by Debbie Burke
She buried her fingers in his curls. A quiver of pleasurable anticipation ran through her. “I don’t think I got burned down there.”
His warm breath tickled her skin. “I better check anyway.”
Chapter 10 – Wiener Special
On day four without electricity, in the early dawn, only Smoky’s and Raul’s houses glimmered with lights, powered by their new generators. Neighbors watched from their porches as Tillman and Raul refueled the gas tank.
After breakfast, the three of them sat in the shade at Raul’s inlaid-tile concrete picnic table, the only patio furniture too heavy to be blown away. They drank coffee with milk, a welcome change now that their refrigerator ran. Tawny ran her fingertips along Tillman’s smooth jaw, freshly shaven using water heated on the barbecue grill. “Hot water is a wonderful invention,” she said.
Raul smiled at Tawny, embarrassment mingled with gratitude. “Thank you for helping my daughter’s bad dog. His paw is not so big this morning.” He turned to Tillman. “And I pay you back for the generator.”
Tillman shook his head. “The price of the generator is a lot cheaper than hiring someone to cut up that oak tree. Gracias.”
Raul gestured toward several people across the street. “My friends are very happy for the generator, too. Now their food won’t spoil because they can borrow my refrigerator.” He looked at a bedroom window in his bungalow. “Jessica is happy that school’s still closed. She likes to sleep late.” He sighed. “But I’m not happy until the electricity comes on.”
Tawny asked, “Have you been able to reach your wife?”
He shook his head, brown eyes troubled. “My brother is leaving messages with other ham operators in Puerto Rico but so much confusion there.” He rose and touched the brim of his cap. “I go to work now. Anything you need, anything I can do for you, you just say.” He climbed in his truck and drove away.
“Poor guy,” Tawny mused. “The news last night said hundreds of people are still missing in Puerto Rico. I hope his wife is OK.”
Tillman grimaced. “We have our own missing person to look for.”
They carried their mugs across the yard to Smoky’s house. On the kitchen table, Tillman opened his laptop, peered through his readers, and tapped the keyboard. “Today’s mission: Ms. Nyala Obregon.”
“Want me to call her?”
“No. Based on what you found yesterday, I’m the last person she wants to talk to. No warning. We just show up.” He pointed at the screen. “Look.”
Tawny put on her glasses and leaned over his shoulder. A map showed streets twisting around numerous blue blobs that indicated bodies of water. “No wonder it’s called Land O’Lakes. Is that red arrow where she lives?”
“Tax records show she owns six properties but I’m betting this one is her residence. A condo inside a gated community.”
“How do we get in without tipping her off?”
He smirked. “I’m good.”
She nudged his shoulder. “Yeah, and modest, too.” As much as his arrogance sometimes annoyed her, she also recognized that was why, in nearly twenty years of practice, he’d won almost every case he’d tried. He was incredibly good.
He closed the laptop. “Want to come along?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Sure you feel all right?” He lightly brushed the peeling skin on her arm. “It’s going to be hot again today. Damn that crunched-up car of Smoky’s. The air won’t work with my head stuck out the open window.”
She smiled at the image. “I’ll be OK.”
“I checked online for rental cars but there’s nothing available for four hundred miles.”
“Hey, what about Raul’s van? He said if we needed anything…”
“Good idea. I’ll call him.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Even better, Nyala won’t recognize it.”
***
“Nyala lives in a nudist place?” Tawny stared at the sign on a solid concrete wall that blocked the gated community from view. She turned to Tillman in the driver’s seat of Raul’s borrowed van. “Did you know about this?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Smoke mentioned once on the phone that he and a girlfriend liked to party at some resort where they’d get naked and skinny-dip.”
Tawny shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
“Makes it a snap to get in.”
“Excuse me?”
“We buzz at the gate and say we want to visit for the day.”
She grinned. “Are you going to take your clothes off?”
“Maybe. What about you?”
“Right. Like I’m not already peeling. No, thank you. Besides, the sign says Clothing optional. That means you can stay dressed, right?”
