft as he put his hands on Connie's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I love you, and I really appreciate your support. It'll be okay, though. Tell me about this Sadie Storm woman."
"Elaine says she's a singer of some kind; 23 years old, single. Paid for a month's charter with a wire transfer."
"Fifty thou?" Paul said, whistling. "Must be some kind of singer. When I was 23, I didn't have 50 bucks to spare, let alone $50,000."
Connie smiled. "Tell me about it. Anyway, that's about all I know. We're picking her up at the marina in the lagoon tomorrow after lunch."
"No idea where she wants to go from St. Martin?" Paul asked.
Connie shook her head. "No, but she wants to leave right away. You checked our position after dinner?"
Paul nodded.
"What's our ETA?"
"We should be in Simpson Bay in time for the 9:30 bridge into the lagoon with no problem, especially if this wind holds. Why?"
"Just thinking. This is our first charter since we got married."
"So?" Paul asked, frowning.
"So this is our last night alone for a month."
"Yes," Paul agreed. "I'll miss you."
"Put the autopilot on and show me how much," Connie said, snuggling up against him.
Chapter 1
"How long have you and Paul been together?"
Connie thought for a moment before she answered, checking the sail trim and casting a glance at the surrounding horizon, looking for ship traffic. At their guest's request, they had left St. Martin as soon as she boarded, with barely enough time to make the last drawbridge out of the lagoon. Satisfied with their position relative to the nighttime traffic, she said, "A couple of years now, but it seems like I've always known him."
"That's cool," Sadie said. "You guys look like a good match. You just got married, right?"
"You hardly know us," Connie said, grinning and shaking her head. "What, three hours, now? How did you know we'd just gotten married? Did Elaine tell you that?"
"Who's Elaine?"
"Our charter broker; you booked us through her."
"Oh. No, my agent handled that," Sadie said. "Let's just say I've had some experience in terms of relationships."
"Uh-huh," Connie said, hiding a smile at the thought of this young girl's vast experience. "Not to pry, but is there a man in your life now?"
"Yeah, kinda," the girl looked away, and Connie let the silence hang. Her new charter guest seemed lost in thought.
There was a flash in the shadows, and Sadie screamed, slapping at the air as she jumped up to stand in the cockpit foot well.
"It's okay," Connie said. The pungent odor and the buzzing sound told her what had happened. "You're okay; it's just a — "
"Something hit me!"
"Flying fish," Connie said.
"No shit? There is such a thing? It must have been big. Do they sting, or anything?"
"What happened?" Paul interrupted, appearing in the companionway opening.
"Sadie just came face to face with a flying fish," Connie said.
"What's that smell?" Sadie asked.
"That's the way they smell," Paul said.
"Eek!" Sadie squawked, jumping up onto the cockpit seat, one hand on the coachroof. "It's down there." She peered into the darkness of the foot well. "I felt it on my leg."
Paul stepped out, flashlight in hand. "See? It's just a fish." He shined the light down into the foot well where the eight-inch long fish thrashed, its long, gossamer pectoral fins shimmering in the light.
"They really fly?" Sadie asked.
"Well, it's more like gliding," Paul said, "but yes. Usually when big fish are chasing them."
"You just got in the way of his escape," Connie said. "You're not a real sailor until you get slapped in the face by a flying fish on a night watch. Wakes you right up, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, it sure does. Now what? Do they bite or anything?"
Paul chuckled. "I don't think so. But it does smart when they smack into your cheek, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. So can you catch it? Or will it fly away?"
Paul scooped up the oily little fish and held it in the beam of his flashlight for Sadie's scrutiny. Its pectoral fins were flexing like wings. "They can't really fly, like a bird, or anything. They just get a running start and jump out of the water, flapping their pectoral fins. They can cover a pretty good distance, though, especially if they happen to be heading into the wind at the right angle."
"Are you going to throw it back?" Sadie asked.
"Nope. I'll filet it and stick it in the freezer. We've got a mess of them; I'll fry 'em up for breakfast, instead of bacon."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No way! I'm going to stick this little rascal down in the galley sink and do a round of the deck. I'll probably find a few of his friends; they're always in schools, never alone."
"Sounds like the fans at my concerts," Sadie said, as Paul stepped back below.
"Your concerts?" Connie asked.
"You really don't know who I am, do you?"
"Just that you're a singer. Elaine told me that. But we're kind of out of touch with popular culture, Paul and I."
"I think I like that. Okay if we just leave it that way?"
"We're here to cater to your wishes; this is your holiday."
"Yeah. That's definitely cool," Sadie said. "I'm gonna like this, a lot. Even if Paul makes me eat flying fish." She grinned in the moonlight.
"You'll like the flying fish. If not, just let Paul know what you want instead."
****
He knew she was gone as soon as he walked in the door of his penthouse. It didn't feel right. It was too quiet; something was off. He stood for a minute, getting the vibe, eyes closed, senses open. She wasn't there, hadn't been there for a while, either. He could tell. Bitch. He'd known she was going to try to leave him. He'd felt it from the beginning. She might not be a druggie, but she was a user of a different kind, always looking for how she could take advantage of people. She wasn't the kind of woman that stayed with one man, no matter what the words of her stupid songs said. Not a man like him, anyway.
He grinned. He wasn't sorry. It could come out in the open, now. Once he caught up with her, he wouldn't have to pretend any more. He could just kick her ass; knock some sense into the silly bitch. Singer. He chuckled. Goddamn singer; she'd be nowhere except for him and his contacts. She didn't like the way he acted anymore; didn't approve of his clothes, his drugs, him in general.
