Solomon's Compass

by Carol Kilgore

  For more than an hour he kept the binoculars trained on the areas surrounding Cecil’s. They worked as well in the light as in the darkness. He’d write a good report on them when he got back to New York. He drove ahead holding the binoculars, and by the time he reached Cecil’s, one of the doors was raised. No one lay hidden in the grass.

  He grabbed a zippered notebook from the backseat. His cover.

  The place stank of stale beer and cigarettes, mold and piss. A wizened old elf sat in a tall chair behind a stainless bar watching a morning news show on a television near the door. From his perch, the hoary relic could see both the television and the door. He glanced up and returned his attention to the cute blonde anchorwoman wearing lots of makeup.

  Jake walked past and placed his notebook on the bar. “You Cecil?”

  “Now just who the hell else would I be?”

  Crotchety old coot. “My name’s Jake. I’m working on a piece for a magazine about older Texans. Regular folks, not fancy ones or news-makers. I’m traveling around, stopping in small towns. Woman at the hotel told me I might find what I’m looking for out here. You have time to talk for a bit?”

  Cecil looked at him again. Squinted his eyes, cocked his head. Hair stood out all around. “Wait ’til the commercial.” He grinned. Cecil didn’t have any teeth.

  While Cecil lusted after the blonde, Jake unzipped his notebook, took out a cheap recorder and a pencil. A few minutes passed before a commercial break. Cecil turned around.

  Jake punched a button on the recorder, gave his name and date, and asked Cecil for his name. Cecil told his life story in three- and four-minute sound bites during commercials, except for one to make change and one to make fresh coffee. In the interim, Jake talked to others who came in. None matched the description of Bill Abbott, and none stayed around after finishing their coffees.

  At a quarter to nine, he started wrapping up with Cecil. “I really appreciate your talking to me. If it’s all right, I’ll stay around a bit, talk to a few others before I go on to my next stop.”

  Cecil nodded, his focus back on the television. Jake kept his same spot. At eight fifty-five a tan pickup rolled into the lot—the same color truck he was told Abbott drove. The man who got out matched Abbott’s description—Anglo, sixties, medium height and build, balding, fat nose. And a tattoo of a blue shark on his forearm. Like the other customers, he walked around the bar, poured a mug of coffee, and left a dollar on the counter.

  Jake introduced himself. “I’ve been talking to Cecil, and I spoke briefly with a few others. If you have time while you drink your coffee, I’d like to ask you a few questions, too.”

  “Why not. Cecil’s not much of a talker while the television’s on.”

  “Let’s go sit over here.” Jake led the way to a table in the center of the room. “What’s your name?”

  “Bill Abbott.”

  “Retired?”

  “I still work here and there.”

  Jake scribbled. “I met someone who knows you.”

  Abbott reached for his mug, but Jake grabbed his wrist. “Will Knox. Ring a bell?”

  The unscrupulous lowlife was cool on the outside, but Jake didn’t miss the half-second of fear that flashed in his eyes.

  “Nah.”

  Jake added a little pressure to his wrist. “I understand you know who wanted Mr. Knox’s truck bashed.”

  Abbott clenched his teeth and shook his head.

  “I can make it look as if you attacked me, and I acted in self-defense.”

  Abbott half-stood and reached for him with his free hand. Jake added pressure to his wrist, and the fear returned to Abbott’s eyes.

  “You’re going to tell me who wanted Knox’s truck trashed. If you don’t, first I’ll break your wrist. Then I’ll set you up to take the fall for assault. I’m going to count to three. You won’t be able to do much to defend yourself in jail with a broken wrist. Who knows if they’ll set it correctly. One.”

  “Motherfucker.”

  “Two. Th—”

  “Okay. Okay. Brady ordered it. Nate Brady.”

  Jake released his wrist. “Drink up. You’re coming with me.”

  “My truck.”

  “Will stay here. Tell Cecil you’re going to show me something and you’ll pick it up later.”

