The Sea Horse Trade

by Sasscer Hill

  I held an open palm to Diablo, and when his ears flipped forward and I judged it to be safe, I stroked the smooth silk of his neck. Diablo turned his head, butted his nose into my hand, then blew warm breath on my skin that smelled like peppermints and hay. Apparently, Orlando had already been at work with the candy the colt loved.

  “Nikki, you are doing a wonderful job with my horses. You, too, Orlando,” he said as the groom led La Bruja around the barn’s corner for her second turn. “Hold on a moment. I want to show you how pleased I am.”

  He thrust his hand into a pocket of his dark pants and withdrew two wads of bills. He handed the larger one to me. I stared, but when someone gives you a gift of cash, you don’t count it in front of them. You wait until later.

  “Thank you!” I said.

  “Gracias, señor!” Orlando said, dipping his head and sliding the money into his jacket. Then, he clucked to La Bruja, and he and the horse continued along the shedrow.

  As I moved to pocket my cash, Currito’s fingers lightly grasped my wrist and stopped me.

  “Wait, querida. I wanted you to have this. You see?”

  He turned my hand over. I’d been aware that some kind of clip held the money, but was surprised to see the other side widened into a half-inch silver band with the engraved letters CM. A stone glittered from a gold setting placed between the two letters.

  “This is beautiful,” I said, staring at the stone.

  “I wanted to make up for the lost purse money.” He smiled. “A diamond from the heart of Colombia. A young woman such as yourself should have a fine money clip. You will do well in life and should be given the gifts you need.” He leaned closer.

  The gift was really nice, but if the guy tried to kiss me, I might consider suicide. Then I remembered how angry he had been when Chakri refused his invitation to lunch. I gently pulled my wrist from his grasp, took a half-step back, and holding the clip near my face, pretended to study the stone.

  “Thank you, Currito. This is so sweet. You are a wonderful owner, and these horses,” I gestured at Diablo and Imparable, “are already a tremendous gift. I feel lucky to have them in my care.”

  Currito beamed, and I glanced at my watch.

  “Where has the morning gone? I still need to get Imparable out.”

  I had that filly tacked up and out of the barn so fast I was gone almost before Currito knew it. Moments later, when Imparable and I moved onto the track, the low sky overhead opened up, and tight drops of cleansing rain poured down.

  * * * *

  Currito was gone when we returned to the shedrow, and Orlando was silhouetted in the door to the tack room by the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He appeared to be counting his wad of cash.

  He saw me and grinned. “Currito,” he said, rolling the two “r”s in the name for longer than I cared to hear it, “he give me five hundred dollars! He the man!”

  I still hadn’t counted my stash. I was glad to have it, but gifts rarely came without strings. I didn’t want strings tying me to Currito. Orlando stuffed the cash back into his jacket and took Imparable to cool her out.

  After he finished, I hosed the filly down with warm water in the wash stall, scrubbing her coat with a big soapy sponge while Orlando held her. Imparable was scheduled for a visit by one of the track veterinarians, and I wanted her in good order.

  By the time she was dried and groomed, a woman veterinarian fresh out of vet school showed up at our barn. She was tall and thin and lugged a scanning device, which she used to recheck the filly’s leg that had showed heat a few days earlier. Jim always liked to check and re-check.

  “The leg still looks good,” she said. “But the scan will have to be read by a technician in our office.”

  If the report came up clean a second time, I would schedule a work for the filly. When the vet left, I called the blacksmith and scheduled an appointment for him to pull La Bruja’s shoes, trim her feet, and re-shoe her just before she raced.

  While Orlando and I finished up the morning, the rain gurgled gently in the gutters overhead. By the time we were done, it was late, and the constant South Florida breeze had strengthened to a wind, blowing the clouds away and releasing the heat of the sun. After one last look up and down the shedrow, I called the racing secretary’s office and entered La Bruja in the allowance race.

  “Do you think the race will go?” I asked, knowing if too few trainers entered horses and the secretary didn’t have the runners to make a proper field, the race wouldn’t run.

