by Paul Carr
“Shouldn’t I call the police?” Harold had panic in his voice.
“No, no, don’t do that. The guy who did it is long gone. You can handle this. I promise, I’ll make it worth your time.”
“What do you want me to do if I find her?”
“Just get her out of there and call me.”
“My shift doesn’t end for another half hour.” Harold lowered his voice and continued, “but I can leave now, and nobody’ll notice.”
Sam gave him his telephone number and hung up. He made a sandwich in the galley and ate it leaning against the sink, then went to the lounge and dozed in a chair until the phone rang. Harold Shakes.
“I found her where you said, tied to a chair.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she seems okay, other than being starved and dehydrated.” Harold’s voice trembled. “You sure I shouldn’t call the police.”
“No, that won’t help anything. You rescued Amy and everything’s going to be fine. Put her on the phone.”
The phone clattered, as if dropped, and Amy came onto the line. “Where’s J.T., Sam?”
Sam told her what had happened and could hear her crying.
“He’ll be okay, though. It’ll just take awhile.” Sam had his fingers crossed when he said it. “I’ll come down there tomorrow and we’ll get J.T.’s things and fly back together.”
She sobbed, said, “Okay,” and put Harold back on the line.
Sam asked Harold if Amy could stay with him for the night, just in case Grimes had escaped getting on the shark menu. Harold said he would be glad to take Amy to his place, and seemed a little more pleased than he should have been.
SAM THOUGHT about Prince Alfred; they had left him with Jack Craft when they went to Grand Cayman. He telephoned Jack, brought him up-to-date on J.T., and asked about the dog.
“You know, it was the funniest thing. I took him to the beach with me a couple of times when I went fishing, and the last time I did, a teenage girl ran up and claimed he belonged to her. She said he’d gotten lost when they moved across town.”
“You let her take him?” Sam felt a knot in his stomach.
“Well…yeah. I could tell he knew her, and when she left, Prince Alfred looked up at me, as if to say goodbye, and then followed her away.”
“Huh.”
“You don’t sound too happy. I thought you’d be glad we found his owner.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s the best thing.”
Sam hung up the phone. A lot of grief to digest in one day. He got up and poured a large brandy.
Chapter 29
SAM CAUGHT the first flight out to Grand Cayman the next morning. He took a taxi directly from the airport to the hotel and collected his things, and then called Harold and asked him to bring Amy over. When they arrived, Sam gave Harold several large bills for his gallantry. Harold made noises about not wanting the money, but Sam knew he probably needed it and insisted.
They went to J.T.’s room and packed his and Amy’s things. Harold followed Amy around as if he might be in love, but she didn’t seem to notice. When they had almost finished packing, Amy asked him if he would go ahead and carry some of the bags to the lobby.
Harold hustled the bags out the door and Amy said to Sam, “Grimes left the gold items he stole from J.T. in the house where he tied me up.” She winked. “I have them in one of my bags.”
They checked out of the hotel and Harold took them to the airport. He parked the car and walked them into the terminal where they said their good-byes.
Harold had a forlorn look when they ambled to the counter, and Amy stopped and said to Sam, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
She hurried away and called to Harold. He hadn’t gotten to the door. Sam couldn’t hear what she said, but saw Harold’s face light up, and then Amy hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. She returned to the counter while Harold stood there with a smile on his face, his fingers touching his lips.
When they arrived in Miami, Sam took Amy to Carling Research. He tried to prepare her for what she would see, but it didn’t help much. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at J.T. lying there like a corpse, tubes running from his arm and side, the machines making industrial noises by his bed. Sam took her home, and she stopped crying by the time they reached her apartment. She said she would pack a bag and go stay with J.T. in case he woke up.
Three days later, as Sam finished breakfast in his galley and poured another cup of coffee, he felt someone step onto the boat outside. He glanced through the peep hole, saw Jack Craft with a newspaper under his arm, and opened the door.
“Good morning,” Jack said. “How’s J.T. doing?”
“Not much change. I spoke with Amy last night and she said he’s still under.”
Jack sighed. “That’s too bad. J.T.’s a good man.”
Sam didn’t think Jack had come by to ask about J.T.
“I was just about to have a cup of coffee outside. How about joining me?”
“Sure, I could use another cup.”
Sam poured the coffee and they went onto the deck and took a seat under the awning near the stern.
Jack laid the newspaper on a table between their chairs and pointed to a story.
“You might like this.”
Jack had a twinkle in his eye, and Sam looked down at the headline: Gideon Barge Missing. He picked up the paper and read the story about how Barge had merged his holding company with another international conglomerate, and now had neither a controlling interest nor a prominent position in either company. The business world wondered why he would do such a thing, but no one had been able to reach him since the merger. Reported missing a couple of days later, none of the executives in his former company seemed to know where he might have gone.
“What do you think happened?” Sam said.
Jack shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Hard to say.”
A woman on the boat in the next slip over came out and threw bread crumbs in the air. Several gulls appeared, grabbed the bread, and squawked at each other. Jack shook his head.
