On your left you will see the gothic silhouette of Cross College, complete with library clock and bell tower, admin building, gym, cafeteria, classrooms and other places where middling academic careers go to die.
Just right of that is the president's residence, still reeking of the stink of murder and criminality that was Jack Lindstrom. There's faculty housing right over there, where our own John Pilate shagged Kate Nathaniel into submission, then served her a grilled cheese with Miracle Whip. Classy.
<><><>
Pilate deplaned at Key West International, the sticky, warm sea air tripping olfactory triggers, taking him back to his love for the salty, seedy seduction of island life. Waiting to pick up his bag, Pilate felt his cellphone vibrate in the hip pocket of his Levis.
It was a notification of voice mail. Pilate pressed the phone to his ear and listened.
"Hey, it's a voice from your past. I could use a friend right about now if you have some time. Call me?”
Kay. Kay Righetti.
“Oh, crap,” Simon said.
Two years already. A couple of bad guys had tossed Trevathan's place and Kay was the police officer who took his report. Lovers almost immediately, Kay had helped Pilate with a nasty Bahamian drug ring. For her trouble, she nearly took a bullet and ended up leaving the force—and Key West. He never expected to hear Kay's voice again. There were so many unexpected things these days.
He swallowed hard and hit the "call back" button.
Three rings and then, “Hi."
“Live, not Memorex,” Simon blurted.
John felt a rush of blood to his cheeks. "Hi."
Her voice was as confident as he remembered. Once a cop, always a cop—they instill a sense of authority whether intentional or not. "Word on the street is you're back in Key West every now and then, writing books and hanging out with your captain buddy."
"The word is correct," Pilate said. "I have no street words about you, though. What brings you back?"
"Oh," she cleared her throat. "A little matter with my condo. I never actually sold it. Was renting it to a dude who trashed it, so I'm down here cleaning up and getting it ready to sell. That and a few other loose ends."
"I see," he said.
She was silent a moment.
“Kay? You alright?”
“Mostly,” she said. “I just…”
“What?” He said, stepping away from a portly man trying to reach past him to collect a suitcase off the baggage return.
“Well, I just wish I could see you. Wish you were here in Key West so we could talk about some stuff.”
"You want to get dinner?" he said. "Tonight?"
“When can you book a flight? That would be great," she said, laughing.
“Great? What would be really, really great is you not telling your ex-lover that you’re in town,” Simon interjected. “Especially at this very moment when Taters needs you.”
“No need to,” Pilate said. “I’m in Key West right now.”
“Get out,” she shouted.
“No, seriously,” Pilate said. “I’m hailing a cab right after I get my bag.”
“Holy shit,” Kay said. “You want to meet me at the Green Parrot?”
“Just say when.”
“An hour?”
“John. What the hell are you thinking?” Simon said, his voice growing fainter.
“See you there,” Pilate said.
"Excellent. I can't believe it. So glad," Kay sounded relieved and excited all at once. "You can tell me about your wife and kids," she said. "Green Parrot, seven o'clock." She ended the call.
"Well, I guess that comment makes it pretty clear. There's not going to be any sexy time tonight," Simon said. “That’s a good thing, buddy! You have my blessing now.”
Pilate waved a cab down and the driver to drop him at Trevathan’s place.
He called Taters. No answer.
Must be out on the boat.
“Hey man, it’s me. Flight got in ahead of time. Tailwind. You’ll never believe who called me while I was midair. Kay. She’s back in town. I’m going to meet her for a quick drink or two and then I’ll head your way. We gotta figure all this stuff out.” He ended the call, looking out the window as the tourist Mecca that is Duvall Street rolled into view.
<><><>
Pilate had just enough time to drop his bags, plug in his cell phone to the charger and check out Trevathan's place to ensure it hadn't had any unwanted leaks, visitors or critters in the months since he was last there.
