“I just love it,” Lindsey said from the balcony.
Cherise took her cue. “I agree the place is quite nice. And I’d love to buy it for you, honey. But I do have concerns.” She turned to Carla. “Do you know anything about the neighbors? We do enjoy our privacy.”
“The couple in 607 are rarely here. From what I’ve been told, he owns a bunch of oil wells in Texas and uses the condo for a vacation home. There’s an older couple in 609, both retired.”
“How about above us. 708 and 709. Do you know anything about them?”
“I don’t. Sorry. But if you are truly concerned, the manager might be able to answer your questions better than me.” Carla made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “So what do you think?”
“Linds?” Cherise asked.
Her smile looked convincing. “I want it.”
Cherise turned to Carla. “Looks like we’ll be making an offer. But I’d like to talk to the manager, first. I still have concerns.”
CHAPTER 30
Cherise stood a half step back from Bob Whirling’s door and waited while Carla pressed the buzzer.
“I’ve met Mr. Whirling a few times,” she said. “He’s always been very helpful.”
“That’s good to hear.” Cherise suppressed a smile.
I can only hope.
True or not, she had nothing to lose by talking to the manager, except a few more minutes of playing her and Lindsey’s charade in anticipation of extracting worthwhile information from him.
Amanda and Corey. Brother and sister. He should know plenty.
It all depended on his willingness to be candid about his tenants.
“Is Mr. Whirling married?” she asked.
“Divorced,” Carla answered a second before the door opened.
He looked to be about forty-five. Fit. And on the handsome side. That she and Lindsey were pretty, would help. So would the outfits. Providing his ex-wife hadn’t castrated him in their divorce. His extra-wide smile and roving eyes indicated she hadn’t.
Cherise wanted to laugh. Five minutes alone with this fuckwad and he’d tell her everything she wanted to know about Amanda and Corey. Even stuff she didn’t care about knowing. But she’d play nice until it was time not to.
“I apologize for dropping by like this,” Carla said. “This is Cherise and her friend Lindsey. They’re interested in unit 608 and have some questions they’d like to ask you. If that’s all right.”
“Of course.” His smile seemed to broaden to the point his face would split in half. He stepped to the side and opened the door wide. “Please come in. Can I get you ladies something to drink?”
Cherise felt like a lamb being led into the wolf’s den.
If they only knew.
“Nothing for us, thank you.” She answered for her and Lindsey, keeping up pretenses.
“Water for me,” Carla said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” He made a sweeping gesture toward his small sofa. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll only be a moment.”
Cherise led Lindsey to the settee and Carla settled into one of two matching padded armchairs.
“You have questions?” Bob directed the question to Cherise who was still standing when he returned with Carla’s water. He had one for himself. “Ask away.”
“As Carla explained,” Cherise said, as he settled into the other chair and she took a seat next to Lindsey. “My partner and I are extremely interested in unit 608. Our concern is what kind of neighbors we’ll have. We’ve had problems in the past and don’t want them repeated.”
“I assure you, all our residents are well behaved. And I can definitely guarantee that your neighbors in 607 and 609 will not cause you any problems.”
He clearly wasn’t going to offer the information she wanted.
“And the people living above and below us?” she prodded. “Sound carries through floors. I certainly wouldn’t want to be disturbed by loud music or television or a lot of stomping around. We enjoy our quiet.”
“Corey, the gentleman above, is single. A television star. But I’ve never received any complaints. As far as I know, he doesn’t spend a lot of time there. His sister lives next door.”
Nothing she didn’t already know. “What can you tell me about his sister?”
He shrugged. “She’s an accountant. Single, pretty, and always extremely nice to me. From what she’s told me, she specializes in saving failed companies. Quite a reputation, according to her.”
“Does she have a lot of male visitors?”
He gave her an odd look. “And why would that concern you? I told you she’s a nice person.”
And you told me way more than you should have.
Cherise feared she may have probed too deeply into a personal side of Amanda he didn’t want to divulge. He had made a special point of saying she was pretty. Maybe he secretly admired her. A romance conjured up in his mind, growing, waiting for that special moment when he felt he could finally reveal his affection for her.
“I believe you.” She thought quickly, and added, “It’s just that I had a young lady for a neighbor once. Lovely in every way. She always had something pleasant to say to me. But she also had a different man over every week. Sometimes two or three. Therein lay the problem. She was—to put it delicately—extremely overenthusiastic in her sexual encounters with her male visitors.”
His tan reddened. “Amanda’s not like that. When she’s at home, she uses the gym and the pool. Otherwise, she stays pretty much to herself. I think her work keeps her busy.”
“How about her brother. Does he have much of a social life?”
“You’re referring, of course, to women visitors?”
Cherise smiled, letting the question hang.
“Occasionally.” Bob shifted nervously in his chair. “But like I said, he travels a lot. Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink? It’s no problem for me to mix us up a rum punch if you’d care to stick around.”
“Actually, I’d like to meet Amanda and Corey if that’s possible.”
She noticed his shoulders slump, and resisted a smile.