“You know, she really shouldn’t do that.”
“Everybody does,” Sam said. “The gulls love it.”
Jack nodded and smiled. “Yes, they do.”
“Do you think they’ll find Barge?”
Jack took another sip of coffee and looked at the birds. “No, they probably won’t.”
****
SAM WENT to see J.T. every day, but the situation stayed the same. He stopped by Carling’s office a couple of times, too, but missed her. Then, eight days after J.T. had been shot, at 7:00 in the evening, Carling called Sam on his boat and said J.T. regained consciousness and asked for some food.
“Is Amy there?” Sam asked.
“She went home to shower before he awoke, but said she’ll be right back.”
Sam arrived a half-hour later. J.T. sat in his bed having a meal from a tray. Although thinner than he had been, he didn’t look too bad.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Sam said, smiling. “How’re you feeling?”
J.T. laid down his fork and grinned. “I think I’ll live.” The grin faded and he said, “I remember most of what happened, and I really appreciate you saving my life.”
Sam shrugged. “You would’ve done the same for me. I’m just glad we both made it.”
J.T. nodded. “Still, I won’t forget it.” He picked up his fork. “You know, this is pretty good food for a hospital.” It looked like filet mignon. “They said I’ve been here over a week. It seems like just yesterday that Grimes took us on that seaplane.”
Sam told him about Harold rescuing Amy. “She’s been staying here with you most of the time.”
J.T.’s face lit up and he put the plate aside. “No kidding?”
“No kidding. Carling said she went home a few minutes ago, but she’ll be right back.”
The door opened and Amy came in, smiling. She eased to the bed, leaned over the plastic tubes and kisse
d J.T.
Sam stepped out the door and met Carling in the hall.
“You saw him?” she said.
“Sure did. How long before he can leave?”
“Maybe a day or two. He’s out of danger now.”
A long silence lay between them while they looked into each other’s eyes. Finally, Carling glanced down the hall and said, “Well, if there’s nothing else....”
“Wait...I....”
A suave man wearing a navy blazer came around the corner. He looked at Carling, glanced at his watch and said, “We’re going to be late.”
Carling smiled. “Give me a minute.”
Suave Man glanced at Sam, then back at Carling.
“Okay, but they won’t hold the reservation.” He paced in the hallway.
Carling turned back to Sam and squeezed his arm. “What is it?”
Sam glanced toward the man. “Uh...nothing. You’re busy, I’ll talk to you later.”
Carling stared at him for a couple of beats and said, “Wait here.”
She went and said something to Suave Man. He stepped back, gave her a stern look, turned, and hurried around the corner.
Carling came back and said, “Okay, now, tell me.”
“I just wondered if we could start over, maybe go out sometime.”
“Sure, how about right now?”
“I thought you had a date?”
She shrugged. “I told him I’m going out with you.”
****
AMY PICKED up J.T. the next day and took him to her apartment. Two days after that, they met Sam and Carling at the marina restaurant. They had drinks and dinner, and then talked about Amy’s plans for a pet grooming business.
“By the way,” Amy said, “whatever happened to Prince Alfred?”
Sam relayed the conversation he’d had with Jack, about the dog’s owner showing up on the beach.
Tears in Amy’s eyes glistened in the restaurant lights. “So I guess we won’t ever see him again, huh?”
“Guess not,” Sam said.
That seemed to cast a pall over the conversation, and after a period of silence Sam asked J.T. to go out to the dock with him.
J.T. held his gaze for a couple of seconds and nodded. He winced as he got up from his chair and touched his chest where the bandages still covered his injuries.
Outside, a school of skipjack bounced across the water. A pelican perched on one of the timbers and looked down at the fish.
J.T. leaned on the rail, squinting at the sun on the horizon. Sam pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to J.T.
“I wanted you to see this.”
J.T. looked at the paper, a courier receipt dated the day after Sam retrieved the genuine statue from Lenny Berne.
“This says you sent something to a museum in Mexico City.” He glanced at Sam. “The statue?”
Sam nodded and J.T.’s eyes narrowed.
He handed the paper back to Sam, looked down at the schooling skipjack, and shook his head.
“Man, I knew you’d do something like that. I just knew it.”
“I decided the legitimate owner should have it back.”
J.T. drew in a breath and sighed. “You know what you remind me of?”
“What’s that?”
“That bird over there, looking down his nose at those fish, like he’s better than they are.”
Sam knew the pelican just had his sights on a meal, but thought it might not be a good idea to argue with J.T. right then.
“And I’ll tell you something else,” J.T. said, his face red and his voiced pitched higher than normal. “You know that night on the flight line when Candi shot La Salle?”
“That’s a picture I won’t forget for a long time.”
“The reason I didn’t come out there right away is, when I heard the shot, I had driven a mile up the road with the other statue.”
Sam had suspected something like that, but it still surprised him to hear J.T. say it.
The pelican flapped its wings, lunged into the water, and came up with a fish in its beak.