Seeing no problem, he took a quick shower and changed into a black V-neck t-shirt. His workouts at the college gym and running the hills back in Cross had helped him tone up, though he figured the massive consumption of potato juice was holding him back from getting as svelte as he wanted.
“You look fine, man,” Simon said. “Hey, you’re in your forties and still have good hair. That alone is an achievement.”
Pilate brushed his teeth, ran a hand through his good hair and scooped up his keys on the way out the door, walking with speed to the Green Parrot. Halfway there, he realized he had left his phone on the charger.
“Crap,” he said.
“Smooth move, Ex-Lax,” Simon said.
<><><>
"Jeez, John look at you," Kay said, opening her arms wide for a hug when he appeared behind her at the bar. Pilate smiled and embraced her, inhaling her familiar scent and squeezing her firm, athletic arms.
"Yeah. Old man," he said, laughing.
"Not at all," she said, looking him up and down. “Hey, are you working out?"
He nodded. "Yes, after I hung up today I hit the gym. Glad it worked."
She laughed. "Seriously, you look good. Marriage and parenthood agrees with you."
"Thanks, you too. I mean, you look good. Your hair is longer," he said, gently moving a shoulder-length blonde lock from her eyes. She blushed and smiled. "Really great to see you, Kay. You do look good."
She shrugged, her eyes glancing up to the right. "Looks can be deceiving."
"Oh?"
"Life off the force is good for me, I guess," she gestured for him to sit down. "Have a drink."
"If you insist.”
Pilate ordered a Vesper martini, the complexities of which perturbed the bartender, while Kay signaled for another glass of wine.
"What, no gin and tonic?" he said.
She snorted. "As I recall, that's what got us started down the road to adventure last time."
"Lime sucking, some laughs and other things, yes."
"Seems so long ago," she smiled, her blue eyes darker somehow. She held the drink up to toast. "Malbec will keep me from sucking anything. To old friends."
"And to absent friends," Pilate said, clinking his glass to hers.
She nodded, eyeing him over the rim of her glass as she drank. Pilate noted dark circles under her eyes, hastily covered with makeup.
"So, where are you, anyway?"
"I went back to New York for a while, but it was pretty boring. Almost took a job as a deputy constable in my hometown."
Pilate burst into a staccato laugh.
“What's so funny?"
"Oh, you won't believe it,” he said, taking in a mouthful of his drink. “I just wrapped up a brief, eventful tenure as town constable back in Cross."
She slapped his knee. "Get out of here! You? A cop?"
"More like a dogcatcher with delusions of grandeur.”
"Catch any dogs?" she said, turning her barstool to face him.
"You could say that," Pilate said, glancing at her legs s they brushed against his. Her former assignment as a bicycle cop was still evident; muscular and pretty tan sticks, despite living up north for the past year or so.
"John, what?"
"What?"
“You just looked so, I dunno. Sad," she said, crossing her legs.
"Well, it got complicated."
"Dog catching can do that," she said, smiling and signaling the bartender over.
"Yeah, well,
it was more than dog catching, I'm afraid."
"Oh, shit," she said, her eyes on his, steady.
"Yeah," he downed the rest of his martini.
"He'll have another," she told the barkeep, glancing discreetly at her wristwatch. "And can I get a gin and tonic?"
"Uh oh, Jane's gettin' serious," Pilate said.
"Tell me what happened," she said, her blue cop's eyes on his.
Chapter Six: Going Home Again
Heavens, is that a beer can convention? No, folks, we are at the corner of Live Oak and 10th, once home of school shooter Gary Rich—that's Neighborhood Watch Captain Gary Rich to you. Frequent guests of the Cross Township Casual Horror Ride will remember that John Pilate dispatched that weirdo without actually killing him. Pretty cool, huh?
No, John. You shut up.
You don't have to do this.
That's what they all say.
