A Younger Woman

by Wendy Rosnau

  “Then tell me.”

  “It’s about this house. It’s really not mine.”

  “What do you mean? You said you bought it.”

  “I did, but the deed is in your name. It’s really your house.”

  His confession rendered Margo speechless. Then the tears came.

  “Oh, baby, don’t cry.”

  “I can cry if I want to,” Margo sniffed unable to stop. She struggled to sit up. “What am I going to do with you? You can’t love someone that much. You didn’t even know if we would ever talk to each other again, let alone—”

  “Shhh.” He rolled onto his back and tugged her on top of him.

  Margo squirmed until she was straddling him. “I suppose you want to hear my confession now.”

  “Do you have one?”

  “The truth is, I have a scrapbook. I started it before you ever kissed me. Actually, I think I bought it the week we first met. I thought you were so sexy and cute. Every time I saw your name in the newspaper, I cut it out and pasted it in my scrapbook.”

  She watched him as her words registered.

  “Are you telling me—”

  “Yes. I’m saying I wanted you in the beginning. I was fifteen and—”

  He didn’t allow her to finish. He rolled quickly and placed her beneath him. He kissed her long and hard. Kissed her until they were both panting, both burning. Then he was inside her, silently promising her forever.

  Ry stood on the veranda and listened to Jackson recap the past four hours. It was two in the morning, and Margo was asleep upstairs. They’d made love for several hours, and when she’d finally fallen asleep in his arms, he had slipped away quietly and called his partner.

  “You were right,” Jackson said, “that piece of garbage in the locker could be important.” He pulled the paper from his back pocket and handed it to Ry. “The boat is named the Dungeress. She’s older than my grandmother, but she’s still in port and in one piece. Some activist group is claiming she’s got historical value. The city’s agreed to hold off scrapping her until they can decide if she’d be worth renovating.”

  “Where’s she at?” Ry asked as he scanned the wrinkled newspaper article.

  “That’s the interesting part. She’s docked in River Bay, just west of where Blu duFray docks his Devils. And there’s something else. Less than a block away is a warehouse owned by Denoux Inc.”

  Ry’s ears perked up. “Wasn’t that where our floater worked?”

  “You got it.” Jackson yawned and eased his body into the hammock.

  Ry mulled over the information, then said, “Did you check out the company?”

  “Yeah.” Jackson folded his arms behind his head. “They look legit, but that means nothing. A big company that size could front all kinds of illegal activity.”

  “How big?”

  “That’s what took me so long. I went back to the stationhouse to get a profile. They’ve got an office in Honduras, Rio de Janeiro and Monaco. They’re an import-export that deals in everything from tobacco to tennis shoes.”

  Ry checked his watch. Margo was likely to sleep the entire night. If he had luck on his side, he’d be back before morning, and she wouldn’t even know he’d stepped out. “Margo will probably sleep through the night.”

  “Sure about that, are you?”

  Jackson’s light tone had Ry looking up to see his partner grinning. “What does that mean?”

  Jackson wiggled himself into a more comfortable position and crossed his jeans-clad legs. Yawned. “You look like a man who’s just had the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders. You’re not digging in your pockets for a smoke, or pacing. Some would call them nasty habits. Me, I always saw them as acquired obsessions to counter another.” He paused, his grin holding. “Is Margo duFray your obsession, partner?”

  Ry gazed at the swing in the backyard. “For about five years,” he admitted.

  “That would have made her…”

  “Too damn young for me to be looking. Yeah, I know. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that I did anything about it.” Ry turned and leaned against the iron rail. “I love her, Jackson, but it’s a long story. Tonight, what I need from you is what I’ve been getting the past couple of days. I want you to keep Margo safe while I check out the Dungeress. I’ll be back as quickly as I can, hopefully with some answers.”

  Ry drove past DuBay Pier and parked his Blazer two blocks away from River Bay. As he walked toward the waterfront he spotted the Dungeress. She was an old relic, her twin outriggers half-gone, the stabilizers shot. She looked ravaged by time and weather, but she still had her nets hanging. She was big for a trawler, at least eighty feet long, and made of solid wood. Ry had no idea if the boat had historic value, but right now he didn’t care as long as it led him to Mickey’s killer.

