“Are you hungry?”
“Let’s cruise out to South Beach and Indian Mound. At this time of the night, everyone will be home. Maybe we’ll find the SUV. An SUV says upscale neighborhood to me.” “Well, at least better than the one we just left.”
“I’m thinking there’s not great resale potential in that neighborhood,” I said.
“See,” Clay replied, “already you’re thinking like a realtor.” He headed south for the bridge to Cypress Island. “Marley thinks Jimmy is still alive.” He turned to look at me. “Do you?” “Yes.”
“She also thinks he was the one who broke into your apartment.”
“I don’t know about that. It would be crazy to hang about here. I think he’s far away.” “Maybe he needs the video before he goes.” I didn’t want to think about Jimmy. I was enjoying the heat and trying to decide if it was time to take a risk, time to let someone inside my defenses.
“Sherri, if Jimmy shows up and asks you to go with him, will you go?”
“God, no! Never!” I sat up. “Are you out of your mind?” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “I’m beginning to think so.”
Chapter 30
We drove slowly through the quiet dark streets of South Beach. “I’d forgotten that you can’t see most houses from the street. And nobody lets their cars sit outside overnight.” “Still, it’s a nice night for a drive,” replied Clay. I didn’t remind him it was cold as a walk-in freezer. As we drove along Beach Road listening to the music, I told Clay about Tony Rollins.
“Andy is an easy target. With Andy wrapped up nice and tight no one would look too close at what Tony is doing out at Windimere. I probably only scratched the surface of what Tony’s up to.”
“What if Tony Rollins doctored Jimmy’s boat?” He turned to look at me. “And you were out on that stairs alone with him.”
“It did occur to me.”
“I think . . . ,” he said and stopped. I waited. “I think you should go away for a while. Let this blow over.”
“Great idea, but I’m the chief suspect. Styles would just haul my ass back here.”
“Then you’ve got to be more careful. Go someplace secure.”
“Yeah, like the Shoreline?”
“God no. Don’t go to your mother’s. Hell, you could get knocked off by one of the neighbors.”
“The Shoreline isn’t that bad. It’s true the inhabitants are keen on taking the occasional shot at one another, but there’s only been one actual murder. I’m not sure whether they’re just bad shots or always too drunk to be accurate.”
“Stay with Marley.”
“What if you’re right? I don’t want to put anyone in danger. What if I stayed with Marley and someone came looking for me there? See what I mean? I think I should stay as far away as I can from everyone else to avoid . . . what’s it called, collateral damage.” “Nice image.”
“Well, my life’s beginning to feel like a war zone.”
“I’ve got an idea.” It took him a while to get to it. “I live in a really secure building. Stay with me for a while.” “Hey, are you making a pass at me?”
“No. No. I just want you to be safe. I’m going up to Cedar Key to look at a piece of property tomorrow so you’ll have it all to yourself.”
I tried to decide if there was some hidden meaning. Any other guy I’d know what was happening, but not with Clay. I could never read this guy. “Safe is an interesting concept.” Falling into bed with him probably would defeat the purpose of staying safe. “Now that Jimmy’s video is gone, there’s nothing else anyone could want from me.” “Don’t bet on it,” Clay said.
Clay took me back to the Sunset to pick up the truck and then followed me out to the Tropicana, parking and getting out of the Lexus before me, watching the deep shadows as I got out of Big Red. He was well and truly spooked.
“I’m going in with you,” he told me. No arguments allowed. Clay had never been to my apartment so at the top of the steps, I pointed to the right, and started to say, “Down here,” but Clay had already turned. I froze. Sure, he knew that I lived at the Tropicana but that was all he knew. Now he just walked right up to the end unit. Fear crept up my spine. How did he know which apartment was mine? Something was happening here I didn’t understand.
Clay waited outside my door. “Are you coming?” “It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’m fine now. You don’t need to come in.”
“I want to check inside. You don’t want any more nasty surprises.”
Yeah, like the nasty surprise I’d just had. Something was wrong here. Something was going to jump out and bite me, I knew that.
Slowly, looking for the hidden pain, I went to join him.
He took the keys out of my hand and opened the door. How could I doubt Clay? He wasn’t like other guys. He probably came by earlier to check out where I lived. And having him here suited me just fine.
He held the door wide and waited for me to go in. Then he followed me inside and locked the door behind us. “I’m going to have a look around.”
I smiled. “That will take you about a second and a half.” He took his time, looking in the closets and even under the bed while I lounged against the door frame watching him. “If I’d known you were coming I’d have made the bed.”
He grinned, “You and a rumpled bed are the things fantasies are made of.”
The sparkle in his eyes lit a fire in the pit of me. “Tell me more about these fantasies.”
He laughed and came towards me. His jaw had a slight darkening of late-night beard along it, making him look rough and dangerous. Rough and dangerous was just the way I wanted it. I flamed into one huge erogenous zone, itching for his touch. I reached out for him. “Jesus,” Clay said.
Who knew? Damn, but Mr. Cool turned out to be Mr. Hot as Hell and I couldn’t get enough of him.