“Party pooper.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Remember, we’re here to work.”
Tillman pulled into the entrance and pressed an intercom button. “Hi, we’d like a tour.”
The disembodied voice answered, “Come on in. Turn right at the T in the road, then turn left and the office will be in front of you.” The power gate slowly swung open.
“Nice they have electricity here,” Tawny said. “Wonder if ours will ever come back on.”
Once inside, Tillman turned left at the T.
“Didn’t she say right?” Tawny asked.
“Yeah, but Google maps shows Nyala’s address is to the left.” He continued a short distance to another turn. Palm trees and oaks shaded the street. Ahead stood clusters of buildings, each painted a different bright color—orange, pink, turquoise, purple, green.
Tawny craned her neck, studying the surroundings. “All these colors. Looks like a tropical sunset.”
A naked blond woman pedaled by on a bike and waved at them.
“Nice scenery,” Tillman said, straight-faced.
Tawny poked his arm.
He stared down his nose at her. “I was referring to the sandhill cranes over there. What were you looking at?”
Sure enough, a pair of long-legged cranes minced on the shoreline of a pond with water lilies floating on it.
“What are you jealous of?” He kept his gaze lasered straight ahead. “You’re much better looking than she was.” He checked his laptop propped on the dashboard. “We should be getting close.”
She knew he’d caught her grin in his peripheral vision.
“Here we are.” He pulled next to a two-story green building that appeared to have ten units. The rear of the condos faced the parking lot.
They walked around to the front of the building to find the entrances overlooked a fifty-acre lake. Tawny paused to gaze at a wooden pier jutting into water that was the color of tea. Nude sunbathers lounged on chaises scattered along its length. A thick cypress forest, hung with Spanish moss, formed a border around the lake.
A squirrel jumped on the pier railing and chattered at Tawny. Snowy egrets poked in the mud at the edge of the lake. A brown rabbit emerged from ferns, nose twitching. Except for a few split trees and broken branches floating in the lake, Tawny didn’t see much damage from the hurricane.
“It’s like the Garden of Eden,” she whispered to Tillman.
“Better watch out for the snake.” He pointed at a unit. “Here’s her place.” He opened the door of a screened porch and they stepped inside.
Four white wicker chairs and a matching table furnished the porch. The blades of a ceiling fan slowly turned. Tillman had to duck sideways to avoid them. He rang the bell.
After a few seconds, the door opened only wide enough for Nyala Obregon to peek through. Her expression was impassive, no show of surprise at unexpected visitors. She wore a lime-colored sarong knotted above her breasts. Otherwise, nothing inside the condo was visible through the barely-cracked door.
Tillman bowed slightly. “Good morning, Ms. Nyala.”
She waited, silent.
Tillman pulled a chair away from the patio table, as if inviting her. “May we sit down?” Without waiting for her answer, he
lowered himself into the chair. Tawny took his cue and sat beside him.
Nyala slipped through the narrow opening and closed the door firmly behind her. She sat opposite them and laid a graceful forearm on the table. She propped her other elbow in her palm and rested her cheek against long, splayed fingers. “Is anything wrong with the house?”
“The house is fine,” he answered. “We have a generator now. That makes life a little easier.”
It occurred to Tawny that she viewed them as her employees, delivering a status report on her property.
Tillman sat easy in the chair, appearing relaxed but Tawny sensed the tight coils of his muscles. He said, “You are the registered agent for Sports of Yesteryear.”
“I was. Not anymore.”
“Tawny and I had a drink with Gabriel Marquez Garcia the other night.”
“Really.” She almost sounded bored.
“Did you know Gabriel had ordered his two employees to kick the shit out of Smoky? Likely broke some ribs.”
She leaned back and folded her slim arms. “That was unnecessary.”
Tillman answered, “Agreed. I attempted to come to an understanding with Gabriel that would satisfy Smoky’s debt. He was not amenable to my offer.”
“Gabriel can be stubborn.”
“So can I.”
Finally, a slight smile crossed her beautiful face. “I gathered that, Mr. Rosenbaum.”