  The night was balmy, the water calm, the sky dotted with a million and one stars. Quietly he boarded the shrimper, pulling his gun from his holster as he crept around the wheelhouse. Slowly he opened the door to the hold. The steps creaked and groaned as he took them one at a time. Halfway down the stairs, Ry sensed he wasn’t alone.

  “It took you long enough.”

  He recognized the voice, but it lacked the built-in arrogance Blu duFray had been born with.

  Ry took another step, then another, until the stairs ran out and he was standing in total darkness in the bowels of the Dungeress. Suddenly a light snapped on in a far corner. The bright light made Ry squint, but he could still make out Blu sprawled on the floor, his back braced against the wall. He looked like hell his face dirty and his shaggy, black hair matted.

  He moved closer, and when he saw Margo’s brother’s leg, he said, “Holy hell, Blu. You should be in the hospital.”

  “Oui. I should be. I’ll get there eventually. That is, if you’re as good a detective as the city seems to think you are.”

  “The clue you left in the locker wasn’t much to go on, and your sister’s damn stubborn when she’s protecting Saint Blu.”

  The comment brought a smile to Blu’s face. “Then she’s all right?”

  “She’s fine. Worried about you, but doing okay.”

  It looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off Blu’s shoulders. Ry was aware of it, but this time he felt no jealousy. He would never understand this fierce sibling connection Margo and Blu shared, but he was ready to accept it.

  He knelt down to examine Blu’s leg. The infection was raging. It had to hurt like hell. Blu needed a doctor as soon as possible.

  “Did you bring the cavalry?” Blu asked.

  “No. I wasn’t sure what I’d find. I’m alone. Come on, Blu, lets get you out of this place.”

  Blu reached out and gripped Ry’s arm. “No, not until we’ve talked.”

  Ry heard a noise from behind him, and as he turned, Blu shone the light into the opposite corner. Goddard Reese sat on the floor, his arms bound with a rope that had been skillfully looped around his ankles to keep him hobbled. He was also gagged.

  “Is he yours?” Blu asked.

  “Yeah, he’s mine.”

  “That’s what he said, but I couldn’t be sure, so Mort tied him up.”

  “Mort?” Ry heard another noise and Blu sent the flashlight around the room to another corner, and there, huddled together, were a half dozen wide-eyed dirty kids. “The oldest, she’s seventeen,” Blu said, shining the spotlight on a young girl who kept her head lowered. Beside her a small girl lay curled up with her head in the older girl’s lap. “She’s the youngest, maybe eight.”

  A moment later the sound of footsteps on the creaky stairs sent Ry after his gun.

  “That would be Mort,” Blu said. “He’s my watchdog.” He moved the light toward the stairs, and sure enough another ragged-looking kid, this one maybe sixteen, came into focus.

  “You all right?” Mort asked Blu. “He looked like the man you described, that’s why I let him pass.”

  “You did good, Mort. He’s the one.”

 
Noise in the other corner reminded Ry that Goddard was still tied up. He stood, took the flashlight from Blu and went to release the older man. Once he’d stripped the gag and freed Goddard’s arms and legs, the old man said, “that one,” he pointed to Mort, “he hit me over the head and tied me up.” The older man rubbed an area at the back of his head. “That was yesterday morning. Where the hell you been, Superman? This place ain’t fit for pigs.”

  Grinning, Ry stuffed the butt of the flashlight in his back pocket, then pulled a fifty out of his wallet and stuffed it in Goddard’s shirt pocket. “I told you you’d get a bonus if you found Blu. There it is.” He helped the older man up. “Now go on. I’ll look you up in a few days.”

  “Make it a week. It’s gonna take me that long to get rid of this headache.”

  As God shuffled toward the stairs, he said, “What you gonna do with the merchandise? Blu says these kids are it.”

