by Melissa Good
what that smells like. All hotels use the same kind.”
“Perfume,” Dar replied quietly. “Our little friend Christen’s perfume.”
Kerry stared at her. One blond eyebrow lifted slightly. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I didn’t even notice she was wearing any.”
“I noticed,” Dar replied. “Because I hate the brand. It’s the same one Eleanor uses.”
“Ah!” Bingo. Kerry slapped her head. “No wonder it seemed familiar.” She paused. “Are you saying she was here in our room?”
Dar sat down on the bed, letting her elbows rest on her knees.
“Can’t think of any way for her perfume to get here without her, so yeah.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah.” Dar frowned. “I’m going to go check the boat.” She got up and headed for the door.
“Dar.” Kerry unzipped Dar’s overnight bag. “Here. Not that I mind you storming around like an escapee from the swimsuit competition of the Ms. Aggressive America, but…” She tossed her lover a long black T-shirt with a snarling tiger on it.
“Thanks.” Dar pulled the shirt on over her bathing suit and picked up the pouch in which she’d carried their keys. “Be right back.”
“Be careful,” Kerry called after her, watching as the door shut behind Dar. For a moment she just stood there, then she put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Boy, this sucks.” She opened her own bag and riffled through its contents, wondering what the creepy woman had been looking for. They’d only packed a few shirts, their swimsuits, and some other casual wear, and even the most avid of detectives probably couldn’t have gotten much information from their choice of bathroom toiletries, other than the fact that they had a preference for mint toothpaste and apricot body scrub.
Of course, the laptop was a mine of information, but it might as well have been in Fort Knox for all the good its presence could have done anyone. The security on the machine that held the keys to the company was so anally extensive, even Mark couldn’t break into it.
Even removing the hard drive wouldn’t do a thing for the potential hacker. Without Dar’s encryption algorithms, the data was scrambled past recovery, and she never kept much locally anyway.
So, if not information, what were they looking for?
Another thought occurred to her. What if they weren’t looking for anything? What if they planted a bug? “Son of a bitch.” Kerry sat down and flipped open the laptop, and waited for the log-in to come up. When it did, she logged in, waited for it to validate her, then started up the broad spectrum data analyzer program Dar kept on the drive.
120 Melissa Good Bugs weren’t really that complex, and one of the first things Dar had taught her was how to find them. She’d felt a little funny knowing how frequent their use was in their particular trade, but competition was fierce, and salesmen were not above using them to get any advantage they could.
Dar, she’d been told, never bothered with them. Sometimes when she knew a bug was there, she’d have fun with the planter by passing along the most outlandish information, then waiting for it to come back in a bid meeting—which it sometimes did.
The program started up and she configured it, setting it to scan using two specialized ports for all frequencies across the bandwidth used for radio transmission. She started it running and propped her chin on her fist, waiting. You could do that with cell phones, too, and anything else that used electronic signals that went through the air—like wireless networks, which was what the program had really been designed to analyze.
It showed nothing until she started reciting the pledge of allegiance. Then the program picked up scans on two frequencies, and Kerry shook her head in irritation. She left the program running and slowly walked around, continuing her oration and watching the screen. Near the ornate lamp, the signal peaked.
Kerry regarded the lamp, then she simply unplugged it, picked it up, and carried it outside. She set it in the far corner of the porch and went back inside.
Now the program showed a clean scan again. Kerry gave it the acid test—she started singing. Even at her top volume, the scan remained quiet. With a nod of satisfaction, she went back outside and picked up the small hose attached to the spigot, turned the water on, and rinsed off their wetsuits with careful thoroughness.
There is nothing, Kerry sprayed the inside of the suits, nothing on earth that smells worse than a dirty wetsuit.
After a moment, she glanced over, then sprayed the lamp for good measure. Except scuzzy, rose water wearing, obnoxious detectives, that is.
DAR HEADED FOR the docks, conscious of a growing anger.
She hadn’t been asking for trouble out there; in fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid it, but damn it, the bastards kept coming after them and now she was starting to get really pissed off about it. She made her way down toward the slip in which they’d docked and used the key she’d been given to unlock the steel gate that blocked off the slip. It appeared undisturbed, but so had their hotel room door, and Dar wasn’t stupid enough to think whoever got paid off to let the slimebags in there hadn’t also done the same for the gate at the marina.
Terrors of the High Seas 121
The boat was floating quietly, tied to its pylons—the umbilicals plugged into dockside power to run the few things they’d left on, like the refrigerator. Dar stepped onto the deck and dropped down onto the stern, looking around carefully before she went to the cabin door.
It was a small brass lock, not really intended for serious security, and Dar fitted her key in and turned it without encountering any resistance. She peered at the brass plate, then pushed the cabin door open and slipped inside, quickly closing the door after her.
She relaxed at once. Just as the faintest hints of strange perfume had triggered her senses in the hotel room, the absence of anything she hadn’t expected reassured her here. Dar inspected the interior anyway, moving into the very front of the bow, then checking the master bedroom where the scent, since the hatches were closed, was definitely very familiar to her. “Well,” she spoke into the silence, “as long as I’m here, might as well shower and change.”
