Deadly Moves

by Rodney Riesel

  “No, that's alright. I was just gonna go a short distance. I won't be long.”

  “Are you sure? I'm a nurse. You might need someone to administer CPR.”

  “I used to run, ya know,” Dan responded defensively.

  “You were a lot younger then … and in a lot better shape.”

  “A lot better shape? Ouch.”

  He walked back to the bed and gave Maxine a kiss on the lips. He reluctantly pulled the covers back over her. “I'll be back shortly.”

  “Be careful. I love you.”

  “Back at ya,” Dan replied, and went out the door.

  Dan made his way through the living room past his dog, Buddy, who was lying on his puffy flannel bed next to the small table that held the framed photograph of his late wife, Alex. Dan glanced down at the photo on his way by. The hundreds of times they had run together along beaches, through cities, and on country roads flashed through his mind. His eyes shot to Buddy. The dog raised his head and their eyes met. Man and best friend had one thing in common: They shared one horrible moment in time, the loss of the most important person in the universe.

  Dan stood with his back to the street with the toe of his sneaker on the bottom step. He pushed the heel of his foot toward the ground stretching his calf muscle, switched legs and repeated. He grabbed his ankle and pulled his foot to his butt cheek, then did the same with the other. He bent and tried to touch his toes; not gonna happen.

  He ran across the yard, over the sidewalk, and into the street, waving to Edna MacGee, who was watching with great curiosity out her front window. Edna dropped the curtain when she saw Dan's wave.

  It was seventy-five degrees and Dan was running into a light breeze. A seagull bounced across the street to claim a McDonald's bag as its own. This isn't so bad. Nothing to it. Four blocks later, at the corner of Rose and Thompson, his thoughts changed to, This is so stupid. Why would I do this to myself? But he kept going.

  Dan finished his one-mile run where his driveway met the sidewalk. He wondered how long it had taken him. He remembered when he ran at an eight-minute pace. He walked down the driveway and along the gravel path to his back door. He noticed he was wheezing like an old codger and took a moment to compose himself before stepping inside. No sense in giving Maxine any ammunition.

  “How did it go?” Maxine asked when he came through the kitchen door. She was wearing light-gray sweatpants with the legs pulled up just below her knees, and a red tank-top. Her long brown hair was brushed back into a pony-tail. She was barefoot and stood at the kitchen counter whisking three eggs in a bowl.

  “Better than I thought,” Dan replied. He looked at the clock on the microwave. “Do you know what time I left?”

  “I didn't notice.”

  “Huh, I'll have to time myself next time.” Dan kicked off his running shoes and left them by the back door and went to the coffee maker.

  “Next time?” Maxine asked.

  “Yeah, I think it's about time I got in a little better shape.” Dan held his finger and thumb about a quarter of an inch apart.

  “Maybe we can run together next time,” Maxine offered.

  Dan poured some coffee and blew into the cup. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

  “This getting into shape wouldn't have anything to do with a twenty-three-year-old porn star, would it?”

  “Adult film star. Kind of. How am I supposed to protect her if I'm so out of shape that I can't protect myself?”

  “Good point,” Maxine agreed. “I hope Red will be helping you with this.”

  “He will.”

  Maxine opened the bread wrapper, grabbed two slices of bread, and submerged them into the egg, sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon mixture. She dropped both pieces into the heated frying pan and reached for two more slices. “Can you grab the butter and syrup?” she asked.

  He did, and then went to the front porch to retrieve the morning edition of the Citizen. Chief of Police Injured in Robbery Attempt the headline read. Dan wondered how he was going to keep what happened a secret from Maxine for the next seven hours, until she left for work. He walked out onto the front porch and hid the paper under the cushion of a chair and returned to the kitchen. “Damn kid hasn't left the paper yet,” he lied.

  “Really? That's odd. It's usually here by now,” Maxine responded.

  “I want to see if we're in the paper today,” Mel announced as he walked in behind Dan. Mel was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  Dan discreetly tried to get his attention, but Mel kept on talking.