  It was what Ry suspected the minute he saw the children. The thought sickened him, and he said loud enough so they could hear. “They’re going back to their families as soon as we can figure out who they are and where they belong. Go on, old man. I got work to do.” Once Goddard was gone, Ry turned his attention on Mort. “Come and hold this light.”

  While Mort did as he was told, Ry went around and checked the children. For the most part, they were unharmed. They were dirty and scared as hell, but Blu had done his best to keep them fed—there was food wrappers on the floor.

  Ry counted six of them, four girls and two boys counting Mort. He returned to Blu. “So what’s the story?”

  “Taber Denoux is a white slave runner, that’s the story,” Blu growled. “He smuggles kids out of the country hidden in his cargo. I stumbled on the kids by accident.”

  “And how did Mickey Burelly fit in?” Ry asked.

  “He really didn’t,” Blu sighed. “I knew him from a few months back. When he arrived in town, Mickey had racked up a pile of bills. As they say, he was a little man digging with a big auger. He ended up borrowing money from Patch Pollaro, and that’s how we met. He was late on a payment and I was sent to remind him how the system worked. When I saw the kids that night, I knew what was going on. I thought about walking away, then about dumping them at the precinct. I ended up stashing them here. I wasn’t sure who the big man was running the operation and—”

  “You weren’t so sure Pollaro wasn’t involved,” Ry finished. “And if he had been?”

  “I don’t know. By the time I learned that he wasn’t, I learned who was. I thought it would be better if I just passed the kids off to Mickey Burelly. I knew him, and it fit into my plan to remain anonymous. I called him and set up a meeting. Then to make sure things didn’t fall apart, I put that newspaper article about the shrimper in the locker for insurance. I planned on mailing the key to the precinct if Mickey didn’t live up to his promise and get the kids back to their folks.”

  “You should have called me,” Ry insisted.

  “Too many people know me on the waterfront. I didn’t want the publicity. And you know as well as I do when this story breaks it’ll be big news.”

  “Afraid it’s going to make you look like one of the good guys?” Ry couldn’t hide his amusement. “If that happens, Patch Pollaro won’t have any use for your talent, right?”

  “I don’t enjoy working for Patch. I’m a fisherman, Ry, that’s what I do. Breaking a few noses and fingers along the way keeps the Devils on the water. But I won’t have to do it for much longer.”

  “If you need money so bad, why not sell the kids?” Ry taunted.

  Blu swore. “The men I deal with aren’t innocent victims, old man. I might walk a fine line, but I’m no criminal. Those kids have done nothing to be here. They don’t deserve any of this.”

  “Well, I’ll take it from here.”

  “No, you won’t,” Blu snapped. “My sister was nearly killed, and I’m carrying lead in my leg. Taber Denoux is going to pay for what he’s done. From here on out we work as a team.”

  “You need to go to the hospital, Blu.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until we get Denoux, and my kids are back where they belong.”

  Shocked to hear Blu’s claim on the kids, Ry studied Margo’s brother.

  “What?” Blu rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “What are you grinning at?”

  “You. Margo was right. She said there was a soft side to you. I never saw it, not until now. I guess maybe that’s because I was too busy not liking you before, to give you a chance.”

  “Didn’t like you much, either.” Blu’s dark eyes, a perfect match to his sister’s, opened to stare back at Ry. “So what’s the plan, old man? I want a piece of Denoux for Margo and a piece for each one of my kids.”

  “We’ll split him up,” Ry promised. “Now, let’s get you on your feet.”

  Chapter 13

  Margo woke with a start and sat up quickly. Ry was no longer beside her, she sensed it before she actually ran her hand over the cool sheets beside her. Thinking he stood at the window, she let the sheet fall and was about to slip off the bed when the man at the window spoke. “You truly are beautiful, even when you sleep.”

  Margo gasped, then snatched up the sheet and covered her naked breasts. “Who are you?”

  The stranger moved out of the shadows, and as he did, the moonlight revealed his face. “I know you,” Margo stammered. “You’re the pirate from the Toucan tonight. The man at the back door.”