  “We’ve got quite a few in there already,” he said. “You should be all right.”

  I thanked him and disconnected. I’d wait for the “overnight” sheet that would be printed late in the day. At most North American tracks, when the secretary’s office finished filling the race card, they printed the schedule. It could be picked up in the racing office, or more conveniently, from the guard at the stable gate.

  After walking to my Toyota, I revved up the engine and the AC. Then I counted the money.

  Currito had given me a thousand dollar tip! The ten one-hundred dollar bills smelled new, looked freshly inked, and felt crisp. I slid the cash into my wallet and slipped the diamond clip into my pocket.

  Powering up my cell phone, I found two messages. Jim had called to let me know he’d made it to Georgia the night before and was heading for Maryland.

  “Don’t forget to enter La Bruja. Glad you’re there, Nik. You can handle those four horses.”

  Yes, I could. But could I handle Currito?

  There was a pause, then the message continued. “Call me if you need anything.”

  The message ended and I played the second one.

  “Nikki,” Klaire’s voice, “I have new information that concerns you. You and your friend need to hear this. Call me right away.”

  I did, but Klaire gave me nothing on the phone.

  “It is not safe, and it is better if no one sees us together,” she said. She referred to Carla only as “your friend,” as if using the name itself was risky. Her paranoia was contagious, and after she hung up, I found myself glancing around at the cars surrounding me in Gulfstream’s public parking lot.

  I cranked my Toyota up and sped away from the race track parking lot, driving the few blocks to the Sand Castle. Once parked there, I dialed Carla and told her about the call from Klaire. Two calls later, the three of us had agreed to meet in Carla’s room at the Diplomat Hotel.

  I should probably start a load of laundry and take a nap, but I wanted to shake off the case of nerves that had grabbed me after talking to Klaire. I turned on the radio looking for an upbeat song but landed instead on an old Stones classic about rape and murder being just a kiss away.

  CHAPTER 35

  I stepped off the elevator on the eighteenth floor of the Diplomat and walked down the carpeted hallway toward Carla’s room. Behind me, a second elevator chimed, and I heard the doors slide open. Still rattled, I glanced back, only to find a woman wearing a conservative brown pantsuit, head scarf, and large sunglasses emerging into the hall. What had I expected? A drug dealer with a machine gun?

  Walking toward Carla’s room, I heard the brush of cloth behind me. I darted another look over my shoulder. The woman’s dark glasses had a of lot eye-catching bling and hid almost a third of her face. Her hair was pulled up and hidden beneath the scarf. But something about her mouth rang a bell.

  “Klaire? I asked.

  A quick nod, then a finger to her lips and a hand wave that motioned me to keep moving.

  I would never have recognized her if I hadn’t looked twice and been expecting her at the hotel.

  “Is this necessary,” I whispered.

  “Wait until we are inside.”

  It seemed so silly, but I knocked on Carla’s door. Carla opened it immediately, and I stepped in with Klaire on my heels. Klaire closed the door fast.

  “What’s going on, Klaire?” I asked.

  Carla stared at Klaire’s disguise, then waved us toward the tabl
e and chairs on the balcony. The sliding glass door was open and salt air drifted in.

  “Nikki,” she said, “why don’t we sit outside?”

  “No,” Klaire said. “Inside. We could be watched out there.”

  Carla and I exchanged a glance, and I said, “Fine.” I pulled the desk chair around and sat, leaving them to the white couch.

  They settled, and Klaire removed her sunglasses. The lines around her eyes had deepened, but a tense energy filled her as she leaned forward and spoke.

  “I asked around about a party that might have been given the night Jade disappeared. I have friends in the…entertainment business. They’re no longer active, but they have contacts. There was a party like you thought. With the rap star, Dagger. My contacts, they gave me the name of a woman who attended. I went to see her. She didn’t want to talk, but I…convinced her.”

  Klaire had probably scared the woman to death with premonitions.

  Klaire startled me by saying, “I heard that.”

  “Heard what?” Carla asked, with a confused look.

  “Just go on, Klaire,” I said.

