Assassins and Liars

by Charles Dougherty

  "About the groceries," I said.

  She grinned. "Beans and rice with just chorizo can taste pretty good when you're hungry," she said. "I think we should haul ass. Somebody's probably called the cops, after all the racket this crybaby made."

  "Walk back to the dinghy fast, but don't run," I said. "Be cool."

  "Got it, skipper. It's not my first time, either."

  3

  "Can't you make this thing go any faster?" Mary asked.

  We were halfway back to Island Girl when we heard the first sirens.

  "Nope. This is all she'll do. Soon as we're alongside, let me get aboard and fire up the diesel. While I'm doing that, you take the outboard off the transom and hand it to me. With me so far?"

  "Yes."

  "Once we've got the outboard off, climb up with the painter and the stern line. Give me the stern line and we'll swing the dinghy up on deck. While I get the anchor in, you let the air out of the dinghy and roll it up. Get it lashed down on deck as best you can."

  "Got it, Finn," she said, as I killed the outboard and scrambled over the lifelines.

  I got the diesel running and turned around to find the outboard resting on the side deck. Mary stood next to it, holding the stern line out for me. I took it, and we lifted the empty inflatable aboard. She bent to open the three air valves. The air hissed out while I picked up the little outboard and clamped it on the stern rail where I stored it.

  The dinghy was half-flat by the time I pulled the anchor in and lashed it in its chocks. I stepped behind the helm and got Island Girl under way. Mary was rolling the inflatable, forcing the remaining air out. She lashed it down in front of the mast by the time I negotiated the dog-leg in the channel.

  I could still hear the sirens in the distance. We would be gone from the harbor by the time the cops got to town.

  "I forgot to say thanks," Mary said, joining me in the cockpit.

  "You're welcome," I said. "It was kind of hectic back there."

  "If you're okay for a few minutes, I'll go below and cook dinner. You're headed for Cabo Rojo, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "I should be able to get it done by the time we get there. It'll be too rough to cook once we round the cape."

  "Use the pressure cooker," I said. "It's — "

  "I saw it," she said, backing down the companionway ladder.

  She was still working in the galley when I left the harbor entrance channel. There wasn't much breeze; the island was blocking the trade winds. We would find cape-effect wind as we approached Cabo Rojo. It would be blowing right from the direction we wanted to go.

  I planned to motor along close to shore to avoid the foul wind as long as I could. That meant burning diesel fuel, but the tank was full. Once we cleared the cape, we could make sail.

  I was itching to ask her about the three guys in the car, but I knew she wouldn't be able to hear me over the engine noise. The engine box is right next to the galley. I'd just have to be patient.

  She was right about the rough water to come. Once we hit Cabo Rojo, we'd have ten or twelve hours before things settled down enough for us to enjoy the ride again.

  Thinking of the three thugs reminded me that I snatched their car keys. I fished them from my pocket and saw a rental company's tag on them. I could check on who rented the car, if need be. Mary might know who they were, but would she share that with me?

  When she first invited herself to come along, I figured she would be company on a long voyage and give me a little camouflage, in the bargain.

  If the people I was going to see were watching for me, which was a safe bet, they wouldn't be expecting me in my current, weather-beaten incarnation. Certainly, they wouldn't expect me to have an attractive young woman in tow.

  Now, though, I was wondering what kind of baggage that attractive young woman carried besides her backpack. Three guys in a rental car trying to kidnap her wasn't exactly traveling light, to my way of thinking.

  Chances were those boys weren't trying to snatch a woman at random. First, they were too well organized. Second, they sure as hell wouldn't have staked out the marina in Puerto Real, not on a weekday afternoon. Puerto Real's a quiet little fishing village, except for weekend sport fishermen.

  If I guessed right, those three were looking for Mary in particular. That meant somebody would eventually get around to asking Julio, the bartender, about her. They saw us come from the marina, and Julio was an obvious source of information, tucked back in his corner of the bar.