And here we are in downtown Cross Township. There's the VFW, the tavern where Craig Olafson—may he rot in hell—knocked our hero out cold, the café, Cusack's Cross and Cork B&B, and the town constable's office, with more holes in it than a fifty-ton block of Swiss cheese. You don't see that just anywhere, folks! Don't forget, John Pilate was even the town constable there. Technically he still is.
The rain is coming, John. Go home.
<><><>
Within the hour, Kay was up to speed on John's life. She knew about the violence with the "hillbilly mafia" back in Cross, his current legal battle with Frechette and the strain on his marriage.
"Jesus, all we've done is talk about me," Pilate said, finishing his second martini. Kay had barely touched her g and t.
"Oh, well like I said, I'm here to get my affairs in order," she smiled, demurely, running a hand through her hair.
"So, it's like that?"
“You remember I had had a friend, right before I met you. She and I. We were...close."
"So, I ruined you on men forever?” he said, leaning on an elbow and waggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, good god, John," she sighed, a trace of irritation in her exhale.
"Sorry," he sat up straight and gestured with his glass. "These things loosen up my tongue a bit. So, what happened to you and her?"
"Well, she was somebody I knew when I was here on the force,” she said, her eyes down, then back to his. “Dive instructor. Smart and sexy as all get out. We dated for about a year, and then things just sorta fell apart.” She shrugged. “She's a real free spirit, and I guess you know the life of a cop isn't all that free," she took a sip of her neglected drink.
"She had other ideas about what was legal and what wasn't. Wanted me to get on her boat and move to Jamaica. I couldn't. I was devoted to my job and that was that.”
“And that was that?”
“We broke up and she took off for Montego Bay."
"When was this?"
"About two months before you and me."
"Oh," Pilate said. "So I was kind of a..."
"Rebound?" She smiled. "Yeah," her voice softened. "But a wonderful one. A wonderful, messed-up rebound."
"Was I your first...?"
"Man?" she laughed. "Oh god, no."
Embarrassed, Pilate turned to the bartender. He looked bored as he shook another drink.
Kay's hand rested on his forearm. "But you were my best man."
He turned back to her, putting his hand on hers. "I am so sorry for what I put you through."
"What? The drunken sexcapades or nearly getting me shot and massacred by pirates?"
"Well, mostly for the latter,” he said, accepting the martini. “The drunken sexcapades were a bonus.”
She removed her hand and picked up her drink. "To drunken sexcapades."
They clinked glasses.
"Careful, John," Simon said. I'm counting more than one gin.
“I was sorry to hear your friend died,” Kay said a moment later. “it’s sweet you named Peter after him.”
Pilate nodded. “Oh, thanks. He was one crusty son of a bitch, but he understood the most important thing.”
“What?”
“That we’re just passing through,” Pilate said, looking at his drink.
“What’s that mean?” she said.
“Just that we’re all just passing through this life,” Pilate said, softly. “That we have this one shot at things, and that none of it matters and at the same time it’s all that matters.”
She squeezed his arm.
“I guess that’s been bouncing around my head a lot lately,” Pilate said.
“That’s not all,” Simon said.
“What’s up?” Kay said.
He shrugged. “Just restless I guess.”
“Passing through.” Kay nodded. “I get it.”
Pilate smiled at her. “Don’t mind me. I’m good. And I’m not looking for trouble.” He signaled for another drink, avoiding her eyes.
Kay flashed a brief smile, then looked out over the Green Parrot.
"So, you have the condo all wrapped up?" he said, clearing his throat.
"Mostly, but I found out from Tom over at Key West PD that my ex's boat was in hock for unpaid dock fees and crap. She didn't want to mess with it in Jamaica—she had a friend who had a bigger boat waiting for her there, so she had rented it out to some dudes who apparently were about as responsible as the guy who leased my condo. Treated the boat like shit. Ran it ragged. Coasties found it floating out near Dry Tortugas. Not all that far from our little adventure on the high seas.”
“Oh wow, I remember that little piece of real estate,” Pilate said.