  “I bet we're right on the front page,” said Mel, beaming.

  Maxine turned around. “Be on the front page for what?” she asked.

  “We were in a shoot-out,” Mel explained, “and had to chase some bad guys on foot.”

  “What?” Maxine asked.

  Dan grinned nervously. “It wasn't a shoot-out.”

  Mel turned and cocked his head. “What do you mean? Rick got shot right in the ear.”

  “What?” Maxine asked again.

  “It's not as bad as it sounds,” said Dan.

  “I hope not, because it sounds really bad,” Maxine said. “Was Rick shot, or not?”

  Mel said, “Yes.”

  “It just grazed him,” Dan replied.

  “Oh, just grazed him,” Maxine said sarcastically. “I guess that is nothing to worry about.” She walked toward Mel. “Are you okay, Mel, honey?”

  “I'm fine,” Mel replied. “Don't worry about us. Me and Dan are probably the two best private investigators on this island.”

  “I'm sure you are, Mel, but you still have to be careful. Now, can you go out to the picnic table and I'll bring you your breakfast in a minute.”

  “Okay.” Mel started for the back door, stopped when he got there, and turned around. “Are you going to yell at Dan?”

  “No, Mel.”

  Mel walked outside and down the steps. Maxine pushed the back door closed and turned toward Dan. “You idiot!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Maxine gasped. “He's our responsibility when he's staying with us. You have to stop doing things like this when he's with you.”

  “He's fine. Besides, I didn't know that was going to happen. We were on our way to look at a car.”

  Maxine walked back to the stove and flipped the French toast. “How did it turn from looking at a car into Rick getting shot in the head?”

  “He didn't get shot in the head.”

  “The last I checked, the ear is part of the head.”

  “When we drove by Duncan Street, Mel recognized a moving van that was sitting in a driveway.”

  “Recognized it from where?”

  “It was the same van that was parked in front of the house on Stock Island where we looked at the Porsche. Mel thought it might be a connection to the murders.”

  “Mel recognized the van? Mel thought there might be a connection? Well, I guess this was all Mel's fault.”

  Dan nodded his head. “Exactly. I promise from now on I'll keep a shorter leash on him so he won't get the rest of us in any trouble.”

  “You're an idiot.”

  Dan opened the back door. “I never said I wasn't.” He picked his coffee cup up off the counter. “Can you bring my breakfast out too?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out to have a word with Mel. Don't you think he owes me an apology? He could have gotten me killed.” Dan let the door slam behind him.

  Mel was tossing a tennis ball out toward the beach when Dan walked up to the Adirondack chairs. Buddy glanced back at Dan and then took off after the ball.

  “What time do we have to be to the airport?” Mel asked. He looked back over his shoulder to see Dan glaring at him. “What's the matter with you?”

  “What do you think?” Dan answered.

  “Um, you're mad at me?”

  “Good guess.”

  “What did I do?”

  Dan sat in one of the chairs. “Every time something happens you
run in and tell Maxine.”

  “I walked in and told her.”

  “Same thing. You gotta learn when to keep your mouth shut. What happens when we're working a case is just between you and me. You don't have to tell her everything.”

  Buddy ran back to Mel and dropped the ball at his feet.

  “Sorry,” Mel said as he bent and picked up the ball. “I won't say anything from now on. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  The two men heard gravel crunching beneath someone's feet and turned to see Red coming down the pathway.

  “Hey, Red!” Mel shouted. “You're just in time for breakfast.”

  “I was hopin'!” Red called back. He walked over and took a seat in the chair across from Dan. “So, what's the plan?” he asked.

  “Hunt's plane arrives at 1:45,” Dan said. “We'll head over to the airport around one.”

  “Sounds good,” Red said.

  “I wish we had a second car,” said Dan.

  “We can use my Ferrari,” Mel suggested.

  “Something that doesn't call a lot of attention to us,” Dan said.

  “I still have April's VW bug,” Red offered. The car Red was referring to was a pink Volkswagen Beetle once owned by April Pantucco, wife of mobster Jimmy Pantucco. Red had purchased the car from Jimmy after April's death.

