Deadly Moves

by Rodney Riesel

  Deadly Moves

  From the Tales of Dan Coast

  Deadly Moves

  From the Tales of Dan Coast

  By

  Rodney Riesel

  Published by Island Holiday Publishing

  East Greenbush, NY

  Copyright © 2016 Rodney Riesel

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 978-0-9971149-4-2

  First Edition

  Special thanks to:

  Pamela Guerriere

  Kevin Cook

  Cover Design & Maps by:

  Connie Fitsik

  Cover Photo Copyright:

  www.123rf.com/profile_chaoss'>chaoss /123RF Stock Photo

  To learn about my other books friend me at

  https://www.facebook.com/rodneyriesel

  For Brenda,

  Kayleigh, Ethan

  & Peyton

  Chapter One

  Dan Coast sat at one of the round four tops at Red's Bar and Grill. Across from him sat Ryan Jenkins. To Dan's right was the front door; Mel Gormin was sitting on his left.

  Mel had recently grown a mustache in emulation of his current TV hero, Thomas Magnum, and was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt and faded blue jeans. Hanging around his neck by a thin piece of yarn was his aluminum foil-covered cardboard badge; a Detroit Tigers baseball cap decorated his head.

  The jukebox was quietly playing “Chicken Fried” by the Zac Brown Band. It was three in the afternoon and the last of the lunch crowd had just walked out the door.

  “I didn't know you had a partner, Coast,” Jenkins said. Half a bottle of Landshark lager sat on the table in front of him.

  Dan glanced over at Mel and then back at Jenkins. “I don't have a partner. He's just a friend.”

  “Best friends,” Mel corrected. “When he has a tough case he usually asks for my help.”

  “Was my case a tough one?” Jenkins asked.

  “No,” Dan responded.

  “So what did you find out?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No. There's no evidence at all that your wife is cheating on you. I followed her every day for three weeks, Jenkins. Three mornings a week she goes to the gym. A couple mornings a week she runs and does yoga in the back yard while she listens to some godawful hip-hop music.”

  “She has a fantastic body,” Mel said matter-of-factly.

  “Thank you,” said Jenkins.

  “I followed her to the grocery store a few times,” Dan said. “I wandered around Kmart a few times, too. I never even saw her speak to another man. Even at her tennis lesson, her instructor never touched her. She never did one thing even remotely suspicious. I don't know what you were so worried about.”

  Jenkins slumped back in his chair and sipped his beer. “Huh.”

  “You sound almost disappointed,” Dan observed.

  “Yeah, well, what are ya gonna do?” said Jenkins. He grabbed his beer by the neck and took a quick swig. Some suds leaked out from the corners of his mouth; he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

  “Her not cheating on you is a good thing, Jenkins,” Dan reminded him.

  “Not in my case.”

  “Okay, what’s going on here?” Dan asked. “I tell you your wife is faithful and you look like you just got the worst news ever.”

  “I want out of this marriage, Coast. We signed a prenup. If I divorce her she gets half of everything … unless she's unfaithful, then she gets nothing.”

  “Can I get you guys another drink?” Red called out from behind the bar. He was polishing glasses and stacking them on a shelf behind the bar.

  “I'll have an Old Dusseldorf in a longneck,” Mel said.

  “He'll have a water,” Dan corrected.

  Mel shot him a dirty look.

  “So you were hoping I would find out she was having an affair.” Dan surmised.

  “Of course. What am I gonna do now?” Jenkins asked.

  “If you would like, I can sleep with your wife,” Mel offered. “It would solve your problem.”

  Jenkins seemed intrigued. “How would you go about that?” he asked.

  “Oh, don't worry, the ladies love me. I could have her in the sack within three day, tops. One if she has daddy issues.”

  Jenkins cocked his head. “That might just be crazy enough to work.”

  “No, it wouldn't!” Dan shouted. “You're not going to pay me to have Mel sleep with your wife. That would make me his pimp, for Chrissakes.”

