Half Moon Bay

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Am I a candidate for your laser surgery?” Matt interrupted.

  “Marginal,” the German doctor conceded. “I can remove the tumor, but the heat from the laser might damage surrounding tissue.”

  The doctor lapsed into medical jargon, going into detail with the other doctors. Matt sat there, refusing to feel sorry for himself. Not quite making it. If she hadn’t come into his life, he would have gone on his merry way and had fun—with a capital F—until the end was near.

  But she had come into his life, bringing with her so much joy that leaving her behind gave him a crippling sense of defeat. Why me? Why now when I’m so happy? So much in love.

  “Matt,” Clive said to get his attention. “Do you understand the risk?”

  “You have a forty percent chance of walking out of the hospital,” the doctor said with just a trace of a German accent, “the day after surgery. If there’s damage, you may never regain consciousness.”

  He would be a vegetable, a burden to those he loved.

  “You could lead a normal life,” Clive said, “but there is a huge risk.”

  “The decision has to be made immediately,” the doctor said. “If the tumor grows any more, surgery will be out of the question.”

  It’s now or never. Once he would have said never and walked out the door, but now he carefully considered his options. If he took this chance, he might be with her forever. A home. A family—a big family. Even without asking he knew that’s what she wanted, too.

  Forever.

  They both wanted to be together forever and live a full life. Still, if the surgery failed—and it was experimental—they wouldn’t even have the present to enjoy. He was gambling with his life.

  Inwardly, he smiled, knowing some women were worth the risk. He’d found the love of his life. Why settle for a short time together when he could give them forever?

  With luck.

  “Let’s go for it. Just promise me that you won’t tell Shelly the odds. Act as if there’s no risk. She’s been through so much. I don’t want her worrying.”

  Chapter 32

  “The first night of the rest of my life.”

  Dexxter said the words out loud, but so softly that Irene, standing nearby in her bikini, couldn’t hear him. Actually, it had been the longest day of his life. Waiting was a bitch, but it was almost over. In another hour he’d be rid of Irene.

  And ready for sweet, sweet Shelly.

  “Is that the champagne?” Irene asked, meaning the Kooler bag he had in one hand.

  “Sure is. Three bottles of Cristal. Nothing but the best.” He held up his other hand and showed her two champagne flutes. He’d hidden the Tazer beneath the champagne at the bottom of the bag.

  They walked down to the pier where the Boston Whaler was moored. The small boat had come with the house, and they’d taken it out several times for harbor cruises. Tonight he needed to putt-putt around Key West, Stock Island, and Cow Key, then he would circle Sunset Key. When it was dark, he could get rid of Irene without anyone seeing him.

  “Just think,” Irene said as she climbed into the boat. “While we’re on the water, sipping champagne and enjoying the sunset, we’re making a fortune.”

  He cast off, tossing the mooring line onto the dock. “Right. Real Deal is a winner.”

  As much as he hated to admit it, Real Deal, his online gambling Web site, was a brilliant idea—Irene’s brain child. Not that there weren’t other on-line gambling sites, but Irene had found site designers who had come up with new, interesting interactive games. Best of all, she’d set up a bank account in the Caymans to handle the money.

  They’d never have the mess they had pirating software in Asia. What they were doing was legit, borderline, but legit. Irene had discovered a loophole in the law. On-line gambling was not regulated the way other casinos were.

  Too bad he wasn’t in love with her, he thought as he looked at her sitting nearby in her gold lamé bikini. Life would be so much easier if he were, but he had a thing for blondes. One blonde in particular.

  “Ahoy! Hello, Dexx … Irene!”

  “Shit!” It was the redhead from Half Moon Bay. Bubbles was coming toward them, driving Trevor’s boat. He cut back the engine and let it idle while she pulled alongside them.

  “Yaw’l out cruisin’?” Bubbles asked.

  “Yes,” Irene answered. “We’re celebrating our new Web site. Do you want to come with us?”

  Christ! Just what he didn’t need. A witness.

