But when I approached, all conversation immediately ceased and everyone turned to smile at me like I was the prettiest girl at the dance. Somehow, by no means of my own, it seemed, I had become a bit of a BMOC around the Seacoast Majestic. At thirty-five years old, I wasn’t exactly a spring chicken, but Al’s buddies, who had been all around when dirt was invented, were a little jealous. They wanted to be young and carefree again, but their hip replacements, osteoporosis, and sagging moobs wouldn’t let them. Which was why they enjoyed living vicariously through tales of the many women I’d dated and stories about things I’d seen as a rookie cop when I’d worked for the Kansas City PD back in the States. But it was the stories about how I’d saved Artie, my ex, and Al’s finger that made for the majority of repeated bedtime stories.
“Heya, Drunk,” said Gary, a full-time resident who lived in the cottages down by Al. Gary was a tall, thick man with a receding hairline and a potbelly. He accentuated his rotundness by tucking his polo shirts tightly into his denim shorts. Today his polo of choice was salmon-colored. There were only three things in life Gary liked to talk about: his 1978 FJ40, his annoying little ankle biter, Skully, and his former life in the military and then as a security guard at the Mall of America. He bent over, clubbed a ball through a hole beneath a windmill, and then looked up at me again. “How’s security?”
“Tight as always, Gary,” I said, giving him a little salute. Maybe it was a corny ritual, but it always made Gary smile and salute me back.
“It’s a hot one, eh, Drunk?” said Big Eddie, his moniker being a misnomer of course. In reality, he was a shriveled-up old man with thin bird legs, a former computer geek who struck it rich working for Dell in their glory days. Big Eddie had skin the color of new-fallen Missouri snow, which was hard to believe considering he’d lived full-time at the Caribbean resort for the last two years. He wore a button-down white linen shirt with a pocket protector. He was the guy that always carried two mechanical pencils in that pocket, a palm-size steno pad, and his black browline reading glasses. Today he wore a sun visor pulled down low over his face, and I could tell that he wore sunscreen on his arms and the back of his neck because the white cream was still visible on his skin and he smelled of coconut and zinc oxide.
“It’s always a hot one, Eddie. We live on a Caribbean island,” I said, looking up at the sun through my knock-off Ray-Bans.
“Seems hotter than usual is all,” he said, shuffling over to take his turn hitting the little ball.
“That’s because you’re actually standing in the sun today. What happened to cards?”
“The rest of the guys had other stuff to do this morning. No point in playing if I can only take their money,” said Al, nodding his head towards his buddies.
Ralph the Weasel, a tall black man with fuzzy white hair, a flat nose, and an uncanny resemblance to Morgan Freeman, smiled at Al. “Speaking of money, I’ll be taking your money after this shot.” He gave the ball a whack, sending it through a hole beneath a plywood monkey’s ass. His hands went up into the air. Victory. “That’ll be fifty cents each, fellas. Pay up.”
I shook my head. Oldies amazed me. “You know, I can’t decide if I’m looking forward to the day when I have nothing better to do than to bet fifty cents on the outcome of a miniature golf game or if I’d rather kill myself if that day ever comes to fruition.”
Al pointed at me. “Don’t knock it, kid. There’s something to be said about a relaxing game of golf.”
“Alright, well, when you’re done playing put the ball in the clown’s mouth, I got a case I thought you might wanna help me with.”
Al’s head snapped up then, his eyes bright and hopeful. “Some kind of mystery to solve?”
I shrugged. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a mystery, but if it made Al look cool in front of his friends, I could play along. “Something like that.”
His once-bright eyes narrowed to pinpricks. “This isn’t just your way of getting me to ride along in the banana boat, is it? I’m not in the mood to pick up more hookers.”
Gary, Big Ed, and the Weaz all looked up at Al with interest.
“Al! What’s Evie got to say about you picking up hookers?” asked Gary.