  He loaded Abbott inside his rental and had him buckle up with hands on the dash, the same as with yesterday’s goon. Inspiring obedience was about showing the other guy he meant business straight from the start. And not letting up on the attitude.

  When they were rolling, Jake called Upchurch. “It’s Jake Solomon.”

  “What’s up?”

  Jake gave him the location of the convenience store he’d stopped at this morning. “Meet me in five minutes.”

  Jake took the freeway and arrived in three. He’d just parked when Upchurch turned in and stopped behind him. The detective got out and walked to Jake’s lowered window.

  “Morning. What are you doing with that sleaze?” He inclined his chin toward Abbott, who mumbled something Jake didn’t catch, but probably fit his standard scumbag vocabulary.

  Jake turned to Abbott. “Tell him what you told me.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Watch your mouth, Abbott. You know what happens when I get pissed off.”

  Upchurch backed away a couple of steps. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  Jake lowered his voice. “If you don’t tell the detective what you told me, I’ll find Brady myself and tell him you’re the snitch. You want him to come after you? I’ll give him enough time before I tell the detective where to find him. And you. It’s your choice. Don’t make me count to three again. Oh, and you can walk back to your truck, too. Think you can make it before I can find Brady?”

  “You’re—”

  “Yeah, yeah. What’s your decision?”

  This time Jake understood the mumbled all right.

  Abbott gave Upchurch the information about Nate Brady.

  Upchurch nodded and looked at Jake. “Pick me up at the station for lunch. We need to talk.”

  Jake dropped Abbott at Cecil’s and headed for Rankin’s.

  Taylor stuffed another armload of paper into a trash bag. She’d talked to Zia and left a message for Glen, so now the waiting game began. Only a few more tables and she would be finished. The work was easier since learning Randy’s dementia had been an act and he had wrecked the house and salvage shop for a reason.

  A car pulled up outside.

  Dan raised his head. “Incoming.”

  The door opened and Jake walked through.

  She waved. “Over here.”

  He grinned. “Is it safe in here?”

  Dan sneezed. “Just barely, but we’ll get there.”

  Jake’s smile vanished. He’d seen her display. Taylor hustled to the front.

  He hooked his thumb toward the peanut can. “Are you crazy?” His voice was a whisper.

  “I’m setting a trap to draw out the killer.” Her voice matched his. “Word will get out, and he’ll show up to find his trophies.”

  “This is foolish. We’re dealing with a killer. You don’t have any way to protect yourself.”

  “I have my phone . . . and Glen on speed dial.”

  “A killer, Taylor. And you have the watch on your arm. This isn’t a Coast Guard rescue.”

  “So what do you suggest I do? Hide in a corner with a .357 propped on a stack of crab traps?”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Dan came up the aisle between tables.

  Jake draped an arm over her shoulder but didn’t say anything. The tips of his fingers played with Randy’s watch at her elbow. Bastard.

  “I was telling him—”

  Jake kissed the top of her head.

  “Ahh!” Dan clapped his hands. “I should have seen this coming.”

  He actually did a Snoopy dance, and Jake laughed. She plastered on a smile backed by fury.

  “Congratulations. Both of you. Taylor,
you should have told me. No wonder you’re wearing a glow today.” He sneezed again. “I’m going outside to get some of the dust out of my nose.”

  Jake hugged her closer. She wanted to kick him in the kneecaps except she couldn’t turn her body. As soon as the door closed behind Dan, he released her.

  “How dare you make disparaging remarks about the Coast Guard.”

  “I’m not disparaging anyone. The work you do is important. You save lives. But you don’t deal with killers every day, people who pull the trigger for money or jollies.”

  “Excuse me. We do save lives. But we also carry live rounds. We perform armed boardings. We participate in joint operations with every other military service. Illegal trawlers, drug runners, migrant boaters—they all believe they make their own laws at sea. It’s our job to show them a different scenario. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t put my life on the line every single day.”

