The Boss of Hampton Beach

by Jed Power

  Chapter 24

  If you want your family to keep on breathing . . .

  The voice kept echoing in Dan's head, bouncing back and forth, back and forth. No mistaking the tone in that voice. The guy it belonged to, the man claiming to be the missing cocaine's owner, had definitely made it clear he wasn't bullshitting. On top of everything else, Dan could now add drug smugglers to his worry list.

  Only one problem–Dan didn't have the cocaine. Not that anyone believed him. Not this guy on the phone or the two state cops either. And he couldn't really blame any of them, because every time he denied having anything to do with the coke, it sounded like he was lying, even to himself.

  Suddenly Dan felt like drinking a beer instead of serving it–maybe even a few. A cold glass or two might help him figure out what the hell to do. He glanced at the Budweiser clock over the bar. Almost time to punch out. He wrapped up his shift and turned the bar over to his relief.

  Conover was out front somewhere, waiting for Dan to leave. He'd agreed to let Conover follow him which was probably a good thing considering how things had turned out on the beach. But tonight he had to get away. Somewhere he could be alone and have a few drinks. He didn't want a shadow along for that, least of all a state cop. So he left by the back door and headed down the side street to Ashworth Avenue.

  He never drank at the High Tide, shitting in your own backyard and all. If he had to drink, it was either at home or at the White Cap. He felt comfortable there. The Cap was more like the Tide than any other joint on the beach. Unlike most of the other bars and restaurants on the beach, both the Tide and the Cap were open year round and both drew a steady crowd of tough winter people during the off-season. They also had a gang of regulars all year long in addition to the summer tourists. Both offered good food at reasonable prices, something you definitely didn't find at most of the other beach eateries. They treated you right so you liked going back. Which meant they were both usually packed in the summer, especially at night.

  Dan squeezed his way through the front door, exchanged a quick greeting with the owner, and banged around the corner into the bar area. The bar itself was on the left and ran half the length of the room. Beyond the bar the room opened up with tables, chairs, a pool table, and room for the band against the back wall. He twisted his way through the standing-room-only crowd and plunked his ass down as a departing customer slid off a stool.

  There were two bartenders hustling behind the bar, both so busy Dan got a headache just watching them. The TV above the bar was turned to some sitcom he didn't recognize and couldn't hear above the crowd. He'd been lucky to find a seat–customers were lined up shoulder-to-shoulder tighter than worms in a bait can. There wasn't an empty stool to be seen. Standing customers waved their hands behind those lucky enough to get a seat, shouting drink orders, grabbing drinks, and passing money. It was crazy, a madhouse. Just the way Dan liked it. At least for tonight. With all these partying people around he could sip his beer and relax and not feel like all the eyes were on him.

  That alone was a treat, because lately he'd felt like everyone in the world was watching him. Conover was hoping that one way or another Dan'd lead him to the missing coke and whoever was responsible for the harbor murders. He had to admit it was reassuring to know Conover was there if Dan needed him again, no matter what the man's motivation was.

  Then there were those two jamokes he'd chased out of his cottage with the shot gun. Probably the same two, Peralta and his sidekick, who'd tried to grab him down on the beach. Dan had a sick feeling in his gut that he hadn't seen the last of those two.

  "Hey, Dan," the bartender shouted above the din as he set down a Heineken and a chilled pilsner glass in front of Dan. "How ya been?"

  "Good, Tim. Slow I see."

  "Oh yeah," Tim answered with a smile. "Always."

  Tim was a young guy, younger than Dan by maybe ten years, maybe more. He was a good bartender too. You had to be to work a beach bar nights in the summer. If you weren't, you'd get buried. Tim started to say something else, but didn't get to finish it–shouts for his services were coming from the entire length of the bar. He gave a flip of his hands and was off in a blur.

  Dan pulled his glass close. He rarely worked nights anymore and was glad of it. The money was better than days, but you earned every penny of it. Besides, moving for hours like a raped ape, by the time you finished, cleaned up the bar, and got home you were lucky if it was 2 a.m. Then you'd be so jacked up you'd have to have a few beers just to get to sleep.

  No, being a night bartender was a young person's game. Dan had paid his dues and now he liked the slower pace of the day crowd. They were a little older and so was he.

  He poured the beer skillfully into his glass, forming a small head of foam. Then he drank it, quickly. A cliche, but the first one really did go down the fastest. Tim slid another Heineken in front of him on one of his passes without being asked. Dan filled the glass again, took a small sip, and let out a deep breath. The knot in his gut started to loosen. With a little luck he'd be able to forget about all the craziness of the past few days, even if it was only for a few hours. He took a long swig. Then he took another.

  He'd just about finished his fourth beer, with another already placed in front of him, when he heard her voice.

  "Excuse me."

  Dan half turned his head and there she was, right in his face, squeezed in between him and the guy on the stool to his left. All he could see at this close distance was her head and what a head! She was smokin'. Beautiful blonde hair, gorgeous face, thin gold neck chains, and tanned everywhere. And yeah, she was speaking to him.