  “Pirate?” An amused smile touched his thin lips. “My name is Taber Denoux.”

  Margo didn’t recognize the name. Should she? “Where’s Ry?”

  “You should have taken me up on my offer to escort you home. If you had, your friend downstairs would still be alive.”

  “No. No!”

  “It wasn’t Archard. It was the other one.”

  Margo struggled for air. “Jackson? You’ve killed Jackson. Oh, God!”

  “We can’t keep them all alive, Beautiful.” He eased down on the bed beside her, and Margo recoiled, clutching the sheet tighter. “You really are stunning, you know. Perfection is hard to find these days. Perfection and loyalty. Owning something as extraordinary as you—well, let’s just say it’s not every day a man can make his fantasy come true.”

  Margo ignored his words. “Where’s Blu?”

  “Until a few hours ago, I couldn’t have answered that. But Archard led my men to him about an hour ago.”

  “Ry knows where Blu is?”

  “So it seems. Didn’t he tell you?”

  Margo was confused. If Ry knew where Blu was, he would have told her. Wouldn’t he?

  “How do you feel about tropical beaches and margaritas?”

  “What?”

  “We’re taking a little trip, you and I. Which will it be, a warm beach or a mountain retreat?”

  “You killed Mickey Burelly.”

  “In a roundabout way I suppose that’s true. I didn’t actually pull the trigger, but…” He shrugged, smiled. “You’ve been a very elusive little bird, my dear. I’ll have to decide what form of punishment you deserve for my trouble.”

  Margo shivered beneath the sheet.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be anything that would mar your perfection.” He reached out and traced the length of Margo’s long neck with one finger. “As I said, you’re a rare beauty. But I can’t have you rebelling against me anytime you feel like it. So be warned. I can hurt you in other ways far more satisfying for me and much more degrading for you.”

  He was an animal in an expensive suit, Margo decided, but an animal nonetheless. “You destroyed my apartment.”

  “You’ll have no need for that tawdry wardrobe. I’ve bought you a new one.” He stood, his black suit and long hair making him appear as sinister as he truly was. “Come, let me help you dress for our trip.”

  “Go to hell.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Careful. Your brother and Archard are not dead yet. My men are watching them at thi
s precise moment, waiting for my instructions.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “No, you are, if you think you can fight me and win. If you don’t come with me, and I don’t make a phone call to my men within the hour, they have orders to kill your brother, then Archard.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  He reached for an elegant white dress that was draped over the back of the paisley chair. Margo focused on it, wondered why she hadn’t noticed it sooner. “I don’t see that you have much choice.”

  He could be bluffing, but what if he wasn’t? “If I go with you, you’ll let them both live?”

  He handed her the dress. “The only promise I can make is that they’ll be dead within the hour if you don’t. Put it on.”

  Margo snatched the dress from him. “Turn your back.”

  He smiled, then slowly turned away from her. Quickly Margo dropped the sheet and slipped off the bed. She wiggled into the shift in record time, then glanced down seeing how the expensive dress accented every curve she owned.

  “Perfect,” he admired.

  Margo glanced up quickly, watched as Taber Denoux pulled a pair of white satin panties from his pocket. “Now these.” When she made no move to reach for them, he sighed. “Put them on, or come as you are. But you will come, or your brother and Archard will die like the cop downstairs.”

  Margo snatched the panties from him and discreetly worked them up her legs, careful that he saw only the bare minimum.

  “Modest, too. You really are a treasure.” He bent down and scooped up a pair of white shoes that sat beside the chair. “Now these.”

  This time Margo didn’t hesitate—she took the sandals and slipped them on. “You won’t get away with this. You might think so, but Ry Archard is the best detective in the city. He’ll track you down.”

  Taber Denoux forced Margo down the stairs ahead of him. And once she’d reached the kitchen, a man was waiting for them by the door. He was well over six feet tall, an ominous-looking man with light-colored, cropped hair in a military style that made him look as mean as it did capable. He wore a suit as expensive and dark as Taber Denoux’s.