  I was just rolling all that around in my mind when she set two steaming bowls of black beans and rice on the bridge deck. She scrambled up the companionway ladder and stood up, watching my reaction as I took in the bikini she was almost wearing.

  I've got a decent poker face, but it must have failed me, because she laughed at me. A nice, musical laugh, that made me want to tell her all the jokes I knew, just so I could hear more of it.

  I shook my head and shifted my position, draping my left leg over the tiller to hold our course. As I reached toward the bowls, she dropped to the seat across from me and picked one up, handing it to me.

  "It was hot down in the galley," she said. "I'll get dressed in a minute, as soon as I cool off."

  "Take your time," I said. "Might as well be comfortable."

  She laughed again and leaned forward, reaching for the other bowl. I knew there was something I needed to ask her, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what it was.

  4

  "Waiting to make sail until we round the cape?" she asked.

  "Yep," I answered, between mouthfuls. "Good job on dinner. You put something in here besides the chorizo, didn't you?"

  "Yes. I have a few packets of sazón in my backpack. You like it okay?"

  "Better than okay," I said, resisting the urge to lick my empty bowl. "But that seems like a funny thing to have in your backpack."

  She smiled, but she didn't offer an explanation. I didn't press her. Of all the odd things she could have in the backpack, seasoning mix wasn't high on my list of worries. She finished her dinner and picked my bowl up.

  "More?" she asked. "There's plenty. I figured we could warm it up later instead of having to cook again."

  "Good for you. You've done this before."

  "I told you I had." She was frowning.

  "I meant sailing a small boat in open water. You told me about crewing on a Perini Navi. What was it? Hundred thirty feet?"

  "Give or take," she said. "Why?"

  "No reason. It's just a little different offshore on a 34-footer. Things like cooking, for example."

  "Oh," she said. "Yeah, that's true. I grew up in a sailing family. Thirty-four feet's big compared to what I learned on. My father raced Lightnings."

  "You wouldn't have done much cooking on a Lightning."

  She chuckled. "No. My brother's got an old Folkboat. The two of us did a little cruising on that when I was in college."

  I nodded.

  "If you're done eating," she said, "I'll go wash these up and square away the galley. Should I make a thermos of coffee for the evening watch?"

  "Sure. The thermos is — "

  "I saw it," she said, standing up with a bowl in each hand. "In the locker with the coffee pot and the coffee. Let me go get everything taken care of before it gets rough, okay?"

  "Sure. I was enjoying the company."

  She gave me another one of those smiles that took my breath away. "Me, too. We'll talk more."

  She went below, and I was alone with the rumble of the diesel.

  When she came back, I planned to raise the topic of the three men who tried to get her in the car in Puerto Real. I thought she might bring it up herself. There was plenty of opportunity, but she kept the conversation to sailing and food.

  And that took me back to my thoughts before she served our dinner. When somebody got around to following up on what happened to the three men, they would find Julio, the bartender at the place in the marina.

  A little
time would pass before that happened, though. Those men would be tangled up with the cops for a while, and the two who mixed it up with Mary would spend some hospital time recovering.

  Once somebody found Julio, he would take their money and answer their questions. But he didn't know much about the gringo named Finn.

  He could tell them I drank Presidente and tipped well. I lived on a beat-up little sloop named Island Girl. The boat was in the harbor for a week. And that was all Julio knew about me.

  I didn't tell anybody where I came from or where I was going. There were a few boat names that were more common than Island Girl, but not many. They'd have a tough time following us, unless they could track Mary somehow.

  That was why I needed to get her to tell me what was going on in her life. Puerto Rico's not huge, but there are lots of boats there. Most of the yachts in transit were on the other end of the island.

  The boats in Puerto Real stayed there for the long term. Not many visitors pass through, like I did. Mary's story of trying to hitch a ride didn't ring true.