  “Thanks, but I can’t. I have to, like, feed the cats and take care of things at the house. I’m the only one there.”

  “Where is everyone?” he asked, more than just a little curious about Shelly.

  “They’re in Miami, seeing a doctor.”

  “They’re all sick?” Funny, everyone seemed all right last night—except the cat.

  “No. Trevor called a little while ago and said Matt is going to have surgery tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow! Why so fast?”

  “I’m not sure,” Bubbles said. “I picked up the message on the machine. Trevor did say that the surgery would be performed at Clive’s clinic.”

  “Matt’s probably having a tummy tuck,” Irene said with a laugh.

  “That’s, like, not very funny.” Bubbles revved the engine. “I’ve gotta run. Bingo, like, fell out of a tree or something last night.”

  “Really? Is he all right?” he asked, managing not to flash a shit-eating grin.

  “Yes, he’s at the vet’s. It’s Jiggs I’m worried about. He keeps, like, prowling the shore, looking for Bingo. He’s even waded into the water, which is a first for him. He won’t eat. At this rate, he’ll starve before Bingo comes home.”

  A tragedy, I’m sure.

  The light of the setting sun caught the stud in Bubble’s tongue as she smiled and backed the boat away. Bubbles was an airhead, but she had given him a brilliant idea, he decided as he watched her wave good-bye.

  Some people went into surgery and never came out alive.

  It would be an accident, but nothing like Irene’s. He’d have to hurry though. If Matt’s surgery was scheduled for tomorrow, Dexx would have to come up with a plan fast. He’d think of something; he always did.

  Irene asked, “Do you want me to open the champagne?”

  “No, no. I’ve got it.” How in hell was he going to open champagne and drive the boat? He couldn’t let her open the Kooler bag and find the Tazer. “You take the wheel, Irene. It’s time you learned to drive the Whaler.”

  She smiled that dippy little grin of hers and moved across the boat. “This is fun,” she said, the moment her hands touched the wheel.

  He popped the cork on the champagne and poured them each a glass. He wanted her blood alcohol level elevated. Drinking often contributed to “accidents.” He handed her the champagne.

  As she took the glass, he happened to look down and notice she was wearing gold lamé thongs that matched her bikini. He had to get her out of the shoes. How could he do that without making her suspicious?

  “Dexx, darling, don’t you think we should start planning the wedding?”

  He almost gagged on his champagne. “Of course, plan away. The sooner, the better.”

  He tuned her out as they motored around Key West and she babbled on and on about their wedding. Dexx was feeling a little tipsy himself by the time the sun had set and they were heading home, passing Half Moon Bay on their cruise around Sunset Key.

  “Look, there’s that stupid little dog.”

  Irene pointed to the shore at Half Moon Bay. Jiggs was swimming just offshore, dragging an orange life vest that must have fallen off a passing boat.

  “Poor little guy,” Irene said. “I’ll bet he thought the life jacket was the orange cat that he follows everywhere.”

  “Dogs are color-blind, but maybe orange reflects light differently than other colors. Who knows? Who cares?”

  “I kind of feel sorry for him.”

  “Let me drive,”
he said.

  They changed places, and he pulled the Kooler bag to his side. He’d put all three empty Cristal bottles back in the bag to hide the gun, which was on the bottom. He pulled it to the top so he could get to it quickly.

  They were coming close to home now, and Dexx gave himself a mental pat on the back for timing this just right. It was dark, and the shuttle from Sunset Key’s main dock was departing. It would be an hour before it returned.

  No one would be around to see anything.

  He put the boat in neutral and let it idle about one hundred yards off the beach. Irene was half in the bag from all the champagne she’d guzzled. She didn’t notice they were no longer moving. Staring dreamily at the moonlit water, she was smiling to herself. No doubt she was planning the wedding.

  He pulled out the Tazer and aimed it at Irene. “Take off your shoes.”

  “What?” Irene turned to him.