  “I meant no disrespect. It’s different when it’s one on one. That’s my job. I’m here to protect you, and I can’t do that if you go around setting traps. The killer will scoff at your display, Taylor.”

  He was making her madder by the minute. “Scoff? Randy’s murderer is not going to scoff when he sees this buckle. Or this shirt. Oh shit!” She flung her hand in the general direction of the counter before covering her mouth with it.

  “What?” Concern flooded Jake’s face.

  “I’ve been so busy here, I haven’t called about the shirt.”

  The door opened and Zia entered, followed by Dan. “I think I got the sneezing out of my system, and I found Zia the Beautiful. She said you called her about looking at our assemblage of items no one should live without.”

  Everyone laughed, Taylor included, although she kept her attention on Zia. “I did. Only I didn’t expect you here so soon. Make yourself at home. Look around. Except for the two tables right behind this counter, the rest is clear of trash and broken items. Grab anything you want for free now or pay top dollar in an antique store later.”

  “Except Echoes. Zia and I have a pact.” Dan placed a hand on Zia’s shoulder.

  Echoes. The code. After Zia left, Taylor would ask Dan about it.

  Zia ignored Dan’s hand and moved closer to Jake. “Are you looking for items for that condo I showed you?”

  He smiled. “Still thinking.”

  She patted his cheek. “Don’t think too much.”

  Taylor wanted to slap Zia’s hand away. But Zia had no way of knowing about Taylor’s new relationship with Jake. Not that it would’ve mattered. Zia was Zia. Jake winked at her as Zia swept toward the back of the shop without a glance at the display.

  Dan stood wide-eyed through the whole exchange. He turned to Taylor. “Girlfriend, you are the poster girl for restraint. Kudos.” His voice was soft. He favored her with a deep nod.

  “I had a moment before I remembered it was Zia.”

  “She even flirts with A.J.” Dan sighed. “Back to work.”

  Jake took Taylor’s hand for the few steps to the door. “I’ll check into the shirt if you want and let you know what I learn. Upchurch asked me to meet him for lunch, or I’d hang around.”

  “Good. Tell Glen what you know. Is it about your meeting this morning? About Randy?”

  Jake leaned his head toward the back of the shop. “We’ll talk later.”

  He walked out, and she got as far as her display when her phone rang with a private number. She stiffened. “Hello?”

  “It’s Jake. I just pulled out of your driveway. Walk outside to talk.”

  “One second.” She moved into Dan’s field of vision and raised her voice. “I have to take this call. I’ll be right back.”

  Neither he nor Zia looked up. He waved her out.

  “Okay, I’m outside, walking toward the driveway.”

  “Keep looking toward Will’s, and walk about halfway down your driveway before you turn around. By then I’ll be out of your range of vision. The fewer people who know about us, the better for you.”

  She understood what Jake meant. If no one realized they were involved, no one could use one as an emotional or real hostage against the other. Maybe her subconscious had guided her non-response to Zia’s flirting. The only reason Jake had opened up with Dan was to distract him and keep her from telling him about the shirt and buckle. She understood that, too.

  “Got it. You have news?”

  “Yes, but it’s only a lead. I’ll learn more when I talk to Glen.”

  “So tell me.”

  “You have the right to know. But you need to play your cards close. Can you do that?”

  “Jake. Pay attention. Did we not just have this conversation? True, I’m not a SEAL. But I com—”

  “Jesus H., Taylor. This has nothing to do with your life in the Coast Guard.”

  “You’re wrong. It has everything to do with my life in the Coast Guard. I hold a command position and have for years. Years, Jake. It’s who I am. I’m not some bimbo who’s going to hang on your every word and do exactly what you say just because you say it. I have a brain, and I use it to draw my own conclusions and make my own decisions. I respect your input, and I expect you to respect mine.”

  “You—”

  “I’m not finished. I’m responsible for the actions and safety of one hundred men and women both in port and at sea. For a cutter, a helo, and small boats. Most of our missions are drug interdiction or Homeland Security related. All are classified. Did you get that, Jake? So to answer your question, yes, I think I can play my cards close to my chest. And I can also make quick decisions. I’ve been making those for years, too.”