“Ms. Nyala, you have not been forthcoming.”
“I didn’t realize I was under an obligation to do so.”
Now Tillman smiled. “You certainly are not. But, as Smoky’s friend and attorney, I would be most appreciative if you were.”
She leaned forward, back ramrod straight, both elbows on the table, chin resting in her palms. “Gabriel is my younger brother.”
Tawny gasped then clamped her lips tight. Dammit, why couldn’t she hide her emotions?
Nyala briefly noted Tawny’s reaction then directed her attention back to Tillman. “My half-sibling, actually. Same mother, different fathers. I was eight when he was born. I bathed and diapered him from the day of his birth.”
Tawny noticed the woman’s delicate, narrow nose and realized Gabriel had the same nose. And the same green eyes. Only the windows into both of their souls were opaque.
“Even today,” she continued, “when I look at him, I still see that smiling baby, kicking his chubby little legs as I tickled him.” A faint sigh escaped through slightly flared nostrils. “As a man, though, I understand he has an unforgiving attitude in business.”
Tillman watched Nyala. Tawny couldn’t guess the strategy going on behind his courtroom expression.
After long seconds of silence, he spoke: “Given your relationship, are you willing to intercede with Gabriel? Convince him to accept a reasonable settlement and end the dispute between him and Smoky. That enmity can only cause both of them unnecessary grief.”
She leaned back and inspected her manicured nails. Her hands stayed rock steady, no quiver or tremble. “I have no influence over Gabriel,” she said. “He is his own man. I’m only a sentimental, foolish big sister.”
“Foolish, you are not, Ms. Nyala,” Tillman answered.
She rose. “I cannot help you, Mr. Rosenbaum.” She went inside the condo and closed the door.
Tawny faced Tillman, eyebrows raised. His chin lifted slightly. They left the screened porch and walked back to the parking lot. Inside the van, she said, “That’s weird. Brother and sister.”
“Blood’s thicker than water. Can’t count on her to help Smoky…if he’s still alive, that is.” His jutting jaw firmed into granite as he started the engine. Nothing bothered Tillman as much as the inability to solve a problem. Impossible tasks never worried him but being helpless did.
They drove through the meandering lanes of the sprawling community, past blocks of condos and single-family residences. “There must be five hundred homes here,” Tawny said. “Who knew so many people want to live naked?”
A chain link fence enclosed a central club complex with several swimming pools and dozens of nude people sunbathing on chaise lounges. Motel rooms and an octagonal open-air building were painted sky-blue with white trim and dark blue awnings, giving the resort a tropical feel. A spirited volleyball game was going on at an adjacent sand court.
Tawny gawked for a few seconds then nudged Tillman. “Is that uncomfortable for a guy, flopping around like that?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Want to check the place out?”
She raised a shoulder. “Why not? I’m getting hungry. You can buy me lunch.”
They parked near the club entrance and went inside the lobby. A clerk wearing a tight t-shirt and a short black skirt greeted them and handed over an application form. While Tawny filled it out, Tillman pulled open a swinging door into a darkened bar. A central dancefloor was ringed with cocktail tables and chairs.
“The nightclub opens at eight,” the clerk said. “It’s lingerie night. Prizes for the sexiest costumes. If you pay the day fee, that covers entrance to the club tonight, also.”
Tawny exchanged a look with Tillman then answered, “We’ll think about it.”
His wordless smirk called her a coward.
The clerk directed them to a rear door of the lobby and said a tour guide would join them in a few minutes.
Outside, umbrella tables and chaises ringed a hot tub and a curving conversation pool full of chatting skinny-dippers. The octagonal building turned out to be a tiki bar. At the entrance, a reader board advertised $1 Wiener Special. The tangy aroma of sauerkraut and mustard drifted in the air.
“Smells good,” Tawny said, pulling Tillman toward the door.
Right at that moment, a man exited the bar, stark naked and swinging in the breeze. He carried a plastic cup of beer and a chili dog with onions in a paper boat. He smiled at them then headed to an outdoor table.