  The small light on the boat’s stern was bright enough for him to see the unfocused look in her eyes. Perfect. The coroner would say alcohol contributed to her “accident.”

  “Dexx, what’s going on?” As she spoke, she automatically followed his instructions and kicked off her thongs. “What kind of game is this?”

  “Sit on the rail.”

  “Why?” she asked, but she did it. “Is that a real gun?”

  She was balanced precariously on the edge of the boat. With his dumb luck she would fall overboard. “Hold on to the rail.”

  Wide-eyed, she gripped the edge of the boat with both hands. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  He couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m going to kill you.”

  It took a minute for the words to register in her alcohol soaked brain, then she asked, “Why?”

  “Because I want you out of my life—forever.”

  “But, Dexx—”

  “You’ve hounded me since grade school.”

  “I made you what you are. I found the deal in Singapore that launched Foxx Enterprises. I even found Zane to get rid of those troublemakers.”

  Her voice had such a hysterical edge to it that he almost laughed. He loved seeing her squirm.

  “I set up your gambling Web site.” She teetered to one side, then righted herself, adding, “I love you. I always have.”

  “Too bad. I’ve never loved you. I—”

  “Why did you ask me to marry you?”

  “To shut you up.”

  Irene blinked several times as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Finally, she said, “You’ve flipped over Shelly, haven’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you act when she’s around. Forget it. She’s in love with Matt. She makes fun of you every chance she gets.”

  “She’s flirting. That’s just her way. She’s classy, something you know nothing about.”

  “Pul-leeze. You’re short and nerdy with beady little eyes. I don’t know what I see in you. Shelly is never going to be interested.”

  “I have a way with women.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Dexx. You pay prostitutes. You’ve never had a relationship except for me.”

  He trained the gun on her sternum, just as the instructions on the NRA Web site had suggested. “You’re about to have a terrible accident. You went out for a swim and drowned.”

  “Get real. I was on the swim team, remember?”

  “This is a Tazer”—he waved the gun—“it will zap you. When you hit the water, you’ll be stunned. Your muscles—especially your lungs—won’t be able to function for a few seconds. I don’t care how good a swimmer you are, when your body recovers from the jolt of electricity, your lungs will be filled with water. You’re going to drown. The police will think it’s an accident, and I’ll get away with murder.”

  He squeezed the trigger. Zap. The impact sent her flying backward with an expression on her face as if she’d been flash-frozen. For a moment she bobbed on the surface, then the dark water sucked her under.

  He waited, but she didn’t resurface. He put the boat in gear and motored the short distance to his dock. Perfect. Flawless, really.

  To the authorities it would appear that she’d left her home for a swim and drowned. A tragic end for such a talented woman. No one would suspect murder.

  Whistling to himself, he tied up the Whaler, then walked up to the dark house. The only thing remaining was reporting Irene missing. It could wait until morning, he decided.

  He would get on his computer and find some clever way of killing Matt, then he would go to sleep. The authorities would be told he worked late, then went to bed. The last time he’d seen his beloved fiancée was when she went for a swim in the early evening. He hadn’t missed Irene until morning.

  He went upstairs, so happy that he took two stairs at a time, shouting, “Free. Free at last.”

  Up in his office, overlooking the water, he turned on his computer. After surfing through cyberspace for a few minutes, Dexx decided he was too keyed up to work. He walked out onto the large rooftop deck where he and Irene had watched the sunset.

  At the bar he poured himself a tumbler of Glenlivet. Champagne was for pussies. Real men drank single malt scotch. Sipping the scotch, he strolled around the deck.

  Half Moon Bay had a much better view, and it was much more private. The crescent beach was guarded on one side by a cluster of palms. On the other side, mangroves created a natural barrier.

  Shelly belonged at Half Moon Bay.

  With all the money Real Deal was going to make, he could give her anything her heart desired. He wanted to pamper her. Irene could rot in hell. He knew that Shelly was attracted to him.

  With Jensen out of the way—

  A scraping sound behind him caught his attention. He turned, his heart slammed against his chest, and the drink slipped from his hand. It crashed to the deck, splashing all over his bare legs.