It had been a long time for me and maybe for Clay, too. There were no words, no promise of forever, not even of tomorrow, no tenderness; just a driving need for fulfillment. Only bruising kisses and frantic hands on two sweaty bodies: demanding access and climax and turning the unmade bed into a battleground of desire.
Later came soft murmurs of pleasure and gentleness, guarded endearments, later when our pulses had evened out. But just as quickly as peace was declared, war broke out again.
I lay on top of the rumpled sheets letting the air dry my hot body. Outside, a tropical storm was unleashed. Rain poured down. The drought was over.
I watched Clay stretched out beside me in lightening shadows of dawn. I thought he was sleeping until he reached out and gently circled the tattoo on my right hip. “I hate that thing,” I told him.
“You could have it removed.”
“Why bother.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’ll want a new name there.” I raised myself up on my forearms and looked down at him. “Trust me, if I ever have anything else tattooed there, it’s going to say, ‘Mine.’”
His hand grew still. I lay back down.
“Come to Cedar Key with me.” His hand started caressing me again. “Have a little holiday and let the dust settle.” He’d been born in Florida just like me but there’s no sound of Dixie in his voice. Deep and rich, like melted chocolate, his voice sounds smart and important, like a newsman on CNN. I love the sound of his voice even when it’s saying things I don’t want to hear.
“Do you really have to go to Cedar Key?” I sound real down home no matter how hard I try.
“Yeah. There are other people involved. It’s important.” I wanted to ask, “And what’s happening in this bed isn’t?” Instead I said, “I’ll stay in Jacaranda. There are things I need to do.”
“Why don’t you go over to my apartment?” He held up a hand to stop me. “Just for a few days. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”
I turned it around and around, trying to see it from all angles. Lying naked beside him was one thing; this was another. “I’m safe here,” I told him.
He rolled away, got
to his feet and started dressing.
After he left I slept, but not for long. By nine I was up, restlessly pacing the apartment. Without Clay there, I started to doubt him, started to wonder. His slip of the night before took on a whole new meaning without his body to distract me. I was becoming desperate and obsessed with knowing what was going on. I needed to do something.
Evan showed up while I was under the truck, checking along the frame for a hidden video cassette. He kicked my foot sticking out from under the bumper. “Doing your own engine work now, Butch?”
I slithered out and smiled up at him. “Welcome home, Romeo. Where have you been?”
“We took the boat and sailed down towards the keys. Noble went home late last night and I slept over on the boat to do some repairs.”
“Cordelia was here yesterday. She thought I might have gone away with Noble.”
“The truth would be worse.” He offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet. “So how’ve you been?”
“It hasn’t been boring.” I bent over to pick up the piece of cardboard I’d been lying on. “I’ve been thinking that Jimmy likely had a copy of that tape out on the boat. Andy has one and I had one. Maybe there are more copies. I need that tape.”
He bit the inside of his cheek. Worry lines took away some of the freshness from his face, making him look less boyish. “Were there any pictures of Noble and me on that video?”
“Not that I saw.”
He sighed. He looked tired and depressed. Either the cruise hadn’t gone as he planned or he was really sorry it was over. Or he was very worried about something else. Whichever it was, I didn’t want to know. Other people’s love lives are just too stupid to bear and I had enough problems of my own.
Besides, there was something else on my mind. “Why did you really go out to Windimere?”
He looked embarrassed. He couldn’t keep eye contact. “It was stupid,” he said. He scuffed his toe in the crushed shells. “It was just a fit of anger.”
If Evan, a very proper sort of person, could go out there and risk embarrassing himself, what else could he do?
His eyes looked everywhere but at me. “I got out of bed mad on Monday. Jimmy was lousing up your life.”
Nice, but I wasn’t buying it. “And you were worried that he’d ruin Noble’s too. You’d do pretty much anything for Noble.”
He said simply, “Yes.”
“And Jimmy seemed to be a threat to Noble?”
“Noble met Jimmy coming out of the Jutebox. Jimmy said we were such a good story he was having trouble keeping it to himself. Jimmy thought it was a big joke.” Evan studied the undergrowth. “You don’t know how hard this is on Noble. Falling in love with me turned his life upside down. We met the first day of classes. It was a thunderbolt. Noble claims he didn’t even know he was gay. That Thanksgiving he went home to tell Cordelia he couldn’t marry her, their engagement was off. He never got the chance to tell her. Cordelia told him she was pregnant and they were married before he returned to school.” He looked at me, the misery of every lost love etched on his face.
“Noble didn’t think there was any other choice for him. Besides,” his eyes went back to studying the toe of his shoe, “he always wanted children, the one thing I can’t give him and if he leaves Cordelia, he’s afraid he’ll lose them.”
He looked at me and smiled. “But for one little sperm traveling upstream Noble and I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“And that’s pretty much the story of all of us. Jimmy wasn’t going to tell your secret.”
His jaw hardened. “Jimmy thought we were a big joke. You’ve told me a hundred times he was capable of anything.
He didn’t care who he’d hurt.” “Did you rig the motor on the Suncoaster?”
Chapter 31
I wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. A week ago I would have trusted Evan to the ends of forever: now I was calling him a murderer. We stared at each other in shocked silence, not believing we’d come to this.
