by Bill H Myers
“Good.”
I ended the call.
After waiting a few minutes, I checked the remote admin program on my laptop. It showed Freddie was doing a directory search on the girls' computer, checking to see what files were on it. He searched the downloads, images, email and program data files. After seeing that all the personal information had been deleted, he logged off.
If he logged back in, my program would alert me and start sending photos again. As long as he stayed off the laptop until his meeting with Vincent, things just might work out.
I turned off my computer and headed to bed.
Chapter Forty-Five
The next morning, when I woke, Bob was sitting beside me on the bed with a lizard in his mouth. Dark green, about six inches long, it looked recently deceased. Lizards are quite common in Florida; you see them just about everywhere. But we don't get many inside the motorhome.
When we do, they don't last long because of Bob. He'll hunt them down and play with them until they're all played out. Then he'll bring what's left to me to show what a great hunter he is.
That morning, he was particularly proud of his catch and wanted me to see it. With him sitting on the bed, his mouth with the lizard in it just inches from my head, there was no way for me not to see it.
I reached out and rubbed him on his head. “Good job, Bob. That's a nice lizard you got there. Did you have any trouble catching him?”
He didn't answer. Instead, he jumped off the bed, lizard in mouth, and headed for the kitchen. He knew that as soon as I took care of my morning bathroom duties, the kitchen was where I'd be heading next.
He was still waiting for me when I came in to make breakfast. The lizard was on the floor in front of him. He tapped it gently with his paw, trying to get it to move. No luck. He tapped it again and when it still didn't move, he looked up at me at let out a short meow.
He was saying, “Fix it for me.”
Unfortunately, the lizard was beyond fixing. I gave him the bad news. “Bob, I think he's played out. He's gone to lizard heaven.”
He tapped him again, just to be sure. The lizard didn't move. He was definitely played out. Bob wasn't happy about it. He wanted to play some more.
“Bob, you're just going to have to find another one. Think you can do that?”
He didn't answer. Instead, he just lay down in front of his dead lizard and huffed out a short breath. He was sad.
While he mourned the lizard, I fixed breakfast. Nothing fancy, just cold cereal and toast. Breakfast of champions.
After eating, I got dressed and headed over to the campground office. They'd left me a note saying I needed to be out by eleven. I still had things to take care of in Key West, so I wanted to see if there were any other sites available.
As soon as I walked into the office, the woman behind the counter looked up and said, “Site number seven. Have you enjoyed your stay?”
“Yes ma'am, I have. In fact, I'd like to stay another two days if possible.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, we're booked solid. Everyone's coming in for the weekend. We don't have anything and have ten people on the waiting list. Want me to add your name?”
“Sure, put me on the list. What about other parks nearby? Think any of them have vacancies?”
She shook her head again. “No, not likely. There are only four RV parks in Key West and we all fill up on weekends. Two of the others called me this morning asking if I could take their overflow. We couldn't. There's just nothing available.”
Then she said the words I didn't want to hear.
“If you want a site for tonight, you may have to go to Miami to find one.”
I shook my head. “Sure don't want to do that. You'll call me if something opens up?”
“I will. But don't get your hopes up. We don't get many cancellations on weekends.”
I thanked her and left the office.
Back to the motorhome, I didn't bother going inside. Since I was having to vacate the site, I went ahead and unhooked from shore power and water. I coiled up the cables and hoses, stowed them in the utility compartment and locked it up. Inside, I cranked down the TV antenna, opened all the curtains and let Bob know we were getting ready to leave.
He didn't seem to care. He was busy looking for a lizard to replace the one he'd worn out earlier. But as soon I started the motor, he abandoned his lizard hunt and came up front to join me. He hopped up on the passenger seat, put his front paws on the dash and said, “Murrf,” which I interpreted as, “Let's get this show on the road.”
I carefully guided the motorhome out of my site at Uncle Leo's and headed back to the light at US1. The light was red when we got there, which gave me time to think about which way we should go. I could turn left toward Key West and go to Smather's beach parking lot. I wouldn't be able to camp there overnight but would be able to park during the day while I came up with other options. Or I could turn right, go north on US1 and head to Miami.
When the light turned green, I turned right. I wasn't going to Miami. I was going to the marina where Freddie would be meeting with Vincent. I knew from my previous visit, the parking spaces at the marina were large enough for the motorhome. The lot was designed for people towing boats and the parking lot was wide and had plenty of open space.
I figured I could park on the far side, away from the marina's main building, and I wouldn't be in anyone's way. If a security guard came up and wanted to know what I was doing, I could tell him I was waiting for a friend in a boat, which was partly true.
As it turned out, there were no security guards at the marina. There was a sign that said, “No overnight camping allowed,” but the sign didn't say anything about not parking a camper during the day. I figured I was in the clear.
I scoped out the lot and found a place to park where I'd be out of the way and still have a clear view of the marina store and the picnic tables in front. The tables were in the shade and protected from the elements by an awning, they'd be where Freddie and Vincent would have their meeting.