  Something caused the three men to look for her in Puerto Real. The worst case would be that somebody planted a tracking device in Mary's stuff. That could cause a problem for us.

  And I wanted to know what brought her to Puerto Real. Like I said, it wasn't high on the list of places to hitch a ride on a cruising boat. Island Girl was the only cruising boat there during my stay.

  That brought me to one more niggling little worry. I wondered about the bikini. After my initial shock, I ignored that as best I could. It was hot below, especially when you were cooking. Or was she trying to distract me?

  It almost worked; she was an eyeful, but I've been around the block too many times to fall prey to that trick. Besides, she was twenty-four. She was only about six years older than my — No. I'm not going to do that. Mary's enough of a distraction until I figure out what her game is.

  At least I got a better look at that cobra tattooed on her thigh. When I first saw it, the head just below the denim of her cutoffs, I didn't take in much but the head, with its gaping mouth and dripping fangs.

  Thanks to the bikini and her moving around the cockpit, I had a better appreciation for the skill of the artist. The snake's tail wrapped around her upper thigh, tapering into a coil down close to the back of her knee.

  When she came up into the cockpit to pick up the dishes of beans and rice, her back was to me. As she turned to hand me the dish, my eyes involuntarily followed the cobra's body around her thigh. The ripple of her muscles beneath her skin and the perspective of the art brought the cobra to life. I flinched as I came face to face with it, just like I did the first time.

  The tail on the back of her thigh seemed too small to belong to the snake on the front. That added to the shock effect when she turned; the tattoo was meant to frighten. As amazing as the artwork was, something about that snake still didn't quite add up.

  The tattoo was threatening, especially after seeing her destroy those two thugs. Otherwise, she gave the impression of a clean-cut young woman.

  Why would she have such an out-of-character tattoo? Young women had tattoos these days, but not like that. What did that say about her? Was she…

  "Shit, Finn. Stop it," I mumbled to myself.

  "You say something?" she asked, peering out of the companionway.

  "Just clearing my throat," I said.

  "You want coffee now?" she asked.

  "No. I'll save it until I need it tonight. You done with the dishes?"

  "Yes." She climbed into the cockpit, one arm cradling the thermos. "Is there somewhere to stash this up here?"

  "Stick it in that storage netting on the starboard side of the footwell." I noticed she put the T-shirt and cutoffs back on. Maybe she did just get hot working over the stove earlier.

  "What about watches?" she asked, plopping down on the seat across from me.

  "I'm flexible," I said. "I'm used to being solo, so any help will be a luxury. Do you have any preference?"

  "How about four hours on, four off?" she asked.

  "Sounds good to me if it'll work for you."

  "I'm pretty wired right now," she said. "I would say I'd take her and let you get some rest, but it'll be dark soon. Maybe you should get us around Cabo Rojo and in open water before I take her. Strange boat, and all."

  "That's fine. I'm wired, too. Besides, it'll be easier to get the sails up with both of us on deck. We should round the cape in another hour. Then we'll see how things are going."

  "Okay," she said. "About the elephant in the room ..."

  "I thought maybe you hadn't noticed," I said.

  "I knew it was there. I just wasn't ready to talk about it. Thanks for not pressing me."

  "You're welcome, but I gotta tell you, my curiosity was about to get the best of me. I figured you'd tell me about it when you were ready, or when I couldn't stand to wait any longer."

  "You're a strange man, Finn. In a nice way, I mean."

  "Thanks, I guess."

  She gave me another one of those smiles. "You're welcome. It was a compliment. You're comfortable to be with. But about those three men ..."

  "Yes? Who were they?" I asked.

  "I don't know. They've been watching me since I got off the Perini Navi in Fajardo. They spooked me; I'll tell you that."

  "Watching you? Any idea why?"

  She shook her head. "It was weird, like I'd glimpse one of them out of the corner of my eye every so often. That was at first. Then I realized it was two different men. And everywhere I went, one or the other of them would pop up." She shuddered.

