Jim McGill 04 The Last Ballot Cast, Part 1

by Joseph Flynn

  The lure of cheap booze packed the place with both locals and tourists. People who hadn’t been anywhere in the state much less in the bar were telling tales of the gunfight at Mango Mary’s. Things got to the point where Alice thought if you could look past the unfortunate patrons who’d gone toes up in the conflict, drilling a handful of bad guys was a good business move.

  She was struggling to keep up with the drink orders.

  It didn’t feel right to her to bring on any help just yet in case, you know, the assholes who’d sent the shooters last time parked a truck bomb out front. Still, she was going to fall over soon if she didn’t think of some way to share the load with someone. As if he’d read her mind, Jackie appeared out of the crowd and stepped behind the bar with her.

  She hadn’t thought she’d see him again.

  The last time they’d been together had been at the marina slip where Jackie had supposedly booked passage to South America on that rich bitch’s yacht.

  Looking at the empty slip where Irish Grace had been moored, Jackie had said, “I cannot fucking believe this!”

  Like no woman could ever change her mind about him.

  Alice was having second thoughts about him herself right then.

  Maybe she should take a solo cruise.

  The idea of being one of two women out on the ocean with Jackie had been losing its appeal for Alice. Depending on what a guy’s tastes were, Alice could see him preferring Carina — Jackie had said that was her name — to her. And Carina sure as hell had to have more money. Alice could imagine Carina telling Jackie, what’d they need Alice around for, anyway?

  Alice would go to sleep one night and they’d throw her overboard.

  “Did you give her part of the charter fee up front?” Alice asked.

  “Hell, no! You think I’m stupid?”

  Lots of smart guys got stupid around women, Alice thought.

  The opposite was true, too.

  “So maybe she just got scared,” Alice thought. “Was too afraid to wait a minute longer, untied her lines and took off.”

  Jackie didn’t think so. Carina had an attitude. Like not only was she smarter than the rest of the world, she was willing to plug you where you stood, if it came to that.

  “You saw how she had a gun, didn’t you?” Jackie asked. “Did she look like she was about to wet her pants anytime soon?”

  Those two questions had made Alice flush with shame. Made her think of hiding under the bed in her own house. Daddy hadn’t raised her that way, act scared as a kid with a nightmare. He’d had a gun in the house, but after he’d died, Mama had asked her to get rid of it. After Mama’d passed away, too, she’d thought of buying herself a gun, but hadn’t acted on it.

  Well, she would now. Get herself a gun and go back to work.

  Jackie sat on the jetty with his legs dangling over the water.

  The jerk just couldn’t believe a woman had let him down.

  Alice showed him it could happen more than once.

  She had turned on her heel and walked off, being none too quiet about it.

  Now, here Jackie was again, helping her out, not saying boo about it.

  He’d colored his hair dark brown, got rid of all the gray. Must’ve paid somebody who knew her stuff. It looked pretty natural. Took about ten years off his appearance. She had to admit he looked pretty good, and just enough different the cops wouldn’t take notice of him right off. Not from the description she’d given them. Which had been deliberately vague.

  The cops wanted to sit down with Jackie and see if maybe he’d smoked one of those three guys wearing the Bus Milbaugh masks. None of the Milbaughs had carried any ID. The cops were working on the assumption they’d been a murder-for-hire crew. The guys with the badges weren’t that worked up about bringing charges against anyone for shooting their likes.

  After an hour of working so steadily they didn’t have time to chat — but Alice had observed Jackie putting every dollar of tips he received in the kitty jar on the back bar — they finally got a moment to take a breath.

  Jackie tapped a seltzer water for each of them.

  “I found her,” he told Alice.

  “Found who?”

  “Carina Linberg.”

  “Linberg’s her last name? What is that, Swedish or something?”

  Jackie frowned, thinking the question frivolous.

  Then he remembered his manners and shrugged, letting his displeasure fall away.

  “I don’t know, Swedish or German, something.”

  “She’s back here?” Alice asked.

  Jackie shook his head. “She’s in George Town, Grand Cayman.”

  “That’s not so far, but how’d you find out?”

  “I stopped in at the marina office, asked about her. She took off for the Caribbean, left her ports of call, satellite phone number. In case she needed to be reached before she came back.”

  “They told you all that?”

  The clerk had pulled the paperwork. Then Jackie had suckered him out of the office for a minute. Copied down the information.

  But he said, “Sure, why not?”

  “So you going to wait for her to come back?” Alice asked.

  “Unh-uh. I came looking for you so we could fly down to George Town, meet up with Carina and get her to sail us to South America from there.”

  Alice crossed her arms over her chest, a woman taking a stand.

  Her right hand was close to the P250.

  “I’m staying right here.”

  “Look, I’ve got her satellite phone number. I’ll call her. She’ll wait for us.”

  “What’s the number?” Alice asked.

  Jackie told her. Someone who could remember ten drink orders, Alice had no trouble holding a phone number in her mind.

  “So, you’ll come with me then? Leave as soon as you close up tonight?”

  Alice shook her head. “I’m staying. Right here.”