“Hey, don’t look at me.” Al pointed a gnarled finger in my direction. “It was all Drunk. I was just there for moral support.” He shook his head. “Supporting the kid’s morals is a full-time job, you know.”
I stared at Al. “Shit, Al. Listen to what you’re saying. This is how rumors get started. I’m trying to clean up my image around here.” I lifted my hat to run a hand through my damp hair. I put the hat back on and let out a heavy sigh. “Look, guys. We didn’t pick up any hookers, alright? Al’s full of shit.”
“What’s the matter, Drunk? Hooker shoot you down?” asked the Weaz with a bright-eyed chuckle.
I frowned. “Anyone ever tell you guys you’re assholes?”
“Only every day,” said the Weaz.
“Hey, Drunk, next time you and Al pick up hookers, you should bring us along,” said Gary with a straight face.
I started to walk away, swatting a hand backwards over my head. “Alright. Alright. You fellas have fun playin’ with your balls. I’m outta here.” I took long strides towards the golf cart that I’d borrowed to give me a ride down to the pool.
Seconds later, I heard my name behind me.
“Jeez, kid, I don’t have legs that long. Slow up.”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder to see Al hobbling as fast as he could towards me. “Look, Al, never mind. I’ll handle this on my own.”
“What’s the matter? You can’t take a little shit anymore?”
“I can take plenty. I’m just tired. I was up late. There’s a sixteen-year-old kid missing. A girl. I was asked to help find her.”
Al’s face sobered up then. “Oh. You really do have a case to solve? Well, why didn’t you just say so? I wanna help.”
“Alright, but you need to give this hooker shit a rest.”
Al nodded his head. “Alright. Alright. I’ll let it go. So what’s the story?”
I pointed at the golf cart. “Get in. I’ll tell you everything on the way.”
9
“So, lemme get this straight. You haven’t told Mariposa that her daughter’s best friend since childhood is missing?” asked Al as we drove my new-to-me Wrangler off the resort property and towards town. Finally having my own wheels on the island felt good, and it was especially nice not having to ask Artie to borrow a vehicle.
With one elbow resting out the window, I glanced over at Al. He seemed smaller than usual, seated in the passenger’s seat of my new ride. The seat dwarfed him, reminding me a little of Edith Ann, a show I remembered my mom watching when I was a kid.
“No. Giselle asked me not to tell. So, that means you can’t tell either.”
Al shook his head. “I don’t know, Drunk. I’m not very good at holding in secrets.”
“You’re not very good at holding gas in either, but should that keep you from trying?”
Al frowned. “I’m serious, kid. I can’t not tell this to Evie. I tell her everything.”
“Did you tell her that you met a hooker last weekend?”
Al’s mouth snapped shut. With his weathered old lips pressed together, he gave me a stinky side-eye.
I gave him an exclamatory nod. “I didn’t think so.”
“That was different, kid.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said with a chuckle. “But whatever. You can tell Evie, but she can’t tell Mariposa. Once we find Jordan safe and sound, then maybe Mari can know. Until then, mum’s the word. Okay?”
Al nodded. “Alright.” He looked out the window. “So where are we going to start looking for this girl?”
“Giselle gave me the address to her aunt’s apartment. I think we’ll start there. I also put a call into Lola over at the airport. She’s checking the manifests for me to see if Jordan flew off the island. Hopefully I’ll hear back from her soon.”
>
“So do you think she just ran off?”
I shrugged. “I have a feeling Lola’s going to call me back, and we’ll see she went to find her aunt in the US.”
“So you think she’s alright?”
“We really have no reason to think otherwise. But we’ll check out her apartment and see if we can’t pick up her scent.”
* * *
Jordan Lambert lived in an apartment building just two blocks away from where Camila Vergado lived. Camila had been the witness to a murder months prior. Her place had been in a not-so-great part of town, and Jordan’s neighborhood wasn’t much better. Her apartment building was a pale yellow two-story rectangular box. Green shutters flanked every window, and each second-floor apartment had sliding glass doors that opened to a small balcony with a white railing. Outside, an iron fence ran around the perimeter of the property, and two newly planted palm trees stood out front like sentinels.