The forecast had called for rain and the morning's sunny skies were giving way to low clouds. If the weatherman were right, it would be raining within the hour. The rain wouldn't bother me inside the motorhome and I hoped it wouldn't give either Vincent or Freddie a reason not to show up for their meeting.
With the motorhome parked, I lowered all the shades except the one over the window that gave me a view of the picnic tables. I turned on the overhead fan and settled in on the couch. It would be two hours before Freddie was supposed to show up and I used the extra time to try to find a camping site for the night.
Before starting the search, I checked my phone for messages. There were two, one from Kat and one from Lori. I listened to Kat's first.
“Walker, just called to let you know we're all going out on Boris' boat today. If you want to go, give me a call. I'll come get you. Bye.”
I listened to Lori's message next. “Walker, Summer and I are going out on a boat with Buck. You should come with us. It'll be fun. Call me if you need a ride.”
Yeah it would be fun. Kat, Lori, Summer and me on a boat in the Keys. A picnic lunch and a few bottles of wine. It could get real interesting. I hated to miss out, but had other things I had to take care of. Maybe there'd be a next time.
I pulled out my laptop and searched Google for RV parks near Key West. There were only four. I already knew Uncle's was full so didn't bother calling them, but I called the other three. They all told me the same thing. They were full and had a waiting list. As far as they knew, there weren't any empty RV sites anywhere close to Key West.
This was not what I wanted to hear. It meant I wouldn't be sleeping in an RV park tonight. At least not one anywhere near Key West.
Normally, not finding a site at an RV park wouldn't be a problem. My motorhome is fully self-contained. Everything can be powered by the battery bank, propane or on-board generator. I didn't need electric or water hookups. Give me thirty feet of semi level space and I
was good to go.
But I knew better than to just pull over and park for the night. A lot of places have ordinances against that kind of thing. According to Kat, Key West was one of them. I decided to check Google. I started by searching for 'boondocking near Key West'. Several pages showed up in the results. Most advised against overnight parking in the Keys except in RV parks. Several included this warning:
“Key West city ordinances forbid overnight parking on city streets, parks and beaches.
RVs in excess of 20 feet in length or seven feet in width are not permitted to park on city streets. RVs may park in designated parking lots, but not overnight.
Police actively enforce the overnight parking rules and violators are subject to stiff fines, vehicle impounds and expensive towing fees.”
There were several firsthand reports from people who had ignored the warning. All had been caught and paid the price. Usually an expensive tow and high dollar ticket.
Because my motorhome fit the city's description of an oversized vehicle and because it wouldn't be easy to hide, parking on a side street and hoping not to get caught was probably just wishful thinking. But I wasn't going to give up my search nor was I going to drive all the way back to Miami just to find an RV site, so I continued my Google boondocking search.
After scanning about a hundred pages of results, I found one that looked promising. A mention of a place called Pirate's Cove. Hidden down a dirt road, it was just outside Key West city limits and supposedly outside of police jurisdiction.
According to someone who camped there, the place had five primitive campsites. All free, available on a first come, first served basis. The campsites were well hidden, surrounded by tropical palms and close to the water.
It sounded pretty good, at least until I read the part about the dirt road. The posting said the road leading to the sites was narrow, had overhanging trees and would be a problem for tall or wide vehicles. My motorhome was both tall and wide, which meant Pirate's Cove might be hard for me to get into. But it might be my only choice so I entered the coordinates into my GPS and hoped I wouldn't need them.
In the year that I'd owned my motorhome, I'd camped all over the southern United States and had always been able to find a place to spend the night. Most of the time it had been in RV parks. But when those weren't available, I'd camped in casino parking lots, Walmarts, and once in a hospital lot.
When none of the above were available, I'd look for an empty church parking lot. Local police know that itinerant pastors often travel in motorhomes and park at churches overnight. So they rarely bother RVers who are parked in church lots.
If I couldn't get into Pirate's Cove, I'd look for a church lot. The Google Earth satellite view of Key West showed three just outside of city limits. If it came down to it, I'd take a chance and spend the night in one of those.
When I'd spoken to Freddie, I hadn't told him I was living in a motorhome; there was no need for him to know. Because I hadn't told him, he wouldn't suspect anything when saw my motorhome in the marina parking lot. He'd just assume it belonged to someone else.
The marina had free Wi-Fi and I had been able to connect to it. Freddie would be using this same connection when he fired up the laptop he had taken from his daughters. As soon as he turned it on and connected to the internet, my program would notify me and start capturing photos from his webcam.
If all went as planned, I'd soon have photos of Vincent using the computer. But only if both he and Freddie showed up.
Chapter Forty-Six
Freddie arrived an hour before he was supposed to. He came in the same rubber sided boat he'd been in the day before. I figured he'd have a car, but maybe he didn't. Maybe the boat was his only means of transportation. It really didn't matter. What mattered was he showed up.
Like the day before, his boat was stacked high with white cardboard boxes, all with the words “Marine Sat” spelled out in blue. These weren't the same boxes. I'd seen him crush those. These were new. He left them in the boat.
He stepped onto the dock carrying what I presumed was his daughters’ laptop. He looked around then made his way up to the marina store and went inside. Two minutes later, he came out with a cold drink in one hand and the laptop in the other.