  “You're right, it's probably a stupid idea,” Jenkins agreed. “I'll just give the money to Mel, directly.”

  “There's no probably about it,” Dan explained. “It is a stupid idea. Maybe you should look into some marriage counseling. Maybe you can work things out.”

  “That would just make things worse,” Jenkins explained. “I told my girlfriend I would be divorced by the end of the year. She's getting pretty impatient.”

  “You have a girlfriend?” Dan asked judgmentally.

  “There's nothing in the prenup about me having an affair.”

  “Oh, what's your girlfriend's name?” Mel asked.

  “Bunny.”

  “Is she as hot as your wife?”

  “Heavens no.”

  “Well then, eh—”

  “What the Christ?” Dan shouted. “I can't help you, Jenkins. I did what you asked. Now, give me the rest of my money and we'll go our separate ways.”

  Jenkins reached into his back pocket. “Is a check okay?”

  “Cash,” Dan replied.

  “Um, Dan,” said Mel.

  “Yeah, Mel, what is it?”

  “The hot yoga lady is pointing a gun at us.”

  Everyone's head turned toward the door. Jenkins' wife was holding a .38 revolver. Her arm was straight and the pistol was turned to the side. It was obvious she had never held a gun before and her weapons training had come from any number of gangbangers on any number of cop shows.

  “What are you doing, Margo?” Jenkins voice was shaking.

  “So, you thought I wouldn't find out, you bastard!” Margo shouted. Her hand was shaking. She pulled the hammer back. Everyone in the room could hear it click into place.

  Dan looked toward the bar out of the corner of his eye. Red was gone. He had dropped down behind the bar and taken cover.

  “Margo, put the gun down,” her husband pleaded.

  Mel stood. “Ma'am, lower the gu—”

  Margo pulled the trigger. Everyone flinched. The bullet passed between Dan and Mel, and hit the wall behind them. Margo cocked the gun again.

  Mel quickly returned to his seat. “Sorry, ma'am.”

  “It's that whore that cuts your hair, isn't it?” Margo yelled.

  “Is it the whore that cuts your hair?” Mel whispered.

  “Yes,” Jenkins whispered back.

  Mel shouted, “He said it is her. It is the whore that cuts his hair!”

  Margo aimed the weapon and fired, hitting Jenkins in the shoulder.

  Dan flipped the table on its side and took cover.

  Red jumped up from behind the bar and hurled a full bottle of Dos Manos tequila at Margo. Margo never saw the bottle coming. It hit her square in the forehead, dropping her to the floor in a pile of scorned woman. The bottle shattered on the floor next to her.

  Jenkins lay next to the table, white as a sheet. “Somebody call an ambulance!” he yelled hoarsely.

  Red was already punching 911 into his cell phone.

  Dan stood and looked down at Jenkins. “Is there anything in the prenup about attempted murder?”

  “No, but this just might be enough to get me out of this marriage.” Jenkins' head fell back on the floor; he was out cold.

  Mel was still seated in his chair. “Wow,” he s
aid. “This place is crazier than the nut house.”

  Chapter Two

  Maxine Myers stood at the screen door overlooking Dan's backyard. She held two plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She pushed the door open with her knee and walked down the gravel path that led to the two Adirondack chairs next to the fire pit.

  Mel Gormin sat in one chair reading the financial section of the Key West Citizen. Dan Coast sat in the other chair reading the funnies. Dan's arms were extended in front of him, holding the newspaper as far away from his face as he could get it.

  “Looks like someone needs glasses,” Maxine observed.

  “Looks like someone just needs longer arms,” Dan corrected. “The way they print these goddamn newspapers nowadays it's hard to believe anyone can read them. Small print, blurry letters, next thing you know they'll start printing the news on black paper.”