  "You'd never seen them before that?"

  She shook her head. "No."

  "Can you connect them with the yacht? The Perini Navi?"

  "No."

  "Did it have a name?"

  "Sisyphus," she said. "You know the reference?"

  "The son of Aeolus," I said. "Condemned to roll that rock up the hill over and over forever. I've had days like that."

  "Me, too."

  "Who owns her?"

  "I don't know. None of the crew did. Well, I guess maybe the captain did. But nobody made the trip out except crew. No guests."

  "Were you paid crew?"

  "I was supposed to be. They stiffed me, but that's another story."

  "We've got time."

  She pursed her lips and looked away for several seconds, watching the sun sinking toward the horizon.

  "There were a dozen people in the crew — nine men and three women. The women were stewardesses, except for me. I was a deckhand. The mate and the rest of the guys, they passed the women around. The captain wasn't part of it, but he didn't do anything to stop it, either. It was like part of the job, one of the stewardesses told me. 'Go along to get along,' she said. Not my style."

  "So, they booted you without paying you?"

  "Well, there's a little more to it. The mate was abusive when I wouldn't play along with him. I kind of broke his arm."

  "Kind of?" I chuckled at that.

  "Yeah. In two places. And a few of his ribs. He was a wimp; ended up spending the rest of the voyage laid up in his cabin taking pain pills. So they didn't pay me. Captain threatened to press charges if I made trouble about it. Like that."

  "Uh-huh," I said. "Where'd you learn to handle yourself, anyway? You made short work of those guys in Puerto Real. Did a lot of damage in a hurry."

  "My brother."

  "The one with the boat?"

  "Right."

  "He some kind of badass?"

  "He was. He was into mixed martial arts, a cage fighter. Never lost a match. Until ..." She shook her head.

  "Did something happen to him?"

  "He was in the National Guard. He was wounded in Iraq and discharged with a disability pension."

  "Ouch," I said. "I guess his mixed martial arts days are over."

  "Yes and no. He could still fight, but they won't let him. He lost his temper in a couple of matches. He was about to kill one guy; they
stopped the match. It took three people to pull him off the other fighter."

  "Back to those three guys in the car," I said. "You think maybe they were friends of the mate on Sisyphus?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know, but if they were, why were they following me? They could have jumped me anywhere. Why in Puerto Real?"

  Good point, I thought. "What were you doing in Puerto Real?"

  "I couldn't get another paid crew position. The people on Sisyphus blacklisted me with the crew agencies. I looked for volunteer crew jobs, but I guess it's the wrong time of the year, or something. And most of the private boats were sailed by couples or families. They weren't looking for crew. I ran across a few single-handers, but there was a reason they were single-handers, you know? Anyhow, I decided to see a little of Puerto Rico while I was there. I was working my way around the island, and Puerto Real was on my route."

  "You think maybe those guys were following you to make sure you didn't leave the island?"

  "I didn't think of that. You're saying when they saw me connect with you they decided to stop me? But why?"

  "I don't have any answers, Mary. It was just a thought."

  "You okay for a little while?" she asked.

  "Sure. Why?"

  "I need to use the head, and it's almost time to make sail. I'll be back in a few minutes."

  5

  By the time Mary came back on deck, we were within a mile of Cabo Rojo. The easterly trade wind was whipping around the cape, blowing right in our faces.

  "Might as well make sail," I said. "We'll put her on a close reach on the port tack and ride the wind around the cape. Once we're well clear, it should have backed enough for us to lay a southeasterly course. What do you think?"

  "Makes sense," she said. "What would you like for me to do? Hoist the main, or take the helm?"

  "Sea state's sloppy," I said. "I'll uncover the main and raise it; I know all the boat's little peculiarities. Time enough for you to learn her quirks when it's not so rough."

  "You're the skipper," she said, settling onto the cockpit seat across from me and reaching for the tiller. "I'll wait until you've got the cover off the main before I head her up into the wind."