Tawny started through the door but Tillman caught her arm. He bent to her ear. “After seeing that, I’m not eating any goddamn wiener.”
She giggled. “Chicken.”
Chapter 11 – Orange Hibiscus
After lunch, Tawny and Tillman headed back to New Port Richey and found an open gas station on the way. They waited in line for a half-hour to fill Raul’s van plus two gas cans for the generator. More traffic lights were now working and some businesses had reopened. Utility crews apparently restored power in commercial strips first then fanned out into residential areas. Smoky’s neighborhood must have been way down their list.
When they parked the van in Raul’s carport, Jessica ran out of the house, followed by her dog. Even with his paw bandaged, he trotted easily, as if yesterday’s snake bite was a distant memory.
The girl was breathless with excitement. “I gotta show you what Churro found.” She waved a scrap of cloth in front of Tawny’s face as she climbed out of the van.
The fabric looked familiar—pink with orange hibiscus.
Tawny’s heart sank. She shot a look at Tillman, striding around from the driver’s side. His narrowed eyes said he also recognized the torn material.
He took it from Jessica, his voice a low rumble like an earthquake building underground. “That’s the shirt Smoky was wearing.”
“I told you Churro caught his scent,” the girl insisted. “I knew it the way he jumped into the water to swim over to it.”
Tillman moved to the concrete picnic table and spread the ragged cloth out. Reddish-brown stains marred the shredded edges. Tawny swallowed, knowing it was blood. Mostly likely, Smoky’s.
Tillman’s voice stayed low, tightly controlled. “Where’d you find this, Jessica?”
The girl gestured toward the lake. “Same place where me and Tawny went yesterday. Where the cottonmouth bit Churro.” She looked up at Tawny. “Remember that little island?”
Tawny bit her lip, hard.
“The water’s gone down since yesterday,” Jessica said. “Today, we could walk across a little strip of mud and get to the isl
and. This was all tangled in the roots of a tree that fell over.”
“Show us,” Tillman ordered.
The girl and dog practically bounced in anticipation of plunging back into the jungle.
Venturing into the swamp again filled Tawny with dread. “Wait, we should have a weapon.”
Tillman retrieved the pistol from the T-bird’s glove box.
Tawny bent low to Jessica’s eager face. “Be very careful. If Churro gets bitten by another snake, he could die.”
Tillman added, “And if you get bitten by a snake, your dad will kill me.”
Guilt tinged the girl’s smile, an acknowledgment of her mistakes the day before.
She led them on a different route, even more overgrown with vines that tangled around their shins. They twisted and turned through tree roots and cypress knees. Strings of Spanish moss brushed Tawny’s face, making her skin itch. She stepped over a fallen log and, without warning, sank knee-deep in stinking slime. “Dammit.”
Tillman offered a hand and pulled her out of the bog.
Churro darted ahead and Jessica sprinted after him, both disappearing into the thicket.
“Jessica!” Tawny called. “Slow down. Wait for us.”
The girl ignored her.
“She’s OK,” Tillman said. “Raul told me she’s been running around the swamp since she was a toddler. Says she knows the jungle better than the gators.”
Tawny shot him what her son used to call the worried-mom look. “That went real well yesterday.”
They slogged forward, trying to keep Jessica in sight as the path meandered along the ragged shoreline. After a half-mile, Tawny recognized the clearing and the little island. As Jessica had described, the water level had lowered enough to expose a narrow mud spit that connected the shore to the island.
Girl and dog were already out there, hunkered next to a toppled tree, its roots poking up in the air like gnarled fingers. Churro whined and pawed at the mud. The now-filthy bandages wrapping his foot were coming undone.
Tawny and Tillman picked their way carefully across the spit and joined Jessica.
She looked up at them. “He smells something.”
The tree had split, part lying in the mud, but part still standing, a wide splinter of green wood sticking up. The fallen trunk sheltered a hollow underneath. Tillman pushed the dog aside and knelt down. He bent low with his face close to the ground and peered into the hollow.