  The reading glasses debate had gone on for months now. Maxine really began applying pressure when she noticed one afternoon how greasy Dan's hair had become. It only took Maxine a few days to determine that Dan could no longer read the shampoo bottles in the shower. For weeks he had been washing his hair with conditioner, rinsing, and then conditioning his hair with conditioner. Of course, Dan blamed Maxine because until she showed up there had been only one two dollar jug of coconut scented shampoo in the bathroom, and not one bottle of conditioner. Maxine made Dan an eye appointment the following Monday morning—an appointment that he never showed up for.

  Maxine handed Mel his plate and then Dan's to him. “Yeah, I would imagine it's the newspaper.”

  “I don't think it's the newspaper,” Mel informed them. “I can read it just fine. You probably should have your eyes checked.”

  Dan shot Mel a look. “I should probably have my head checked for bringing you here.”

  “I'm just saying, maybe glasses would help.”

  “I'll make you a deal. I'll get my eyes checked and then we'll get you fitted for a muzzle.”

  “I've never bitten anyone,” Mel argued.

  “You're right. We'll use duct tape instead.”

  “Am I gonna have to separate you two boys?” Maxine scolded.

  All three turned to look when they heard Bev's screen door slam. Bev, holding a cup of coffee, walked onto her deck, down the steps, and across her backyard toward the group. Buddy, who had been lying on Bev's deck in the sun jumped up and followed close behind her.

  “Morning, neighbors,” Bev said.

  “Morning,” they all responded.

  Mel jumped up. “Here, beautiful Bev, take my seat. I'll grab a lawn chair out of the shed.”

  “Thank you, Mel,” said Bev, taking a seat in the Adirondack chair. She glanced at Dan and added, “Nice to see that chivalry isn't completely dead.” Dan managed a grunt.

  “Can I make you something for breakfast?” Maxine asked. “There's more bacon in there, and I can throw on a couple eggs.”

  “No, thanks, Maxine. I've already eaten.”

  “Where's Kip this morning?” Dan asked.

  “He didn't stay over last night,” Bev replied.

  “Everything okay?” Maxine asked.

  Mel returned with a lawn chair, unfolded it and set it next to Bev. He took a seat and rested his plate on his knee.

  “I guess,” Bev responded. “We broke up last night.”

  “What did you do?” Dan asked.

  “What makes you think I did something?”

  “Well, I can't imagine Kip Larson did anything wrong.”

  “Why?” Maxine asked. “Because he's your childhood hero who walked on the moon?”

  “He never walked on the moon,” Dan informed her.

  “No one did anything wrong,” Bev assured him. “We just decided that it wasn't meant to be.”

  “Wasn't meant to be,” Dan repeated. “How could it not be meant to be? He's an American hero.”

  “Just like GI Joe,” Mel added.

  “What are we gonna do now?” Dan asked.

  “We?” Bev asked.

  “Am I still gonna see him? What happens now?”

  “We'll find that out at the custody hearing,” Bev answered sarcastically. “Maybe he can get you on the weekends.”

  “Very funny,” Dan said. “This is so depressing.”

  “I realize you're hurt,” Bev said. “but you have to understand, this wasn't your fault and we both still love you.”

  “Okay, okay, that's enough.” Just then Dan's cell phone rang, he pulled it from his pocket. “Hello?”

  “Dan Coast?” a man asked.

  “That's me.”

  “My name is Preston Harvey. I was referred to you by Joseph Pantucco.”

  “And?”

  “And me and a client I manage will be in Key West for a week starting Thursday. We will be staying at the Atlantic Inn. I'm looking for someone to work security.”

  “Security? What do you mean by security?”

  “My client is in the film industry, Mr. Coast. I need someone to be with her whenever she goes out. You know, keep away the paparazzi, things like that.”

  “A bodyguard.”

  “Yes. Is that something you do, Mr. Coast?” Preston asked.

  Without hesitation, Dan replied, “Yes, all the time. I do that quite a bit. I'm a security expert for Chrissakes.”

  Maxine, Bev, and Mel all cocked their heads and gave him a confused look.

  “Excellent,” said Preston. “Our plane will be arriving Thursday afternoon at 1:45. If you can give me your email address I'll send you all the information as well as Ms. Hunt's itinerary for the week.”