  “Irene? How—how’d—”

  “The gun did knock me for a loop, but I managed to clear my lungs. Then I swam to shore. I was suspicious, Dexx. The cheesy ring. Letting me plan the wedding. I smelled a rat and dumped my champagne over the side when you weren’t looking.”

  “Shit!”

  She advanced on him, a revolver in her hand. “You know, Dexx, I wasted half my life on you.” She tossed her head, and a strand of wet black hair fell over one eye. “And what do I get?”

  “It was just a game,” he muttered.

  “No, it wasn’t. You wanted me out of the way so you could have Shelly. I knew what you did in Singapore, and you couldn’t afford to have me go to the FBI. Now I’m taking what’s rightfully mine—Real Deal. I’m going to be filthy rich and you’re going to be six feet under.”

  The feral glint in her dark eyes was more chilling than her words. She loved him; he couldn’t believe she would actually kill him. She was just giving him a dose of his own medicine. Scaring him.

  “Irene baby—”

  “Shut up. You’re worthless.” She prodded his bare chest with the muzzle of the gun. “Well, not quite worthless. I like your idea of getting rid of people with an accident. I’m going to see that Shelly has the same accident you planned for me.

  “I’ll stun her with your Tazer and make sure she falls in the water. That way she’ll drown, the way I was supposed to die. But first I’m going to kill you.”

  “Me?” Fear liquefied in his bowels. He was going to die. “Remember, you love me.”

  “Loved. Past tense.”

  She poked him with the gun, and he backed up a step. Then another and another. His butt hit the rail surrounding the rooftop deck.

  “We drank a lot of champagne on the harbor cruise, then you came up here and continued to drink,” she said with a satanic smile. “I was down in the kitchen when I heard this terrible noise. You’d slipped and fallen off the deck.”

  She lowered one shoulder and slammed into his chest and shoved him, putting all her weight into the sudden movement. He grabbed for the rail, but the force of their weight snapped the wooden railing.

/>   He was airborne for a second, one hand brushing the side of the house. The last thing he saw was Irene waving good-bye.

  Chapter 33

  “Matt, do you think Bubbles is having a party?” Even though it was nearly midnight as they were returning to Half Moon Bay, she noticed the lights inside the house.

  “Could be.”

  They were alone in Trevor’s launch, having left Dr. Dietz and Trevor to spend the night at Clive’s home. It was closer to the airport where Trevor would meet Emily’s plane. Matt had called his sister, and she was flying in on the first flight the following morning. That was the excuse they gave, but she suspected they wanted to give them time alone. Apparently, they’d forgotten Bubbles.

  As they pulled up to the dock, she spotted Jiggs standing nearby, forlornly staring out at the water. “He’s lost without Bingo.”

  “Uh-huh,” Matt responded.

  He’d been preoccupied since they’d received the news that his tumor was operable if they used Dr. Dietz’s new laser technique. She’d been jubilant, hardly able to contain her joy, but something was troubling Matt, and she was fairly certain she knew what it was.

  “You’re afraid of what Emily’s going to say when she finds out you’ve taken up with Rochelle Ralston again, aren’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I say we whisper in her ear and tell her the truth. She’s going to be worried about the surgery. Let’s not give her anything else to be concerned about.”

  “No. I explained to Emily how much you mean to me. Let’s leave it at that until the FBI arrests Dexxter. Emily’s bound to be a little hostile to you, but ignore it. Em can be a hothead sometimes.”

  “I guess the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, does it? You have a temper too.”

  She didn’t want to argue with him, so she walked up to the house at his side. The lights were on, but there was no sign of Bubbles except for a half-eaten bowl of ice cream that had melted into a puddle of chocolate.

  “What do you suppose happened to Bubbles?”

  Matt shrugged. Again, indifference, not concern, played across his face. He was dead tired, she realized. Bingo’s accident and the early flight to Miami meant they hadn’t gotten much sleep.