“Giselle said Jordan’s apartment is in the back. She said she always got in through the balcony door. I’ll run around back and see if I can’t get in that way. Meet me in the hallway upstairs and I’ll let you in.”
Al nodded. “Be careful, kid.”
I slipped around the back of the building and found the picnic table Giselle had spoken of beneath one of the balcony windows. My eyes scanned the backyard, hoping no one was looking out their windows as I climbed on top of the table and scaled the balcony. The sliding glass balcony door didn’t even pretend to offer resistance, instead sliding open easily.
As if she’d been expecting my arrival, Gabby greeted me immediately. “Meow.” The orange tabby cat rubbed her fur up against my legs as if she were starved for attention. I reached down and scooped her up. “Well, hello, beautiful. Are you lonesome?” Scratching her behind her ears immediately kick-started her internal purring mechanism. With her cradled in my arms, I walked to the door and poked my head out into the hallway.
Al stood at the opposite end of the staircase with his arms pinned behind his back.
“Al! Over here.” I waved at him with my free arm.
When we were both inside Jordan’s apartment with the door closed, I handed Gabby to Al. “This is Gabby. She needs some attention.”
He frowned. “Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Take her out for a drink. Buy her some flowers. Tell her she smells nice.”
Al looked at down at the cat uncomfortably.
“For fuck’s sake, Al. It’s a cat. She just wants to you to pet her.”
“Oh.” Al patted the top of the cat’s head like it was a basketball and he was just learning to dribble.
“Not like that,” I said, heavily exasperated. “Like this.” I scooped Gabby back up and snuggled her closely, scratching her under her chin. “Haven’t you ever had a cat before?”
“The girls had cats. When they were little. I was never much of a cat person, though.”
I could tell. I sighed. “Fine. I’ll hold the cat. You snoop around.”
“Where should I start?”
I nodded towards some papers on the kitchen counter. “Why don’t you go through those? I’m gonna go look through her bedroom.”
“What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know. Anything that might explain where she went or why.” Gabby and I went down the hallway. I poked my head in the first doorway on my left. It was a small bathroom. It was obvious that women lived here. Makeup and hair products covered the small white vanity. Dirty clothes littered the floor. A towel was slung over the shower rod. I put up a hand to feel it. Dry as a bone.
I went back into the hallway. Across the hall was a bedroom. The bed was made up with a blue floral quilt. There was a lamp on the nightstand and an alarm clock. I pulled open the top drawer to see a Bible and a flashlight. The closet had lots of empty hangers. I was fairly confident I’d discovered the aunt’s room.
Back in the hallway again, I went to the end of the hallway and took a left. It was the smaller of the two rooms and most definitely Jordan’s. Clothes were strewn everywhere. There were posters and photographs on the wall. A partially eaten bowl of cat food was near the bed with a little bowl of water next to it. I put Gabby on the floor and refilled the cat food bowl from the container next to it. Then I began to poke through Jordan’s stuff.
If taken out of context, one might have thought the messy scene before me was due to a burglar ransacking the place, but based on the messy bathroom and the aunt’s clean bedroom, I had a feeling this was just Jordan’s normal way of doing things. I picked up a long red plastic backscratcher lying next to her bed and began to poke at her clothing, turning things over, unsure of what I was looking for but hoping I’d find it. But everywhere I looked, I only discovered a floor at the bottom of the pile.
When digging through her clothes didn’t pan out, I went to her nightstand and opened the top drawer, thinking maybe I’d luck out and find a diary or a note of some sort. But to no avail. I only found a stack of Cosmopolitan and Vogue magazines. I flipped through each one quickly, but no notes materialized. The second drawer wasn’t any better. It was stuffed full of underwear. And the bottom drawer was stuffed full of bras.