  Dan thought quickly. “Um … my email is down at the moment.”

  “Down?”

  “Yeah, uh … somebody hacked it. I'll call you back in about a half hour and give you my email. It should be back up and running by then.”

  “Okay. I look forward to hearing back from you.”

  Dan hung up his phone.

  “Your email was hacked?” Maxine asked.

  “You're a security expert?” Bev asked.

  “Can I have more bacon?” Mel asked.

  Dan tossed his phone to Maxine. “Can you set me up an email account, please?”

  Maxine snatched the phone out of the air and began tapping buttons.

  “Who are you going to be body-guarding?” Bev asked.

  “Some movie star.”

  “Name?”

  “He just said her last name was Hunt.”

  “It's a woman?” Maxine asked.

  “Oh, what if it's Helen Hunt!” Bev said. “I really like her.”

  Maxine finished setting up the email and tossed the phone back to Dan. “Your email address is dancoastkeywest@gmail.com, and your password is buddythedog123.”

  “Awesome,” Dan said, and dialed the phone.

  “The P Harvey Agency, Preston speaking.”

  “Hey Preston, it's Dan Coast. My email address is dancoastkeywest@gmail.com, and my password is buddythedog123.”

  “Okay. Thanks Mr. Coast, I'll send that information out toot sweet.”

  Dan hit the end call icon. “He's sending the information toot sweet.”

  “Toot sweet?” Bev asked.

  “That's what he said.”

  Maxine held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can change your password. Don't tell people your password; only you have to know that.”

  “Oh,” Dan replied, tossing her the phone.

  Mel sat silently for a few seconds and then asked, “Can I get some more bacon, toot sweet?”

  Chapter Three

  “I don't know why I have to ride in the backseat,” Dan stated as they drove along Flagler Avenue.

  “You know Mel can't ride in the backseat,” Maxine said. She took a left onto South Roosevelt Boulevard.

  Mel gave Dan a big grin. “Yeah, Dan. I get car sick. Remember?”

  “You're probably just making that up so you can ride shotgun
and I gotta sit back here.”

  “Dan, you know I would trade places with you if I could,” Mel said unconvincingly.

  “Whatever,” Dan replied.

  Maxine turned right onto A1A. “Where is this place again?” she asked.

  Dan pulled a piece of folded paper from the front pocket of his cargo shorts and unfolded it. He read his notes aloud. “Take a right on Cross Street, go to the end, and take a left on Twelfth Avenue.”

  Maxine followed the directions and pulled to the curb in front of a peach-colored, one story block home.

  “That must be the car there under the tarp,” Dan surmised.

  The three climbed out of the car and walked through the white wrought iron gate in the block fence that surrounded the property. As they got to the car the front door opened.

  “Can I help you?” asked a tall, thin man Dan judged to be in his late fifties.

  Dan pointed toward the car. “I'm Dan Coast, I called yesterday about buying the car.”

  “Oh, yeah, Mr. Coast. I've been expecting you.”

  Dan approached the man with his hand extended.

  “Mitch Fallon,” the man said and shook Dan's hand. “That's her right over there under the tarp.”

  Fallon walked with Dan to the car and yanked back the canvas tarp. Underneath was a black, 2009 Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet.

  “Whoa!” Dan said. “She's beautiful.”

  The car was in mint condition and just what Dan had spent the last three months looking for.

  “She's a beaut,” Mel agreed. “No Ferrari, but still pretty nice.”

  “Forty-five thousand?” Dan asked.

  “Yep. Hate to see her go,” Fallon said. “But Mother wants to move back to Oklahoma, and we're selling just about everything.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mel asked. “What else ya got?”

  Fallon tapped an index finger on his pursed lips. “Well, let's see. I got a fridge that's gotta go and a—”

  “He's not buying anything, sir,” Dan informed Fallon.

  “I need a new fridge!” Mel pouted.

  “You don't need a new fridge, the one in your room is fine.”