  Dan nodded his head. “A pink Bug, just what I had in mind.”

  “Beggars can't be choosers,” Red reminded him. “Besides, a little pink car is the perfect vehicle to use when picking up a young porn star.”

  “Adult film star,” said Dan.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dan took a left off of South Roosevelt Boulevard onto Faraldo Circle and then into the parking lot of the Key West International Airport. He pulled the pink VW Bug into a parking spot and shut off the engine. Red and Mel, who were following close behind in Red's car, pulled into the parking space next to him. The three men climbed from the cars and walked across the parking lot toward the terminal.

  Red checked his watch. “Her plane should be landing any minute,” he announced to no one in particular.

  The flight board said that American Airlines flight 4334 from Miami had arrived on time.

  “Maybe this is them,” said Mel, referring to a very over-weight couple in their fifties walking toward them.

  “Does that woman look like an adult film star, Mel?” Dan asked.

  “There is a thing called MILF porn, ya know,” Mel shot back.

  “I really don't think that woman falls into that category either.”

  Red chuckled. “I'm sure she falls into some porn category.”

  “None I want to watch,” Dan assured him.

  “You should have let me hold a sign with their names on it,” said Mel.

  “Shut up about the damn sign,” Dan groused.

  It was a little after two when Kendra Hunt and her manager Preston Harvey met Dan, Red, and Mel at the baggage carousel.

  To Dan's eyes, Kendra was smaller in person than she looked in her photograph. Most celebrities were, in his limited experience, she stood about five-two and weighed maybe a hundred pounds. She was wearing baggy, dark brown sweatpants with SD padres written down one leg, and a white golf shirt, one size too big so as to hide what Dan presumed were bodacious physical assets, with all three buttons undone. On her head was a Padres baseball cap, and to finish the incognito look she wore Fendi cat-eye sunglasses that looked far too large for her small, freckled face.

  He wasn't proud of it—but he wasn't ashamed, either—but as a card-carrying red-blooded male, Dan had sampled his share of porn in his younger days, more out of idle curiosity than prurient interest; when it came to sex, Dan liked to participate, not be a voyeur. From what he could see of her face, Kendra bore a passing resemblance to Bree Olsen, the girl next door-ish porn star Charlie Sheen had called his “goddess” during his well-publicized debauchery a few years back. She reminded Dan like any number of blond nymphets he had secretly ogled on the beach in his time—a wholesomely pretty girl who should be thinking about college or getting married, not banging strangers for a living.

  Something about her brought out Dan's paternal instinct, too. He hoped she'd manage to escape from her sordid lifestyle and not become just another casualty of the chew 'em up, spit 'em out porn industry when her looks began to fade. Hell, she could be his daughter. Most assuredly she was somebody's daughter. All those lost girls were. Sleazebags totally devoid of morality preyed on their low self-esteem, promising glamour and wealth and fame. By the time they discovered the truth, it was too late to claw their way out of the abyss.

  Sporting his gray Hawaiian shirt, white shorts, flip-flops, and Margaritaville ball cap, Preston Harvey looked like every other fifty-year-old man on vacation in the Keys. He did nothing to try to hide his middle-age paunch and had perfected a hairstyle that, like all comb overs, only drew attention to his baldness instead of hiding it. A ball of sleaze hung to him like a bad cologne, augmented by the chandelier of gaudy gold chains that dangled down into his forest of gray hair on his flabby chest.

  “Harvey Preston?” Dan asked with his hand extended.

  “Yes.” Preston shook his hand. “You must be Dan Coast.”

  “I am.” Dan motioned toward his two cohorts. “This is Red Baxter and Mel Gormin. They'll be working with me.”

  Preston stepped aside and introduced the young starlet. “This, gentlemen, is the beautiful Kendra Hunt, soon to be the most famous woman in adult films.”

  Dan nodded. “It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Hunt.”

  Red reached out to shake her tiny hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Kendra let it be known that she was not interested and turned toward the baggage carousel. She stared at the bags as they made their way around. “Why are my bags not here, Harvey?” she demanded impatiently.