“Amanda, maybe,” he said. “But Corey is on location at a lake in Alabama filming a commercial. He’s not due back for a couple of days. If you like, I’d be happy to give her a call and tell her you’re dropping by.”
Cherise stood. Lindsey followed her lead. “That would be wonderful.”
CHAPTER 31
Cherise didn’t know what to expect. But she definitely didn’t like having Carla Simmons tagging along. Even so, there would be no getting rid of her. Not with the scent of a huge commission hanging in the air.
To get to Amanda’s unit, they had to walk past Corey Jameson’s place. Cherise couldn’t help wonder what lay beyond his door. If their hunch about what he and his sister were up to, would play out? If she kicked the door in right now, would she find those crude gold figurines hidden there? Chances were he had already fenced them to a collector. Or someone like Harvey Bristol.
Amanda could tell her. But not without some serious convincing. The best way would be to pick the lock and search his place.
She held on to that thought and pressed the buzzer to unit 709.
The woman who answered the door stood tall enough to look her straight in the eyes. Six feet, at least. Her dishwater blonde hair looked darker in person. And with little or no makeup, she wasn’t as striking as she appeared in the photos Susan had sent.
But quite pretty all the same.
Slightly taken aback by the woman’s height, she said, “My name is Cherise Venetta and this is my friend Lindsey. Are you Amanda?”
“The couple the manager told me about?”
Cherise swept her hand toward Carla. “This is Ms. Simmons, our realtor. She showed us a place for sale on the floor below you and we wanted to meet our upstairs neighbor.”
Carla wasted no time handing her a card.
A nice touch.
Amanda glanced
at it and said, “How very nice of you. Please come in.”
Cherise’s first impression of Amanda as she invited them into her living room was not that of a femme fatale. Beyond the woman’s obvious beauty, she did not appear to possess the mysterious, seductive charms that would lure unsuspecting men into compromising and deadly situations. Though her hands and fingers were shapely, the nails were manicured short. Those of a working girl. She wore no visible jewelry, very little makeup beyond a pale lipstick, and dressed in clothing that did nothing to flatter her voluptuous figure. Her decor was tasteful but not over the top. Comfortable more than elegant.
Certainly not what Cherise expected.
“Please have a seat.” Amanda motioned toward a cushioned sofa and two facing padded armchairs. A furniture arrangement similar to the one they’d just left. “I was surprised to get a call from the manager informing me you were on your way up and wanted to meet me.”
“He seems like a nice man.” Cherise noticed Amanda referred to Bob Whirling as ‘the manager’ instead of by name. “As I said earlier, Linds and I are considering making an offer on the unit below you and your brother. We enjoy a quiet lifestyle and wanted to meet our potential neighbors before making a final decision.”
“I suppose that’s wise.” Amanda motioned again. “Please sit.”
“Yes, of course.”
Cherise led Lindsey to the sofa. Carla and Amanda settled into the armchairs. Cherise noticed Amanda still hadn’t acknowledged Lindsey or Carla. A lack in social skills?
She wondered.
“I’m glad you dropped in. Too bad Corey isn’t home. You and your friend could have met us both.”
“We were told he was away.”
Amanda furrowed her brow as though they had missed something. “Mr. Whirling didn’t tell you my brother is Corey Jameson, the actor?”
Finally, his name.
“Actually, he did mention it. What kind of acting does your brother do?”
“He had his own fishing series until a couple of years ago. Now he advertises fishing and sports equipment. That’s why he’s not home now.”
Cherise detected a hint of loneliness in Amanda’s voice. A social void created by her brother’s absence, possibly. “You sound as though you don’t have a lot of visitors?”
Amanda’s lips curled into a shy smile. “Not many.”
“According to Mr. Whirling, you travel a lot.”
“On jobs mostly. Sometimes for a month or more. I’m sure he told you I’m an independent chartered accountant.”
“I find your work quite interesting,” Carla said as though she didn’t like being excluded from the conversation. “Mr. Whirling thinks highly of you.”
“That’s nice of him.” Amanda’s smile returned, more confident this time.
Cherise couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t talking to the woman who had lured Lindsey’s father to his death. Yet, she was undeniably the person sitting next to him at the Captain’s table. And she had been identified as being with him at the museum in Key West.
She heard her phone vibrate twice inside her purse. A text.
Ignoring the message for now, she said, “Mr. Whirling also mentioned your brother is away a lot.”
“Much of his advertising work is done on location. That’s why he’s not home now.”
Cherise felt she had gotten about as much as she was going to get, and decided it was time to ask the all-important question she’d been avoiding. Contrary to what she wanted Amanda to believe, she wasn’t there to make friends.
“That sounds interesting,” she said. “Does he ever find time to vacation abroad, take cruises, that sort of thing?”
She noticed a flicker behind Amanda’s blue eyes, a fraction of a second delay in responding. “What concern is that of yours?”
“Just curious,” Cherise said. “The way Mr. Whirling made it sound, your brother’s rarely home. I’m sure his work keeps him busy, but I can’t imagine him traveling that much filming commercials.”
“Mr. Whirling had no right to infer anything. And you have no right to speculate on anything he said.”