J.T. looked at Sam, shook his head, and turned and walked back into the restaurant. Sam followed him in and J.T. told Amy they had to leave. Amy gave Sam a questioning glance, picked up her purse and hurried away with J.T.
J.T.’s angry, but he’ll get over it, and if he doesn’t, that’s his problem.
Chapter 30
SAM WENT to the marina office on a hot Thursday the first week in June and checked his mailbox. Although he had several envelopes addressed to Occupant, one had Candi’s name handwritten in the upper left corner. He opened it and found an invitation to a party the following month to celebrate the grand opening of The Casino on New Miami. Sam remembered what Jack Craft had said about not actually having a gambling license, and wondered how La Salle had gotten around that.
The invitation indicated that the attendees would be a small group of close friends and associates. Candi had also sent a check for more than Sam had expected. There was no note, and Sam was disappointed for a moment, but realized none of her words would have made anything any better. He put the invitation on the table by the phone and stood there for a minute, wondering what might happen to her.
La Salle might have given her an equal share in the company, but she had already shot him once, and might try it again some day. He would never trust her, and as soon as he found that recording, Candi would be history. She would take the long way down, maybe join the one-armed man at the bottom waiting for a connecting flight. Sam wished it had turned out differently, but he didn’t know anything else he could do for Candi Moran. He got a beer from the reefer, stepped out on deck and took a seat in the shade.
Jack dropped by a little later to talk about a new scheme he had in mind. “You’ve heard of Archibald Schmidt, haven’t you?”
Sam nodded. “It was in the news. The Feds went after his company and he disappeared with a few million in cash. You want a beer?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Sam got two fresh beers, came back and handed Jack one of them.
Jack opened the bottle and took a long drink. “About this Schmidt guy, one of my contacts told me he’s hiding in the Cayman Islands. I’ve got his location and some details about the money he stole.”
Sam glanced at him. “You’re going after the money?”
Jack beamed and drank more beer. “Yes, I feel it’s my duty. I’ve got a role for you, too. Could be very lucrative.”
Sam shook his head. “I think I’m going to retire.”
“Retire? You’re twenty years younger than I am.”
Maybe more than that, but he didn’t want to get into that discussion. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m tired of being shot at and looking over my shoulder.”
“What are you going to do for money?”
“I have some packed away. It should last awhile.”
Jack grinned. “Okay, fine. It’ll be at least a month before I do this, so just think about it.”
“Sure, but don’t count on me changing my mind.”
Jack nodded and blinked a couple of times. “Yeah, well, you mind if I ask J.T. about it?”
“Not at all.”
Jack left and called back a few minutes later. He said he’d spoken with J.T., and J.T. wouldn’t do it unless Sam would.
****
J.T. CALLED the next day to tell Sam about selling the gold.
“I did better than I thought. You can still have your share if you want.”
“No, that’s okay, you keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay...well, I also wanted to apologize about the other day. You know, the stuff I said.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“I guess I felt guilty about running out on you like that.”
“Yeah, well, everybody makes mistakes.”
An awkward silence stretched on for several seconds before Sam said, “Why don�
�t you stop by and we’ll have a six-pack and catch some fish.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. How about this afternoon?”
****
A FEW days later, Sam and Carling flew to Cancun and stayed three weeks. The sun was hot, the beer and margaritas were cold, and the nights were steamy. Worries about gold on a ditched airplane and a crook named La Salle slowly faded into the tropical sunset. Candi Moran still slow-danced across Sam’s subconscious, but even that happened less and less as the days passed and the surf lapped at their feet.
They returned to Miami the day before the grand opening of the casino. Carling had to get back to the medical business, and Sam wanted to do some work on his boat. He would replace a couple of boards on the rear deck that had gone soft and put on another coat of varnish.
Sam unlocked the hatch, went into the lounge and looked around. Nothing had changed. The place had a musty smell until he turned on the air conditioner and ran it for a few minutes. The invitation lay where he had left it by the phone. He opened it and read it again. Visions of Candi and La Salle hosting the event together caused his stomach to ache. He tossed the invitation in the trash, got a cold beer from the reefer and sauntered out onto the deck in the shade of the awning. The repairs could wait another day.
Sam heard a scream somewhere down the dock, then a rumbling sound that seemed to get closer by the second. He looked around just in time to see Prince Alfred run across the gangway. The dog leapt into the chair next to Sam and barked at him.
Sam grinned. “Hello, little buddy. Where have you been?” He scratched behind Prince Alfred’s ears and the dog barked again.
A teenage girl ran across the gangway and yelled, “Beamer!”
The dog raised an ear.
Sam stood up and the girl gave him an uneasy look.
“Did you see my dog?” She took a couple of deep breaths, winded. “He just ran this way.” Then she noticed the dog sitting in the chair and walked over to him. “There you are. What are you doing here?” She patted him on the head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. This is the second time he’s run away toward this marina.”
“We’re old friends,” Sam said. “I found him in the parking lot of a restaurant a few weeks ago. Jack told me you saw him on the beach and took him home.”