Her dresser was completely covered with makeup, a blow dryer, and other girl hair necessities. I looked up and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My sunglasses clung to the brim of my hat. I combed the hair around my chin with my fingers. My beard had gotten so thick that it was starting to get hot, but it was almost at the end of its growing cycle. Soon I’d cut it and start all over again.
My attention traveled to the perimeter of Jordan’s mirror. Pictures covered every inch of it, like a frame. There were pictures of Jordan with Gabby. Jordan with Giselle. Jordan with an older woman that I had to assume was her aunt. Jordan with other girlfriends. In every picture, Jordan smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. I couldn’t help but wonder why a girl who seemed so carefree would run off without so much as a word to her best friend.
On the right side of the dresser was a small blue jewelry box. I opened the lid to find it jam-packed with rings and earrings. I moved it slightly and noticed a slip of folded paper tucked beneath it. I pulled it out and unfolded it. It was an invitation. You are invited to a private party at Club Cobalt. Saturday. After 10 p.m. I stuck it in my pocket and kept looking.
Al stuck his head in the room then. “Hey, Drunk, come here. You should see this.”
“Yeah, okay.” Gabby purred at my ankles again. I bent down, picked her up, and headed for the kitchen. “What’d you find?”
Al had opened bills spread across the counter. “They’re behind on everything. Their utilities. Their cellular phone bill. There’s even an eviction notice here for their apartment.”
“Huh.” I stared down at the large overdue balances.
“Maybe Jordan decided to leave before she could be evicted.”
“Maybe. That might explain why she didn’t say anything to Giselle. Maybe she was embarrassed,” I said, nodding. “But you’d think she’d take her cat. Or at least find her a good home.”
“Did you find anything?” asked Al, shuffling sideways to look at me.
“Not really. I found an invitation to a party at a club in the District. I don’t know if that’s anything, but we can check it out.”
“So what should we do about the cat?” asked Al.
“We’ll leave her here. I’m sure now that Giselle knows Jordan’s not feeding her, she’ll come over and take care of her.”
My phone rang. “Drunk here.”
“Hi, Drunk, it’s Lola at Paradise International.”
I set Gabby on the counter and leaned a hip up against it. “Of course it is. I’d recognize that beautiful voice anywhere.”
Al rolled his eyes and scooted towards the door. “I’ll be in the banana boat.”
I waved Al on as I heard Lola giggle. She was definitely someone I wanted to take out one of these days. “So do you have anything for me
?”
“I looked up that name you asked me to, Jordan Lambert. I couldn’t find anyone by that name flying in or out. At least not in the last two weeks. Do you want me to check further back than that?”
I frowned and let out a little sigh. “No, that’s fine.”
“Sorry, Drunk. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just a customer trying to skip out on their tab. I’ll figure it out. Thanks a lot for checking. I owe you one. How about I take you out for a drink sometime?”
“Sure. I’d like that. When?”
“I’ll give you a call when I get this whole thing I’m working on resolved. How about that?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Take care, Drunk.”
“You too, Lola.”
Now that I had a date with the lovely Lola planned for when I found Jordan Lambert, I was more determined than ever to find the girl.
I gave Gabby another quick scratch, locked the front door, and pulled it shut behind me. So Jordan hadn’t left the island. Now I was really curious as to where she was hiding.
Back in the vehicle, Al looked over at me. “So? Did Jordan leave the island?”
I put the Jeep in drive. “If she did, it wasn’t on an airplane.”
“So now what?”
“Now? Now I think it’s time to pay Frankie a little visit. What do you think?”
Al turned and looked at me suspiciously. “Fine, but just remember, kid, this is for business, not pleasure.”
I grinned at him. “Are you kidding? Where Frankie’s concerned, you can’t have one without the other.”
10
Drunk Driving Page 5