“You’re right, Ms. Kelly. Pardon my pretentiousness.”
“Seriously, Ms. Venetta?” Amanda stood and peered down at her. “I found your question quite rude. Now, I’d like you to leave before this goes any further. If we’re going to be neighbors, I really don’t want us to start off on the wrong foot.”
“I assure you, neither do I.”
Cherise got up and Lindsey followed. Carla had a stricken look on her face. Clearly, she feared the imminent sale had spiraled downward in serious jeopardy.
Amanda let them out and eased the door closed.
“She seems nice,” Carla said, when they were in the hallway.
Damage control.
“I appreciate your position,” Cherise said. “I’d like to meet Corey before I give you my decision.”
CHAPTER 32
Jack wanted to stop walking and read what had been written on the folded, yellowed piece of paper concealed in his pocket. Most people who travel to Key West go home with t-shirts, shell ashtrays, or even a metal token stamped to look like a seventeenth-century Spanish coin from the Atocha.
He would be going home with a boat, and hopefully the discovery of a lifetime.
To Robert, he said, “I think we’ll be spending our nights aboard Adeona. We can stop at the market and pick up enough supplies to keep us going while we sort out this riddle.”
Robert stopped him with a hand on his arm. “First, I want to see what’s on that piece of paper. This is one hell of a coincidence.”
“You got that right.”
Jack gave in to his own curious urge. He dug the yellowed paper from his pocket, unfolded the note, and held the message so they could both read it.
Papa bought Pilar when he lived in Key West. It was from Pilar’s deck that he began his pursuit of the big fish that, with the help of my grandfather, became the subject of his last great novel. So it is only right that this photo belongs in the bar he spent so much time in. As does so much more.
“You know I don’t believe in coincidences.” Jack refolded the note and slipped it into his pocket. “But I have to say, there’s no other explanation.”
“I have to agree,” Robert said. “There’s no way that bar fight could’ve been staged. Or that you’d end up knocking that picture off the wall and find the note. Let’s get our things from the hotel and the supplies we need and sort this out over a cold one.”
Jack nodded. “Good idea.”
* * *
Below decks, the Adeona was hot and stale and damp. It had taken the entire prior evening to cool the interior and dry out the dampness, and Jack wished he had thought to leave the air conditioner on with the thermostat set at a reasonable seventy-eight to keep out the day’s heat and humidity.
He started the generator and reset the thermostat to sixty-five. It would be an hour before the temp inside was comfortable.
While the air conditioner struggled to cool the forward salon, they stowed their food. Then each of them carried their gear down to the staterooms they’d stayed in the night before. Jack put his things away, checked on the first-edition copy of The Old Man and the Sea, and met back up with Robert in the galley.
“Ready for that beer?” Jack asked.
“Beyond ready.” Robert opened a couple of Red Stripes and handed one to Jack.
“He was a wise man who invented beer,” Jack said. He tapped his bottle against Robert’s and toasted, “To us and a successful treasure hunt.”
They took a gulp and carried their bottles aft to folding chairs sitting in the shade under the upper sundeck. The temp outside was still warm but a reasonable on-shore breeze cooled the air enough to make sitting there bearable.
The cold brew helped.
“You’re the brain,” Jack said. “What do you think?”
Robert took a moment before answering. “Hemingway moved here in 1928. H
e and his wife Paulina lived in an apartment on Simonton Street before moving into the two-story house on Whitehead three years later where they lived until 1938, when the Hemingway’s moved to Cuba. His close friend, Charles Thomson, is the person who introduced him to sport fishing. The waters off the Florida Keys and the nearby Caribbean being his favorite places to fish.”
Jack tapped his foot. He almost regretted asking Robert for his thoughts on the matter, knowing his propensity for detail—understanding the cause as well as the effect. At times, it could be exasperating waiting for him to get to the point.
He said, “I assume you’re going somewhere with this history lesson?”
Robert sighed. “It’s important we explore every detail.”
Jack understood the logic in his friend’s response. But it didn’t make it any less irritating.
“Sorry,” he said. “Finish your thought.”
Robert swigged his beer and continued, “Hemingway and some of his best friends were known in Key West as the Mob. They spent a lot of time together fishing for marlin and tuna from the deck of Pilar. This is also when Hemingway got the nickname, Papa. In addition to fishing, Hemingway and the rest of the Mob spent considerable time drinking in the Silver Slipper, a saloon owned by his good friend Joe Russell. It was Hemingway’s urging that prompted Russell to change the name of the bar to Sloppy Joe’s.”
The tide change swung the stern toward shore, sparing them the glare from the sun that had dipped low in the sky. Jack planted his elbows on his knees and stared at the bottle he’d emptied while listening to Robert.
Robert continued, “In 1962, a year after Hemingway’s death, his fourth wife Mary traveled to Key West and took possession of a pile of boxes he had left in a back storeroom at Sloppy Joe’s bar. It almost makes sense Rafael Fuentes would hide them there.”
Makes sense.
Jack stood. “I’m getting us another beer.”
Robert handed his bottle to Jack and said, “We’ve been chasing longshots. What’s one more?”
Hostile Waters Page 11