A yellow cab swung into the parking lot, spraying shells as it braked beside us. We swung away from each other in relief.
“Sherri,” Eddy Ortiz called through the open window, his white teeth flashing in his dark face.
“Talk to you later,” Evan said. He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and jogged for the stairs.
“Evan,” I called. But he didn’t stop or look around.
Eddy got out of the cab.
“I have good news and bad news.”
“Gimme the good news first. I could sure as hell use some.”
Eddy folded his arms and leaned back against the car.
“I saw Andy.”
“Great,” I said.
He held up a hand. “But I couldn’t convince him to get in with me.”
“Bad. Where was this?”
“I was coming back from delivering a fare to the airport in Sarasota. He was out on Tamiami Trail near that big fruit stand. I called to him. He stopped. He knew me. I said you were looking for him, said I’d give him a ride but he took off.”
“At least we know he’s still around. The fruit stand is near the center where Marley and I looked for him. He may go back there.”
“Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“There’s someone else I’m looking for. He drives a white SUV with a license plate ending in OFF. The guy stiffed me for a bar bill.” A lie was simpler than the truth but it was beginning to scare me how easy they were coming. “Will you keep an eye out for the SUV?”
“Sure. I’ll tell the other guys to watch too.” And they would. They’d all been done for a fare sometime and would stick together on this.
“Thanks, Eddy.” A thought occurred to me. “Do you ever play golf?”
He laughed. “Not what you’d call golf. My brother, Angel, he’s almost an accountant now, you know.” His voice was full of pride. “We rent clubs a couple times a year out at Hidden Lakes and tear up some turf.”
“Good. I’ve got a little pressie for you. C’mon.” I opened the lid to the bed of the pickup. “There,” I said, waving a hand at Jimmy’s clubs. Alive or dead, Jimmy wasn’t going to need them and I didn’t want them around.
Eddy looked at the clubs and then looked at me. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope. I can’t use them and I wouldn’t feel right selling them.”
He rubbed his upper lip with the edge of his hand while his eyes searched the ground.
Had I made a big mistake here? He was really uncomfortable about something.
“Look, if you don’t want them, sell them. I don’t care. I just don’t want them around.”
He nodded and stuffed his hands into his back pockets. “Hey, Eduardo, what’s happening? Have I screwed up?” He laughed and looked up at me. “Nah, you didn’t screw up. Not by a mile. It’s just . . . well it’s just a surprise.”
“Good. For a minute there you had me worried.” I reached in for the bag but he beat me to it. He pulled the black leather bag out of the truck and slung the wide shoulder strap over his left shoulder. The red embroidery of Jimmy’s initials flashed at me.
“When I show up with these, my little brother’s gonna shit himself.”
“And if you want some lessons, I’m your girl.”
“How do I look?” he asked, standing stiffly upright with the bag over his shoulder and grinning like a fool.
“Like a cab driver with a set of Pings.”
“Not like a pro?”
“You’ve always been a pro, Eddy. You don’t need a set of used clubs for that.”
Clay called. Cool and reserved as if we hadn’t been pawing at each other like ravenous beasts.
“Just wanted to be sure you were still upright and taking nourishment,” he said.
“Had any more unwelcome visitors?”
“No one’s interested in me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a soft laugh. “I know at least one person you’ve turned upside down.”
I smiled as I said, “Strange, I haven’t thought of you once.”
“There you go, women are tougher than men.”
“Except, well except, I have this incredible itch.”
“Which I’d be happy to scratch. Just don’t have any strange visitors until I get back.” “They have the tape. It’s over.”
“Let’s just hope Jimmy’s tape was all they were looking for. I’ll be back tomorrow. Are you working?” “Mondays are always my night off.”
“Oh, yeah.” Like he’d forgotten. “Maybe we could do something,” he suggested. I roared with laughter. “What?”
“Yeah, let’s do something. You do it so well.”
“It’s a date.”
Before I headed for the squatter’s city behind the box stores, I picked out a nice clear picture of Andy. My plan was to ask anyone going in or out of the field if they’d seen Andy. How much trouble could that get me into right? Silly me.
The first person to come out of the wilderness was an elderly man who looked far too frail and ill to be living rough . . . or to be any danger to me. His left hand trembled and his gait was unsteady as he dipped through the fence and came towards me.
“Excuse me,” I said holding out Andy’s picture.
“Do you know this man?”
He rheumy eyes flickered over me. “Get lost, bitch.” He staggered away.
“Charming. It was lovely to meet you too.” This was a different crowd from the people David looked after.
Fifteen minutes later a pair of guys in their twenties came around the end of the building heading for the jungle. “Have you seen this guy?” I asked. I was a little more wary this time, staying way back and stretching out my arms to their limit. “Do you know him?”
They didn’t even look at it. “Yooooo, mama. I’d like to know you.” Baggy shorts moved towards me and his friend circled around to come up behind me. The fence on my left side held me trapped between them.
“I’m a cop,” I warned. “Don’t mess with me.” The guy facing me stopped. “You’re shitting me.” His eyes went sideways to his partner to see what he was making of me.
1 Margarita Nights Page 14