She went to the dresser and took out a pair of stone-washed shorts overalls and a dark blue shirt, leaving them on the bed as she went into the bathroom and flipped on the water. She slid out of her swimsuit, ducked under the water, and quickly scrubbed the salt off her skin. A moment more, and she’d rinsed the soap out of her hair and was stepping out of the shower, turning off the water, and grabbing one of the towels draped over the holder in the small space. She dried herself off and wrapped the towel around her, then emerged and headed back to the bedroom.
Now that she was sure the boat was secure, she started considering both what had happened, and her options. She dressed as she thought, tucking the shirt into her overalls and buckling the shoulder straps. When she finished, she reviewed the results in the mirror. “Cute and conservative. You’re starting to look like Kerry.”
Dar sighed, then unsnapped one of the shoulder straps and let the front of the garment rakishly hang half down. “That’s better.” She added her wraparound sunglasses, then grunted, satisfied with her changes.
As she passed back out through the living area, she paused, then sidetracked to the equipment locker. She opened the top, moving Kerry’s shotgun aside to get to a blue milk crate underneath. Inside there was a thick piece of hardened steel chain and a padlock. She pulled out the chain and looped it around her neck, then picked up the padlock, hefting it as she left the cabin and locked the door behind her.
On the deck, she paused, acknowledging her territorial reaction over the boat. It wasn’t as if they had anything truly valuable on board—or even that personal, but she regarded this vessel as part of 122 Melissa Good their private space and the thought of anyone invading it made her hackles stand right up.
With a slight snort, she stepped up onto the side of the boat, then leaped to the dock, landing lightly and padding barefoot back up to the gate. Hear
ing voices on the other side, she slowed as she approached it, then stopped when she recognized one of the speakers as Juan Carlos. He was standing with a security guard on the other side of the gate, and they both stopped speaking when they looked through the bars and spotted Dar.
Dar leaned on the gate and stared steadily at them from behind her sunglasses. “Something I can do for you?” she asked in a tone usually reserved for budget meetings.
The security guard looked, if anything, relieved. “Ma’am, this gentleman was asking to be let into your slip.”
Dar kept her stare on Juan Carlos, who was stone faced.
“Why?”
The security guard turned to him questioningly. “Sir?”
“I have reason to believe some of my property is there,” Juan Carlos said smoothly. “I wish to look.”
“Then call the cops,” Dar replied calmly. “File charges, and let them get a search warrant instead of trying to bully the staff into doing something you, and they…” she gave the guard a look,
“know is illegal.”
“This does not have to get nasty,” the detective said.
“It already is,” Dar said. “And it’s going to get a lot nastier when I get over to this resort’s corporate offices and file a complaint, not only for this, but because they let your little partner into our hotel room.”
Imperceptibly, the security guard edged closer to Dar and farther away from Juan Carlos.
“Ms. Roberts, I do not think you know who you are dealing with.”
Dar smiled, then she pulled off her glasses and pinned him with a stare. “No,” her voice dropped to a low rumble, “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.” She pulled the gate open and emerged onto the dock. “So take your slimy boss, your stinky partner, and whatever idiotic business you’re involved with, and get all of it out of my sight unless you want more trouble than you know what to do with landing right on your ass.” She pointed at Juan Carlos’ chest. “Now move it.”
“If you force us to take this to the authorities, you will regret it,” he said, apparently not intimidated. “I can get a search warrant, and I will.” He turned and walked away slowly, assuming an air of casual disinterest.
Dar shook her head. “What a moron.” She turned and wrapped the chain around the gate. “How much was he offering you to let Terrors of the High Seas 123
him in?” she asked suddenly, turning to the guard who was still standing there watching her.
The guard had the grace to look embarrassed.
“C’mon.” Dar leaned on the gate. “Pencil neck like him wouldn’t scare someone like you.”
The guard shifted his brawny shoulders, responding to the compliment with a sheepish grin. “Twenty dollars,” he admitted.
“He was about to go to fifty when you walked up.”
“Cheapskate.” Dar finished putting the lock on the gate, closing it with a distinct click. She opened the pouch she was carrying and removed two bills, reached over, and slid them into the guard’s khaki shirt pocket. His eyes widened at the amount. “I can buy his boss for petty cash,” Dar said. “So you tell everyone if they get an offer from them, look me up first. I’ll do better.”
“Yes, ma’am!” the guard responded enthusiastically. “I’ll make sure everyone knows!” He gave her a little wave, then trotted off down the dock, taking a moment to examine the contents of his pocket as he ran.
Dar dusted off her hands, then followed him. “When you care enough to buy the very best,” she muttered, shaking her head. Now things were getting to the point where she knew she had to do something about them. The question was, what?
Well. Dar considered as she walked. Usually she solved problems by cutting to the chase and going to the very top. She didn’t know where John DeSalliers was, but she bet if she went high enough at this resort, someone did. And she bet she could make them tell her.