He walked over to the nearest picnic table and sat. After taking a couple of sips from his drink, he opened the laptop, turned it on and connected to the internet. As soon as he did, my laptop beeped, telling me he was online and my program was monitoring his activity. Thirty seconds later, it began sending snapshots from his webcam.
For the next ten minutes, Freddie surfed the web. He checked the NOAA marine weather site, Craigslist, eBay and Fox40 Now—the Fox news channel from Jackson Mississippi. After that, he went to YouTube and watched videos.
Five minutes after eleven, almost an hour earlier than scheduled, Vincent showed up. He was driving an older Pontiac minivan that looked like someone had used a can of black spray paint to give it the murdered out look. They hadn't bothered to tape anything off and had sprayed everything except the windshield and headlights. The bumpers, the doors, the side mirrors—all were painted black. Not the kind of car you'd want someone who was dating your daughter to drive up in.
After he parked, Vincent stepped out of the van. About five foot ten, stocky build with straight, black hair down to his shoulders. Wearing a tattered black sport jacket over a white dress shirt. His slick black pants didn't hide the heavy work boots on his feet.
Before walking to the marina, he scanned the parking lot, apparently looking for Freddie. When he saw my motorhome, he stopped and stared at it. I was afraid he somehow knew I was waiting and watching, maybe Freddie gave him a heads-up. But Freddie didn't know I was in a motorhome, and it was unlikely Vincent would know.
Perhaps he was just admiring it, thinking maybe he should get one like it. That happens a lot. Strangers often come up and want to talk about what it's like to have a motorhome. I hoped Vincent wouldn't be so bold.
As it turned out, he wasn't. He hitched up his pants, turned back toward the marina and walked away. Freddie whistled to get his attention. Vincent looked up, saw Freddie and nodded.
He walked over to the table and took a seat across from Freddie. I was too far away to hear what they were saying but wanted to know. Freddie's laptop was still connected to the internet; the program I had installed on it could send me audio through the computer's internal microphone.
I turned it on and started listening.
Freddie's voice came through the clearest.
“Vincent, we got a problem. There's a guy snooping around. He's asking me questions about you.”
“Me? Why is asking about me? I haven't done anything.”
“He thinks it was you who robbed the boat and messed with the hot dog stand.”
Vincent's reply surprised me.
“I didn't do any of that. You did. You're the one who’s been messing with the hot dog stand. You're the one who robbed that boat. I wasn't even in Key West when it was robbed. What makes him think I did it?”
Freddie answered with a lie. “I don't know. But it sounds like he's out to get you. He even thinks you're the one who kidnapped the girls.”
Vincent shook his head. “Now wait a minute. I didn't have anything to do with those girls. They're your daughters. You snatched them from your ex-wife. If he's looking for the girls, he should be looking for you, not me.”
“You're right. He should be looking for me, but he's not. He's looking for you.”
“What about Marine Sat? Does he know what you're doing out there on your boat? Or is he blaming me for that too?”
“He doesn't know anything about that and we sure don't need him finding out. We've got to do something about this guy. For your sake.”
Vincent looked around then leaned in closer to Freddie. This brought him nearer to the computer's microphone and his voice came through loud and clear. “Freddie, you're the boss. Tell me how you plan to deal with him.”
Freddie nodded toward his boat. “I'm going to take him for a ride. Like I did with the other guy. I'll get him in the boat, take him out about twelve miles and see if he can swim back.”
Vincent nodded. “Yeah, that might work. But how you going to get him in the boat?”
Freddie looked around again, checking to see if anyone was listening. “I already got it figured out. The guy is trying to find you, so I'll help him. I'll tell him you're hiding out on Bush Key and the only way to get there is by boat. He'll ask me to take him, and I'll agree.
“Once I get him out in deep water, I'll stop the boat and ask him to help me with the anchor. When he leans over the side, I'll give him a little push. Then I'll leave him there. No way he'll make it back in.”
Vincent thought about Freddie's plan then asked, “You sure you want to do this. Kill another one? What if he's working with someone? Shouldn't you find out before you get rid of him? Maybe your ex-wife hired him. Or maybe the feds figured out what you do out there on your boat.”
Freddie shook his head. “He's not working for my ex. She's still up in Mississippi and there’s no way she could afford to hire someone to look for me. And the feds haven't got a clue. Like I said, the guy's looking for you, not me.”
Vincent didn't seem convinced. “I don't know why he wants me. That don't seem right at all. You're the one he should be looking for.”
Freddie smiled. “Vincent, I can't help it if he's looking for the wrong guy. I thought I was doing you a favor by telling you about him. But if you want me to let him keep looking for you, I can. Just say the word.”
Vincent shook his head. “I know better than that. You're not going to let this guy go. You're going to get rid of him. So when you going to do it?”
Freddie turned to look at his boat then turned back to Vincent. “I can't do it today. Got deliveries to make. But tomorrow I got nothing. I'll get him down here in the morning, before it gets too hot. You want to join us?”
Vincent shook his head. “No, I'm not going out on that boat with you. Afraid I won't make it back.”