by Ron Base
“No, I’m pretty much as dumb as I look. Now will you get out of the way?”
“This isn’t over. I’m going to spend the time it takes to get that money back and nail your ass.”
Markfield brushed past and walked off down the concourse.
38
The thirty-two-foot Cobalt, in all its gleaming black and white glory, was the replacement for Rex’s destroyed Former Actor. Ivory-colored seating swept elegantly away from a control panel that would have looked at home inside a space craft. The boat already had been christened Former Actor Too.
Tree along with Freddie and Todd Jackson and many island Chamber of Commerce members had contributed to a boat fund for Rex. A local marina happened to be sitting on the repossessed Cobalt and was willing to let it go at a fire sale price.
Now everyone gathered on the dock at Port Sanibel Marina to admire the new craft as crimson light fell along its shiny surfaces. At this time of the afternoon Former Actor Too appeared to float on a dream.
“It just goes to show you,” Rex said with as much excitement in his voice as Rex could muster about anything, “sometimes it’s not so bad when someone blows up your boat.”
“Yeah, you end up with a better one,” Todd Jackson said.
Rex turned to Tree. “Why do I suspect you’re behind this?”
“Not me, it was all I could do to blow up the first boat,” Tree said.
Rex, in a burst of affection Tree seldom saw from his old friend, hugged him. “We’ve been friends too damn long, that’s the problem,” Rex said in a choked voice. ‘We’re starting to be nice to one another.”
“Yeah we’ve got to watch that,” Tree said, unexpectedly moved.
Everyone crowded aboard the Former Actor Too. Rex broke out champagne and they all toasted Rex’s new boat, and, if truth be told, the happy fact of Rex in their lives. Rex again told the story of how he battled flames and high waves to reach the safety of Useppa Island after the Former Actor sank beneath the waves.
“At the end of it, there’s a great story to tell, that’s the important thing,” Rex said later when he and Tree had a moment alone. “But what I still don’t get is exactly who blew up my boat.”
“The police think it was Dr. Edgar Bunya, the guy you saw at the Visitors Center, although they have yet to find his body.”
“So he killed the guy on Useppa Island?”
Tree shook his head. “That was probably Cailie Fisk. Edgar got there with his goons looking for Elizabeth, found the body, and decided they didn’t want to stick around trying to explain things to the police. We showed up as they were trying to make their escape.”
“So they let us have it with a grenade. Kind of an overreaction, don’t you think?”
“Well, that was Dr. Bunya for you.” Tree said. “He probably saw me, worried that I recognized him and could place him at the scene of a crime, and decided to do something about it.”
“Then it’s all your fault,” Rex said.
“It usually is,” Tree said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past forty years.”
Later, Rex told everyone about Jack Palance when he was making I Died A Thousand Times and the funny way Jack had of peeling a banana.
As she listened, Freddie took Tree’s hand, tacit acknowledgment perhaps of how close she had come lately to losing this flawed husband of hers. He marveled for the millionth time at how fortunate he was to have this beautiful woman in a life that on this sun-drenched Florida evening was not so bad after all.
He was alive, and his son was not going to jail for the rest of his life. He’d had to do things he never imagined doing, and along the way sign a deal or two with the devil—or so it seemed. But at the end, the good guys lived to fight another day and the bad guys were mostly gone. Except he could not decide which of those categories he fell into. When you are trying to survive the charging lions, sometimes the line between good and bad got blurred. Francis Macomber would have understood that.
“Tree?” Freddie said as they turned onto the causeway headed back to Sanibel.
That brought him out of his reverie. “Yes?”
“You were far, far away.”
“I was in Africa, facing the lion.”
“What lion?”
“The one in the Hemingway short story,” he said.
“Oh, Lord,” Freddie groaned. “That’s such a lousy story. Macomber’s wife is awful. Imagine breaking down in tears just because your husband is smart enough to run away from a charging lion.”
“She sleeps with the white hunter because her husband is a coward.”
“That’s so incredibly dumb.”
“I read that story as a kid. All my life I’ve wondered, if the lion charged, would I stand my ground or would I turn and run?”
“So after all these years what have you decided, Tree?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you stand your ground or would you run?”
“I always thought I would run,” Tree said.
She smiled and said, “Smart man.”
“But I didn’t. To my absolute surprise, I didn’t run.”
They rode in silence onto the second span of the causeway. “Why do I think you’re not telling me everything,” Freddie said, finally. “Why do I think that somehow you were mixed up in that business in Key West.”
“What makes you think that?” Tree said.
“Because Elizabeth Traven was there, and my experience with you is that when she is in trouble, you’re not far away.”