  Sweet mother of God. Taylor rubbed her forehead. How the hell had she fallen head over heels for such a jerk?

  “I apologize, Taylor. You’re right.”

  She raised her head. Had Jake really said she was right? His tone hadn’t been condescending, either.

  “I’m accustomed to telling people with no training how to protect themselves. I can’t tell them about what’s going on behind the scenes because either they don’t want to know or they don’t understand that what I tell them is confidential and, if heard by the wrong person, could get them killed. I know you aren’t like either of those examples.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you’re a woman. A very desirable woman. As a man, I want to protect you. It’s what men do—hardwired in our DNA. When that section of my brain fires up, the rest of me tends to forget you’re a capable military officer who will outrank me as soon as you add that fourth stripe.”

  Jake’s words made Taylor feel special. She hadn’t felt special in a long time.

  “Can you forgive me for questioning your abilities?” He sounded honest and sincere.

  Taylor smiled. “I forgive you. I may have overreacted a bit.”

  “We’re just getting to know each other.” Jake’s voice perked up. “I haven’t gotten over seeing your killer bait. It took me by surprise.”

  “Good. I want my display to startle the killer, too.”

  “I understand.”

  “Let’s start over. Tell me your news.”

  “The lead I got points toward Nate Brady.”

  “I knew it. Those mean little pig eyes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Of course we don’t know. It’s a lead. But Brady has mean little pig eyes. He looks like he could kill.” Shut up, Taylor. He’ll think you’re one of the bimbos you said you weren’t.

  “It always pays to trust your instincts.”

  Yes!

  “Promise me you won’t be at the shop alone. I’m not saying you’re not capable. I would ask that of anyone who presented himself as a target.”

  “I promise. When Dan leaves, I’ll go back to the hotel. But I can’t tell him about my plan. He would be too nervous. And tell someone.”

  “Agreed. We’ll get through this, Taylor. Stay alert.”

  “I will.”

  “By the way, I know why you chose Sleepy today.” Hi
s voice dropped in pitch, and became a seductive growl in Taylor’s ear.

  Warmth flowed through her, and she matched her tone to his. “Three hours’ sleep isn’t very much. But I wouldn’t trade it for eight.”

  “Neither would I.”

  If she were a cat, she’d stretch and purr. They’d had their first meeting of minds without a huge blow-up argument. And make-up phone cuddling. “I’m turning around now.”

  “If I find out more about Nate, I’ll let you know. Keep in touch with me.”

  “Okay. I’m going back inside.”

  The shop door opened and Zia came out.

  “Hey, Zia. Find anything?” Taylor pressed her phone off and returned it to her pocket.

  “No. I’m a fan of estate sales, though, because you never know what you’ll find. I was hoping something would reach out and hug me, but the only one that did was a table Dan already has dibs on.”

  “I gave him first shot. If he hadn’t been here to help, I would have thrown up my hands in frustration the first day. He’s a godsend.”

  Zia hugged her. “Thanks for asking me.”

  Back inside, Taylor went into full speed cleanup mode and finished the first table. “One more to go, Dan, and the trash will be history.”

  “Let’s go celebrate. I want to take you to my sister’s restaurant for lunch.”

  “I’m not dressed to go anyplace.”

  “You and Sleepy are fine. Trust me. This is Rock Harbor, and Julie is my sister. When we come back, we’ll finish.”

  Dan washed up first so the air conditioner could begin cooling his car. She grabbed her bag and locked up.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Juliet’s Tango.”

  “By your gallery?”

  He nodded, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the drive.

  “Dan, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s about the names of your gallery and shop. Bravo. Echoes. Your sister’s tearoom.”

  “Juliet’s Tango. Her husband owns Mike’s Golf.”

  “Thank God!”

  “What?”

  “I was imagining some sort of weird conspiracy.”

  Dan laughed so hard he shook all over.