"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
Running Under Sail
"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
Running Under Sail
"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 islands. 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."
"Did you ever see stars like that?" Connie asked.
"Never. It's because there's not much air pollution down here, right?"
"Yes, partly. Light pollution's minimal, too, although there is some, this close to the islands. In mid-ocean, the sky's covered with stars from horizon to horizon, unless there's a big moon."
"Do you have any maps?" Sadie asked after a minute or two.
"Sure. We call them charts on a boat. Want me to bring one up for you?"
"Later, maybe. I'd like to get a grasp of where we are, but right now, I'll just settle for being under the stars. Thanks for sharing them with me."
"She's somethin', ain't she?" Jonas Pratt said to the man at his table.
"Hell, yeah, I could get used to wakin' up next to her," the burly, unshaven man said as they watched the naked woman swinging herself around the polished brass pole, the rainbow-hued spotlight playing over her glistening flesh.
"Some muscles on that one," he continued, after a few seconds. "Not like that Sadie. Just as well you put her ass to work singin'. She got a cute ass, but that's about it; no damn tits at all."
"Uh-huh," Pratt said, lighting a cigarette, his eyes raking the crowd of sweating men shoving one another as they fought to get close enough to the low stage to stick bills to the girl's oiled skin. Her number finished, she stood as close to the edge of the stage as she could get, blowing kisses to the hooting drunks, turning slowly, thrusting her hips toward them.
"Speakin' of Sadie," Pratt said, laughing at the way the men drooled over the cavorting girl. "I need you to track her down for me."
"You shittin' me, boss? Here I thought she'd done moved in with you."
"Yeah, well, I reckon she got a little confused, is all. Maybe couldn't find her way home, or just forgot who's her daddy. Gettin' paid all that damn money for singin's done gone to her head, I guess."
"You want me to mess her up a little?" The man rubbed his palms together, leering at the dancer as the spotlight followed her offstage. "I mean, nothin' permanent or anything. You know. Just kinda — "
"Maybe. But first, you gotta find out where she went. Then we'll see. Probably better if I tend to her myself; they're like dogs, you know. Only one master. You go slappin' her around, no tellin' what she might think. Shit, she might follow you home. What would you tell your girlfriend?"
"Got any ideas where she might be?"
"No, but I'd start by askin' that damn dyke she's been hangin' around with."
"Her agent?"
"Yeah, that one."
"I don't mind if I do," the man
said. "Waste of a damn woman, that one is. She shore don't look like she needs to play on the other side."
"Can't tell nothin' by lookin' at 'em. Just like all them gay boys that hang out in the gym with you, liftin' weights."
"Hey, boss, c'mon. You ain't sayin' — "
"Don't go takin' that personal, Freddy. I know there's a few of you gym rats that's straight. But don't be such a damn bigot. You ain't ever said nothin' 'bout them boys bein' a waste of a man."
"Well, I ... "
"You gotta change with the times, boy. Some of them dykes spend money in my clubs. That's enough to make me believe in that equal-rights shit. But ain't none of them gay boys ever come in here."
"You can't be too sure, boss. You ever seen what goes on back in the — "
"I don't want to know, Freddy. I'm just messin' with you. Go talk to that Leana woman in the mornin', okay?"
"I can't hardly wait; she's hot. Maybe she just don't know what she's — "
"I said talk, Freddy. You can look, but don't touch."
"Aw, come on, boss. You're takin' all the fun out of it."
"I'm tryin' to keep your worthless ass out of trouble."
"Boss, ain't no way a damn broad gonna be able to mix it up with me. I'd whip her ass six ways to — "
"Word is, she's connected. It ain't her personally you gotta worry about."
"So who's she hooked up with?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. Neither do you. She's a businesswoman. Tell her we got more like Sadie where she come from; make it worth her while."
The burly man's eyes narrowed; he pursed his lips and shook his head. "You think maybe she's ... "
"What, Freddy? Spit it out."
"Don't take this the wrong way, boss, but you don't s'pose she done got Sadie battin' for the other — "
Jonas picked up his napkin and dipped it in his drink, using it to wipe Freddy's blood from his knuckles as he watched the big man pick himself up from the floor and shake his head, blinking his eyes, trying to focus. "Just do it, Freddy. Don't let that alligator mouth of yours overload your Chihuahua brain, okay?"
Storm Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 4th Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers) Page 21