She nodded. “Good times. Anyway, there was nobody on board."
"Ghost ship?"
She sniggered. "You are soooo dramatic. Trailer park boat more like it. Probably some pot dealers transferred their stash to another boat and kicked mine loose. Don't know why they didn't scuttle her."
"Maybe they didn't abandon her," Pilate said. "Maybe somebody got to them."
"Could be. Not my problem,” she shrugged. “Coasties found no evidence of foul play, just empty fuel tanks and a few dozen empty beer cans. Tom called me a while back and told me. So, I got the Angry Rose back and spent about a week over at Conch Harbor making her seaworthy."
"The Angry Rose, eh? Cool."
"Long story,” she smiled, but Pilate saw it was closer to a grimace. “Going to give her back."
"Why go to all the trouble? Why not just sell her? Doesn't seem like your friend wants the boat anyway."
"She left it for me because I loved it so much, but I couldn't stand being alone on our boat. I want to give it back to her. I want her to know it's all good, you know?" she said, sipping her drink.
"You looking for anything else?"
Kay shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't. I don't...think so. I feel kind of lost right now, to be honest. I just feel the need to get things straight. I want to put things right with people I care about."
"Well, I'm glad we could see each other while you were doing that."
She glanced at him sideways. "I wanted to make things up to you, too."
"Me? Why?"
"I just never could tell you how I felt. You were in such a messy situation, and I was still bogged down with my feelings for her. I just couldn't commit to telling you how much I cared about you."
"Oh, Kay, come on," he said, waving her away. "You and me? That was all adrenaline and sex."
Her face fell. "Oh, that's all I was? Drunken sexcapades?"
"No, wait, that didn't come out right—"
"No, it's okay, John.” She hopped off her barstool, a tad unsteady. "I get it. I gotta go. I have some stuff to do."
He grasped her arm gently. "Kay, wait, listen—"
She cupped his face in her hand and drew him closer, brushing her lips across his, then pressed in with her tongue.
He put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. She pulled away, her lips breaking contact, her cerulean eyes wet.
"Be good, Johnny," she said, picking u
p her purse.
"Let me walk you," he said, fishing in his pocket for cash to pay the bill.
She shook her head. “I have to go. Bad idea. Ummmm... Take care of yourself. And get home to your family. This place is nothing but trouble for us both.”
“Wait—”
“Just passing through, John. Go home to Kate.” She cocked her head slightly and looked past him. “Funny how you married a Kate after being with a Kay. You have a thing for K-names?" she murmured a mirthless laugh and rushed outside.
"Kay, dammit, wait,” he called after her, turning to throw three twenties on the bar. "Keep the change."
"Sorry, that's not anywhere near enough for this tab, bruh,” the bartender said, shaking his head.
Pilate swore, took out his wallet and found a credit card, slapping it down. "I'll be right back."
He darted out into the street, his eyes scanning for Kay. No sign of her, she had melted into the crowd. He cursed and returned to the Green Parrot, sat back on his stool, signed the slip and downed the martini.
"It's for the best, John," Simon said. "Drunken sexcapades are overrated."
"Shut up.”
“What bruh?” the bartender said.
<><><>
Tipsy, Pilate ran the half mile to Kay's condo. The lights were off and there was no car parked in front. The run had gone a long way towards taking the edge off his drinking, but he was still confused about what just happened with Kay.
Pilate thought a moment about their conversation, how he didn't say what he meant. How maybe he said something insensitive on purpose to keep her at bay.
“No kidding, bruh,” Simon said.
He paced in front of her door a few moments before knocking. She didn't answer.
She must have gone straight to the boat.
Pilate sighed, turned on his heel and started to walk back down the steps when he heard a deliberate clicking noise, the almost unmistakable sound of a semi-automatic pistol chambering a bullet.
"Put your hands up and don't move, asshole," a man's voice rasped.
"No problem."
"Shut up."
Pilate's Rose Page 4