  Klaire’s lips pursed, but she continued. “The woman talked to me because I showed her copies of Jade’s pictures and told her the girl has been missing for days. I told her another girl was killed on the street. She knew what I was talking about. The party she attended was not a nice one. She finally admitted she saw Jade that night.”

  I leaned forward. We were getting close!

  “She saw her?” Carla clutched the sleeve of Klaire’s jacket. “Was she all right? Did the woman say?”

  “Jade was not hurt, but frightened and very upset. As I said, this was not a nice party. There was a lot of booze and drugs.”

  Carla’s mouth twisted, and her eyes darkened. “But what happened to Jade?”

  “The woman is not certain, and—”

  “Does this woman have a name?” I asked.

  “I can’t tell you her name or the name of my friends. I promised them. They need to be protected. You can’t tell anyone. These people are in fear for their lives.”

  A cold knowledge hit me. This thing was turning into a nightmare, maybe the same nightmare I’d seen when the nameless girl had been gunned at my feet.

  “But, Klaire,” Carla pleaded, “we have to tell Rick!”

  “You can’t,” Klaire said. “I won’t give up the name, I will deny knowing anything. I will stop helping you if you do that.”

  A seagull rose and hung in the air outside Carla’s balcony, riding the warm breeze. He seemed to stare into the room before emitting a harsh cry, dipping a wing, and plunging from view.

  Carla slumped against the back of the couch, and I caught Klaire’s gaze. “Can you at least tell us what this woman thinks happened to Jade that night?”

  Klaire exhaled slowly. “Some men at the party got Jade high. They took her.”

  Carla’s hands clutched wildly at Klaire’s arm. “What? They took her? Who took her?”

  “Two men,” Klaire said. “My contact said Jade didn’t look like she wanted to go with them, but was too out of it to struggle. They were…a little rough with her.”

  Carla’s hands fell to her lap. “Oh, God.”

  “Did this contact tell you what these men looked like?” My voice sounded as harsh as the seagull.

  Klaire glanced at Carla, who was rubbing the fingers of one hand mindlessly against the nubby white fabric on the couch. Klaire hesitated a moment, as if unsure what she should or should not say. Maybe she just didn’t want to cause Carla more pain.

  Then she met my gaze. “Both men were olive skinned, with long black hair and tattoos. One of them was the man Jade’s friend saw at the White Sands agency, the one who first mentioned the party to Jade.”

  Carla started to speak, but Klaire cut her off. “Let me finish. I won’t tell you the name of my contact, but I will give you the name of this man who worked at the White Sands.”

  I thought about Rick’s warning. He would already have the name of this man. Did Carla and I really need to know it? But I stayed silent, staring at Klaire, waiting to hear it.

  “Carla, I understand you have to mention this name to your friend Rick in Vice. Promise me you will say it’s a rumor you heard from one of the girls when you were locked in that police van. You only just remembered it. You cannot say you heard it from me.”

  “Of course,” Carla said.

  Klaire glanced at me.

  “I promise,” I said.

  “His name is Hector Gonzales. He’s not at the White Sands anymore. He cleared out after that raid. But he’s run girls out of Fort Lauderdale for years.”

  “But how can we find him?” Carla asked.

  “We can’t,” I said. “Jesus, Carla, Rick will kill us. Just give him the name. Tell him you just remembered it, like Klaire said.”

  Klaire rose and walked to the balcony doors. The wind had whipped up out there. The roar of the surf had grown louder while we talked. Klaire glanced back at us, and it hit me. She wasn’t reluctant to tell more, she was afraid. I could see it in her eyes.

  “I can’t stop what will happen,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” I didn’t want to hear this.

  “Dreaming is a gateway to another world.” Klaire faced the sea again, and I had to strain to hear her. “Especially that place where the mind connects to many things, those moments before the subconscious finally submerges again and the mind rises up.”

  “You’re creeping me out.” I said.

  “Nikki, wait,” Carla said. “Let her finish. You know something, don’t you?”