He was good enough when she didn't have a pot to piss in, nowhere to sleep. But now that she was headlining in the bigtime nightclubs, had a recording contract, she didn't think she needed him anymore. He'd show her ass. Damn right he would. She might think he was just another player in South Beach with a few grimy strip clubs. Wait until she tried to get a gig without his help. Then she'd find out.
The most important thing right now was whether she'd cut and run with his stash, though. Bitch didn't smoke, but she might've taken it just to spite him. It wouldn't surprise him. He'd fuckin' kill her if she took it. He stopped and took a deep breath, tried to stop the blood rushing in his head. He could feel it, like he was gonna explode. Right now, he needed to chill out, do some serious thinkin'.
He went into the bedroom and slid the closet doors open. Yep. She was gone, all right. Every damn stitch of her clothes, gone. Clothes he'd bought her, the ungrateful little shit. Her two suitcases, gone. He grabbed the edge of the closet shelf with his left hand, stretching up with his right, feeling around. There it was. He dragged the sheet of old newspaper toward the front edge, careful not to let the prize slip off. Didn't want to have to climb up there to get his shit.
With the newspaper at the edge, he reached back and found the baggie. Picking it up, he took it and sat down on the edge of the bed, zipping the baggie open with his thumbnail and selecting a blunt. He lit it up and took a long hit, turning to lean against the headboard, staring out the glass wall at Biscayne Bay. While he mellowed out, he considered how to go about finding her.
Bitch. He'd start with that freak that was supposed to be her agent; that's what he'd do. Track her down by following the money, and kick her ass good when he caught up with her. Maybe teach that damned lesbo agent what she was missin', while he was at it. He grinned at that, feeling better already. Yeah.
Chapter 2
"Not to put any pressure on you, but have you thought about where you want to go?" Connie asked. She and Sadie were drinking herbal tea in the cockpit. Diamantista II surged along, close-hauled in a steady 15-knot northeast wind. Paul was below, asleep. He and Connie had sailed for twenty-four hours straight to get to St. Martin this morning, maintaining their usual four-hour watch rotation. Unless Sadie told them otherwise, they had decided to assume tonight's trip was another overnight passage.
"Not really," Sadie said. "I don't know much about the Caribbean."
"How did you come to charter down here, then?"
"Leana suggested it. I just wanted to get out of Miami and lose myself."
"And who's Leana?"
"Sorry. She's my agent, and my best friend. About my only friend, actually."
"I see," Connie said. "I guess it's good to be on friendly terms with your agent. I don't know much about the music business, but it seems to me that she's somebody who could make or break your career."
"Definitely," Sadie said.
"So she suggested a Caribbean charter. Did she pick St. Martin?"
"Yeah. Because of the easy airline connections."
"That makes sense," Connie said. "Has she been down here before?"
"Yeah, to St. Barth. It's popular with a lot of her clients, I guess."
"There're always lots of megayachts there," Connie said. "It's popular with the very rich, and those who want to be around them."
"Is it far?"
"Not at all. You see those lights right over there?" Connie pointed at the cluster of lights off their port bow. "That's St. Barth. Want to stop there?"
"No!" Sadie said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap; it's just that it reminds me of a bad experience."
"Oh," Connie said. "Well, you don't need to decide on a destination right away. We're having a great ride. Unless you want to go to St. Kitts and Nevis or Statia, this is a good course. We'll be off Antigua by early morning, and from there, it's all easy sailing to the other isl
ands. We might as well take advantage of the northeast wind while it lasts."
"Okay," Sadie said, transfixed by the lights of St. Barth.
They sailed along in silence for several minutes, Sadie continuing to gaze into space, Connie enjoying the glorious sail. Diamantista II sliced through the chop, rising and falling in a soothing rhythm as she crested the long period swell under the wind waves. She was making a steady nine to nine and a half knots, spray flying when the bow cleaved the three-foot waves that topped the six-foot swell.
"I was there not long ago," Sadie said.
"There?"
"St. Barth."
"Oh, but — "
"I know," Sadie interrupted with an uncomfortable giggle. "I told you I didn't know much about the Caribbean. I didn't know where it was."
"St. Barth?" Connie frowned, perplexed.
"Yeah. I didn't realize it was in the Caribbean; I just thought it was part of Florida, like the Bahamas." She broke into laughter at the look on Connie's face. "I mean, I know the Bahamas are a separate country, but the way they talk about them just kind of ... " she shook her head.
"They?" Connie asked.
"Um, the people I was, er, with?" Sadie cocked her head to the side.
Connie smiled and nodded. Sadie looked embarrassed.
"I sound like a total ditz, don't I?" Sadie shook her head.
"Don't worry about it. You're in good company. Most Americans don't have a clue about the geography of this part of the world."
"Thanks, Connie. But I'm not normally that way. I'm just kind of off the rails, I guess. Everything happened so fast, I haven't ... that's why I needed this break."
"I understand. I've had some rocky periods myself. This is a good part of the world if you need a place to regroup. People aren't judgmental down here in the islands."
Sadie smiled and nodded. "You're very kind."
"Just relax and enjoy the beautiful night. Put your head back and look straight up for a few minutes."
"Wow," Sadie sighed. After a while, she said, "That's why they call it the Milky Way, huh? I never got it before."
Running Under Sail - a Connie Barrera Thriller (Connie Barrera Thrillers Book 5) Page 1