  “I'm sure they'll be out any second, Kendra,” Preston replied. “Calm down.”

  Kendra's head snapped around so quick her pony tail smacked her in the face. “Don't you tell me to calm down. You drag me down to this god-forsaken island to dance at some shitty little bar. I'm nominated for three AVN Awards this year. I should be in Vegas, not here with these”—she waved her hand at the trio—“redneck … whatever they are.”

  Dan and Red looked at each other with eyebrows raised.

  Mel stepped forward and held out his hand. “Miss. Hunt, it's an honor to meet such a beautiful young woman, especially one of such importance in the adult entertainment industry. On behalf of my colleagues, I would like to welcome you to our small slice of paradise.”

  “Well … thank you,” Kendra responded. “That's very nice of you. Marvin, is it?”

  “Mel, miss, Mel Gormin.”

  She took Mel's hand and gave it a slight shake. “It's very nice to meet you Mel Gormin.”

  When their hands released Dan stepped forward. “Miss Hunt, you will be riding to your hotel with me in one car, and Mr. Preston will be riding with Red and Mel in another car.”

  “I would like Mel to ride with me,” said Kendra.

  “Of course you would,” Dan mumbled.

  As Kendra walked past Red she looked up and said, “Be a dear and grab the bags, won't you?”

  When they reached the parking lot Mel waved his arm at the pink Volkswagen Bug like Carol Merrill revealing what was behind door number two. “We secured a vehicle we felt would best represent your personality,” he explained.

  Kendra smiled as she walked around the vehicle. “I love it!”

  “We knew you would,” said Mel as he opened the passenger side door. “Would you like to ride up front, or in the back?”

  “I'll ride in the back if you ride back there with me, Mel.”

  Mel pulled the seat forward and motioned for her to get in. “I sure will, Miss Hunt.”

  “Please, call me Kendra.”

  “My pleasure … captivating Kendra. I only hope I don't get carsick and barf all over you like a dog.” Mel stuck his index
finger in his mouth and pretend-retched convincingly.

  To the surprise of all Kendra seized the same digit and plunged it into her own luscious mouth, sucking playfully for a long tantalizing moment while Mel's eyes bugged out of their sockets. Dan and Red were frozen in place.

  Mel broke the silence with, “Ah, Kendra, how can you do that without gagging?”

  Kendra tilted her cat-eye shades down to reveal her scintillating green eyes. “Practice, big boy. Now, get in!”

  Red popped his trunk, placed the four suitcases inside, and slammed it shut. “What the hell is that all about?” he whispered to Dan.

  Dan shrugged. “Who knows? Women seem to like him. He's got a certain disarming charm.”

  “I have to start acting crazier,” Red said. “Maybe women will like me better.”

  “Yeah. Who knew bat shit crazy was the way to a beautiful woman's heart?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dan Coast steered the VW around the circular driveway in front of the Atlantic Inn and stopped in front of the main entrance. Red pulled the Firebird in behind him. Two valets dressed identically in blue Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts walked to the cars. Dan recognized one of the boys as Billy Denton, a longtime acquaintance he'd aided financially over the years

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Coast,” Billy said as Dan opened his door.

  “How's everything going, Billy?” Dan asked.

  “Good, sir.”

  Dan walked around to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, and pulled the seat forward. On the drive over, he'd glanced in his rearview mirror to make sure Kendra wasn't tutoring Mel in the art of porn acting and was relieved to see Mel had kept his fingers—and all his body parts— out of the starlet's mouth. As the smiling couple climbed from the vehicle, Dan surveyed the area, just like he had seen Kevin Costner do it in The Bodyguard.

  Red had his trunk open and was grabbing the suitcases

  The large glass double doors of the hotel slid open and out walked Michael Lord waving his hand above his head. “Daniel!” he called out. Michael was dressed just like the valets with the exception of a red shirt instead of blue. Unlike an old episode of Star Trek, a red shirt at the Atlantic Inn was a good thing.