  Dan cleared his throat. "Yeah?" Apparently he hadn't gotten any smoother with age.

  "I can't get the bartender's attention," she said, smiling. "Would you order me a Kahlua Sombrero? I've got the money." She handed Dan a few bills and he took them. It wasn't that he was cheap, just kind of shaken. Obviously there was something besides Conover showing up tonight that could surprise him.

  Tim was so busy Dan had trouble getting his attention, but finally he did. Tim made the milkshake, set it down on the bar, and took off to fill another order. The woman didn't turn to go after Dan handed her the drink, just stood there jammed up close to him. She bent her head and pursed her lips around the straw, staring up at Dan with a look that made his face flush with heat.

  She took her lips off the straw and twirled it in her drink. "Do you come here often?" she said loudly enough to be heard above the racket.

  Now this he couldn't believe. He glanced around, half expecting some gorilla of a boyfriend to pounce on him. But none of the males staring her way looked like anything but males staring her way. "Not as much as I used to," he answered.

  "It's a nice place," she said, still twirling the straw in her drink. "So crowded though."

  "It's always like this in the summer." And then he got a whiff of her perfume. It smelled like cinnamon.

  "I hate crowds." She slowly looked around the bar. Probably looking for a better prospect. She was the kind of woman who could choose from any male in the building, attached or unattached.

  And speaking of attached–he was married, sure, but he was also separated, and he hadn't been laid in a long time, and the two of them were only talking, and she was such a knockout he was resigned to the fact that that's all that would happen anyhow.

  He could take advantage of her temporary distraction though.

  Dan discreetly checked her out, up and down. And man, her neck down was as fine as her neck up. She was wearing a sheer white blouse with a neckline that plunged down, exposing the top of two tanned breasts that were perfect–not too small, not too large. Even though the blouse showed a lot, one thing it didn't reveal was a tan line. And the jeans she had on must have been applied by a paint brush. She was a ten, no debate there. In fact, this babe was so hot, he could feel his own jeans getting tight.

&nbs
p; She looked to be in her early twenties, mid-twenties tops. Kind of young for him. Sure he ran every day, but there was no getting around the fact that he had a lot of years on this woman and he was feeling every one of those years right now.

  And he was out of practice, to say the least. Nervous as a pimply teenager. Though it could be the nerves stemmed from the fact that he was a married man with two kids, a man who had never once cheated on his wife.

  The woman leaned over and whispered in Dan's ear. "You like to go somewhere a little less crowded?" And you couldn't put on paper how she made that sound.

  He didn't know if it was guilt or if he was burnt out because of what he'd been going through lately, or both. Maybe he'd just plain lost his mind. Dan held up his hand so she could see the gold band on his finger. "I'm married."

  "That doesn't matter, honey." She ran a finger along the top of his shoulder. "We can still have a lot of fun. No one has to know."

  Heat flushed his skin from head to toe, making him feel like a goddamned Chinese lantern. Probably looked like one too. Dan took a deep breath and tried to slow his heartbeat from a dead run back to a jog. He could do it. Could go with her and probably have the time of his life. Problem was he had to live with himself the next day. And the day after that. "No thanks."

  She looked at him, her gorgeous face all scrunched up like she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "Come on, baby. We'll have a ball," she said in a low husky voice.

  Now he really was feeling like a jerk. Who the hell else would turn down something like this? Only a crazy man or a gay guy. He reached for his beer and almost knocked it over instead. "No thanks."

  Christ, he sounded like a broken record. But he couldn't seem to get any other words out of his mouth.

  The woman's eyes narrowed. She whipped around, her blonde mane flaring wide, and stormed out of the White Cap. He watched her go, along with half the other men in the place.

  Dan raised the glass to his mouth and killed the beer in one large swig. What the hell was that all about?

  It took all of two minutes after she'd left for him to start thinking that maybe he'd made a mistake. What the hell had he been afraid of? He was separated after all and that was almost the same as being divorced, wasn't it? He'd been offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and had blown it.

  Maybe something like her was just what he needed to make him feel the way he used to feel. Dan dropped a bunch of bills on the bar, slid off the stool, and maneuvered toward the exit, knowing deep down that it was only the beer motivating him now and that it really was too late– she'd be long gone. Because there was no way a woman who looked the way she looked would be loose and alone for long, especially on Ocean Boulevard.

  Dan stepped out of the White Cap and walked down the steps to the sidewalk. The night was clear–all stars and salt air. He looked up the street toward Ocean Boulevard and then down the other way toward Ashworth Avenue. Nothing. There were plenty of people at both ends of the street walking by, but none that resembled Miss Hollywood. Yeah, that's who she was–Miss Hollywood.

  Something or someone scuffed the sidewalk behind him. Before Dan could turn around, something hard jammed into his right cheek.

  "You ever see a .22 slug bounce around inside someone's skull?" The deep voice sounded vaguely familiar.

  "Not recently," Dan said.

  A car screeched to a halt at the curb in front of them and the rear door flew open like maybe it was operated by a deranged cab driver.

  "Then get in the car quick and maybe you never will."

  ~*~*~