Chapter
Twelve
KERRY RAN A brush through her damp hair, peering at her reflection in the room’s mirror. She’d showered and slipped into a pair of neatly pressed khaki shorts with a pristine, white T-shirt tucked into them. The fabric made a nice contrast with her tan, and she smiled back at the face in the mirror as she pulled out her chain and let the ring threaded on it rest against the hollow of her throat.
The sparkle caught her eye, and she studied the ring, running her fingertip lightly over its brilliant stone, pondering again whether she should remove it from the chain and wear it. The idea appealed to her but she hesitated, frowning a little at her reflection and leaving the chain where it was. She didn’t want Dar to feel pressured into doing the same thing, and she knew how much her partner disliked wearing anything on her hands.
“Ah well.” Kerry met her eyes in the mirror. “Probably better to leave it off since we’re out here. I don’t want to lose it, either.”
The sound of a key in the lock made her look around, and she stepped back from the mirror as it swung inward, admitting Dar’s tall figure. “Hey.”
Dar turned a pair of stormy blue eyes on her, then put a finger to her lips.
“Already found it,” Kerry replied in a normal tone of voice.
“It’s outside.” She stepped forward and gladly accepted the heartfelt kiss on the lips. “Hey, I had a great teacher.”
Dar gave her a hug as well. “Good work. I just prevented her slimy partner from searching the boat.”
“You look cute,” Kerry observed, flicking the hanging strap on Dar’s overalls.
“Cute wasn’t what I was going for.” Dar sighed. “They think we’ve got something of theirs.”
“Really?” Kerry took her hand and led Dar into the room, sitting on the couch and pulling Dar down with her. “What?”
“I have no idea.” Dar propped one bare foot up on the table and studied it. “I was going to just go right up to the manager’s office and start yelling at people, but I realized I don’t have enough Terrors of the High Seas 125
data to yell intelligently.”
“I hate when that happens.”
“Me too,” Dar agreed. “So I decided to come back here, and maybe between the two of us, we can start figuring this thing out.”
“All right.” Kerry felt a surge of pride at the statement. It felt good to hear the confidence in her in Dar’s voice. “I could use some coffee. You?”
“Yeah.”
Kerry got up and went to the well-stocked coffee maker on the dais near the window. She busied herself starting a pot while she assembled her thoughts. “Okay. First off, here’s what we know.”
Dar squirmed around and got comfortable, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch as she listened to Kerry.
“First, we encountered a large vessel, acting in a very rude manner, crossing the Florida Straits,” Kerry began, as she set up two cups. “Despite your giving them a friendly warning, they rejected the warning without consideration.”
“Right.”
“Second, we encountered a smaller vessel circling us after we dove that little wreck not far off Charlie and Bud’s island. The boat did not approach or contact us, but appeared to be watching what we were doing.”
“Right,” Dar agreed again.
“Third, after we get to Bud and Charlie’s island, the small boat follows us there, and two people get off and question us about where we were diving.” Kerry turned and leaned against the credenza as the coffee brewed. “But they don’t ask us specifics, they just make a claim to that area.”
“Exactly.”
“Fourth, when we are out in that same area having dinner, we get accosted by what appears to be the same large rude vessel, and the crew attempts to board us. We also get chased by them, without explanation.”
“But they don’t shoot at us,” Dar added.
“Even though they must have seen me on the stern with a loaded shotgun.” Kerry nodded. “Okay, fifth—we pick up a man from a capsized boat who just coincidentally is here apparently trying to
recover something from the exact same small wreck you and I happened to dive on the day before.”
Dar’s eyebrow lifted.
“And, who just coincidentally happens to have tangled with the two people from the small boat, and probably whoever is in charge of the large boat over that spot of the ocean.”
“Yeah,” Dar murmured.
“Are these coincidences all piling up for you like they are for me?”
126 Melissa Good
“Oh yeah.”
“Sixth, now we get here, and coincidentally find the people from the small boat staying at the same resort we are, and snooping in our hotel room and trying to search our boat for some undisclosed reason.” Kerry turned and poured out two cups of coffee, stirring them and bringing them both back over to the couch.
She handed one to Dar and sat down cross-legged next to her. “So, what the hell is going on?”
Dar sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Well, I think it’s safe to assume they think we pulled something up from that wreck,” she said. “Question is, what could we find in an old fishing trawler that would interest anyone?”
“There wasn’t much to see, Dar,” Kerry said. “Just some old crates.”
“No, there wasn’t,” Dar recalled. “It’s not a bad wreck. There’s a lot of good coral there, but why it’s of interest to a bunch of…”
She stopped speaking, her brow creasing thoughtfully. “We did bring up something.”
Kerry stared, then exhaled. “The box.” She would have slapped herself if she hadn’t been holding a cup of coffee. “But, Dar… it’s just an old wooden box, half covered in coral,” she protested. “We couldn’t even open it it’s so encrusted.”
“I know,” Dar agreed. “You and I know that, but if someone saw us bringing up the catch bag and looking at something, how would they know what it was?” She got up and paced. “So the question is—what is it they’re really after, that they think we might have found?”
What indeed? Kerry cupped her hands around her coffee and slowly drank from the cup. “First off, we need to find out more about that fishing trawler, right?”