  Turning toward me, Klaire continued. “I will be honest with you. I don’t know how much credit to give these dreams. Nikki, you know I feel you are in danger, but this morning, I saw Carla, too. You are both heading down a road that frightens me, but I believe you must follow this road—”

  “To find Jade,” Carla finished the sentence.

  “Yes, so I will tell you what I know. This man, this Chakri? My contact tells me his company, Worldwide Enterprises, will have an event tomorrow night, in Fort Lauderdale. Gonzales will supply the girls.”

  “We’re going,” Carla said.

  “No,” I said. “We can’t!” This had to stop.

  “If you want to do something,” Klaire said to Carla, “buy a throwaway cell phone. I know someone with a voice changer. You know, those things that distort your voice? Use it and leave an anonymous tip for Hallandale Vice.”

  “Just one little problem,” I said. “Hallandale is not Fort Lauderdale.”

  “It will work,” Klaire said. “Both departments are in Broward County. Harman will be given access.”

  Was there no end to Klaire’s talents?

  CHAPTER 36

  Carla and Klaire were still talking about the throwaway and the voice distorter when I left for evening feed at the barn.

  When I’d finished with the horses at Gulfstream, I grabbed a sandwich from the deli on the boulevard. I planned to retreat to the Sand Castle and shut the world out with a hot bath and maybe a rerun of “NCIS.”

  Except Will was waiting for me outside my room. He was sitting with my neighbor Lou, who’d brought two folding deck chairs and a six pack of Bud from his room. Will had a beer in his hand and Scat the Cat in his lap. Lou appeared to be settled in for the next century. There was no sign of Stella. She’d probably already checked out Will and decided he wasn’t a threat.

  Will saluted me with his beer can.

  “Hey,” I said to them.

  Lou broke into his gap-toothed grin when he saw me. “Say, you want a beer?”

  “Please!” I turned to my room, unlocked the door, and threw my tote bag on the bed. Then I rolled my desk chair outside.

  Will popped a beer and handed it to me. It was cold and went down nicely. I sighed and sank onto my chair.

  “How’s Stella?” I asked.

  “She was here a minute ago,” Lou said.

&nbs
p; “Has she seen that fellow with the tattoo again?”

  “Oy, him. She’s always going on about something like that. Nah, he hasn’t been around.”

  “You’re talking about the man with the Poseidon tattoo?” Will asked.

  “Enough already with the tattoo man,” Lou said, before taking a long pull on his beer.

  But Will gave me a sharp look, and Scat suddenly jumped from his lap. She flattened her ears and darted into Lou’s room.

  “Yeah, him.” I said.

  “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  Stella appeared from a cut-through to the motel’s courtyard. She was carrying a basket of clean laundry. I took a sip of beer and watched her progress.

  As she got closer, she said, “I thought this stuff would never dry. They got schlock equipment in there. Somebody should clean the lint filters.” She reached us and set her basket down.

  “I ask you, would it hurt them to sweep the place? Lou, you gonna help me put this stuff away or drink beer all night?”

  “All right, all right,” he said, rising slowly. He bent over even more slowly to lift the laundry basket.

  Stella gave Will the once over. “My,” she said, “he’s a cute one.”

  “Stella,” Lou grumbled, “you gonna help me fold or what?”

  She followed him inside, and the cat slipped out before she closed the door to their room.

  “Now that we’ve had a look at marital bliss,” Will said, “why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

  I glanced around at the lengthening shadows. “How about we go inside?” I didn’t wait for him to answer, just stood and rolled my chair back into the room to the desk and sat on it again.

  Will followed, closed the door, and flopped on the bed. He looked at me perched on the desk chair and a slow smile spread across his face. “You could get in trouble letting me into your room, you know.”

  I had to remind myself to breathe. “Well, since you’re here, I can tell you what’s been happening with Carla and Klaire.” I launched into a description of my afternoon at the Diplomat.

  He listened, and when I finished, he said, “I like Klaire’s idea about the throwaway phone. It might be wise to keep your distance from this.” He studied the top of his beer can. “Now that we have a name, I’ll check with security to see if Hector Gonzales is licensed.”