“This time I wasn’t much help to her,” Tree said.
“You couldn’t find her,” Freddie said.
Tree hesitated before he said, “That’s right, I couldn’t find her. I looked hard enough, but in the end, I couldn’t find her. I’m not much of a detective, I’m afraid.”
Freddie gently took his hand and squeezed it and said quietly, “Tree, I don’t want my husband facing lions. I want my husband to run away from them because I love him and I want him alive.”
“And I didn’t have an affair with Cailie Fisk.”
“Cailie Dean,” Freddie said.
“I didn’t have an affair with her, either.”
“I never thought you did.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I know you do.”
“If I have you, I can confront anything. Even the lions.”
“We will take on the lions together,” Freddie said.
Tree said, “They think I’m holding on to nine and a half million dollars that doesn’t belong to me.”
Freddie stole a quick glance as she drove. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“I know you don’t like it when I keep things from you.”
“Who thinks you have nine million dollars?”
“Among other people, the police.”
“But you don’t have it. Do you?”
Tree didn’t say anything.
“Tree,” she said insistently, “reassure me that you are as honest as the day you were born—or at least as honest as the day I married you. Tell me you don’t have that money.”
Tree remained silent.
“Tree, say something.”
On San Carlos Bay pelicans swooped over pleasure craft leaving silvery wakes in the dying light of the day.
“Tree?”
Acknowledgments
Writing a third Tree Callister adventure was a joy thanks to the great team that sees me through every time I set out to do one of these books.
My wife Kathy Lenhoff not only makes life an endless wonder, she also serves as first reader and first line of defense when it comes to spotting her husband’s errors. Thank you, darling, for your love—and your willingness to keep reading draft after draft.
My son Joel Ruddy read an early draft and, as always, his enthusiasm keeps my spirits up and makes me believe I might be onto something. Erin Ruddy is not only the world’s greatest daughter, but working with her on the
novel she is writing, made me confront the shortcomings in my own book.
I am blessed with a team of first rate editors who constantly pull me back from the cliff edge. David Kendall meticulously went through the manuscript, holding my feet to the fire all the way; Bob Burt, as tough as an old boot when it comes to editing, uncovered plot inconsistencies and asked questions that forced me to dig deeper into the story and make it better.
Finally, Ray Bennett, formerly of the Hollywood Reporter, and now editor of London, England’s Cue Entertainment magazine, brought nearly fifty years of editorial experience to the final line edit of the book. Nothing is more comforting than knowing, after all these years of friendship, you’ve still got my back, Raymundo.
It’s becoming a November tradition for my neighbor Kim Hunter and I to drive to Florida to launch a new novel. We travel in his pickup truck as befits a bestselling author like myself. Kim is a great driver, but he resists my suggestion that he wear a chauffeur’s cap and hold the door open for me when I get out of the truck.
Bridgit Stone-Budd has done so much to give The Sanibel Sunset Detective adventures a distinctive appearance with her highly original covers. You’ve succeeded again, Bridgit, and your patience and professionalism with an author who doesn’t always know what he wants, is much appreciated. And speaking of patience, I have to mention Brian Frommer, the talented designer who does the posters for the Tree Callister novels. Despite the fact that I must drive him crazy, Brian always produces outstanding work.
My brother Ric has become such an integral part of the publishing process that I seriously understate the case when I say none of this would be possible without him. Not only did he provide the original idea for these books, but he oversees the printing process. He is a constant source of support and encouragement, and if that isn’t enough, he also served as technical advisor for all things nautical in the book. My sister-in-law Alicia, with endless good humor, puts up with me underfoot for weeks on end—and if she likes a Tree Callister novel, I know I’ve done something right.
Finally, as I finish this latest volume, I think of Brian Vallée, the publisher of West-End Books who was unstinting in his support of these novels, and who exited far too early. Thanks yet again old pal; you continue to be missed every day.
And I can’t thank Brian without also thanking his partner, Nancy Rahtz, who allows the West-End Book imprint to continue, headed for bigger and better things.
Don’t Miss The Previous
Tree Callister Novels
The Sanibel Sunset Detective
Everyone on Sanibel Island, Florida thinks former newspaperman Tree Callister is crazy to become a private detective. The only client he can attract is a twelve-year-old boy who has seven dollars with which to hire Tree to find his mother.
The Sanibel Sunset Detective Returns
The beautiful wife of a disgraced media mogul is certain her husband is having an affair. She hires Tree Callister to get the evidence. Then the mogul turns up dead on Sanibel Island, and not only is Tree’s client arrested, but he finds himself accused of being an accessory to murder.
Coming Soon
The Two Sanibel Sunset Detectives
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