  “Why’d you ask for the phone number then?”

  “Wanted to see if you were bullshitting me.”

  Jackie’s frown was back, deeper than before.

  Alice dropped her left arm, let him see her right hand was on the P250 now.

  Jackie put his hands up and backed off a step. He didn’t want any trouble.

  “Can you tell me just one thing, if you’re staying right here?”

  “What?” Alice asked.

  “If I get Carina to sail me down to South America, let’s say we head off, say, to Colombia. We’re going along and something happens. A wave washes Carina off the boat. How long would it take me to learn enough to get me where I want to go?”

  “You start right in helping her and watching her close, see how she raises and strikes her sails, how she plots her course and uses her navigation equipment, how she starts the motor when she needs to, it shouldn’t take you more than a couple days to learn the basics — if you’re a quick learner.”

  Jackie looked pleased, happy to hear what Alice told him.

  Never thinking for a moment she’d handed him a load of shit.

  “I’m a real fast learner. It’s been a pleasure, Alice. I’m gonna miss you.”

  “Send a postcard,” she told him.

  He gave her a wave and said, “You ought to hire some help.”

  There was a break in the crowd as Jackie left Mango Mary’s.

  She saw him get into a black Porsche parked outside.

  After he drove off, she wrote down Carina Linberg’s phone number.

  Stuck it in a pocket.

  7 Prime Cuts & Sunsets — Grand Cayman Island

  When Welborn Yates suggested to Carina Linberg that he buy her dinner as recompense for all the obvious suffering he’d caused her, she laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. It took all of Welborn’s self-control not to blush. Managing that feat, he went on to reclaim the rest of his savoir-faire.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

  “No, I’ll take you to dinner.”

 
“A feminist statement?”

  “An economic one. I just negotiated a new contract. I’m flush.”

  Carina’s buying power and a craving for beef landed them at 7 Prime Cuts & Sunsets, a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton. Their table was on the terrace with an unobstructed view of the beach, the sea and what they were promised would be a spectacular sunset.

  Carina ordered a fourteen-ounce New York steak, after Welborn promised he would eat any portion she couldn’t finish. Having obligated himself that way, Welborn chose the Irish organic salmon weighing in at a trim eight ounces. Carina was drinking Cabernet Sauvignon; Welborn went with pinot noir. Their choices met with the approval of the waiter.

  Having a moment to themselves, Welborn said, “You’re looking well. The private sector must agree with you.”

  “More so this week than last. You look like married life agrees with you.”

  Unlike Willa Pennyman, Carina hadn’t needed to see a ring on his finger to know his marital status, leading Welborn to say, “You saw a media mention that my wedding was overshadowed by other events.”

  “I was in that line of work, still am to some degree. I read what happened at the vice president’s house while I was sailing to Key West. If I’m not being too nosy, it’s a bit early for you to be vacationing alone, isn’t it?”

  Welborn gave her a beat to work out the answer to her question.

  She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You’re here on business. You’re working a case for whom, the president or the Air Force?”

  Welborn leaned in — and a little warning bell in his head told him what he and Carina would look like to any casual observer, not to mention Kira. He tried not to be bothered. His motives were pure and he had no intention of closing the distance between himself and Ms. Linberg any farther.

  He said, “To what degree are you still in the news gathering business?”

  “I just re-upped with Sir Edbert Bickford.”

  Welborn sat back as if she’d just confessed to an Ebola infection.

  Carina leaned farther forward and seized a hand Welborn had carelessly left on the table. She pulled him back in her direction. It was only a lifetime of instruction from his mother on how to behave like a gentleman that kept him from making a struggle of it.

  “I am not working now,” Carina said. “I am having dinner with someone who is incorruptibly an officer and a gentleman. Someone, frankly, I wish was a bit of a rascal, as I’m certain he has an unspoken thing for older women.”

  The waiter arrived with aperitifs they hadn’t ordered. Lillet red for Carina, white for Welborn. The man had been considerate enough to announce his approach with audible footsteps, something that otherwise never would have happened.

  Setting their drinks before them, he said, “Compliments of the Ritz-Carlton.”

  Receiving their thanks, he departed silently.

  “Somebody thinks we’re dressing up the place,” Carina said.

  Welborn raised his glass, “To meeting each other again in better circumstances.”

  They touched glasses and sipped their drinks.

  Carina said, “If you can’t tell me what you’re doing, I understand. But I am happy to see you again. I’ve had the time to think about things. I realize how decently you treated me when everyone else saw me as a pariah. There were even times, afterward, when I thought I should call you. I would have, if you weren’t working at the White House, and if you hadn’t gotten married.”

  Welborn filed the implicit compliment away for later review.

  “You’re happier than you were a week ago because?” he asked.

  “I recently discovered I have a creative side to my nature. I want to tell stories. Loosely based on my life, but more about being a strong woman, generally.”

  They had to leave it at that for the moment as their dinners arrived.

  Everything was wonderful, and Carina finished her steak unassisted.

  The sunset was as stunning as it was promised to be. The dinner dishes were cleared. Complimentary after dinner drinks appeared, again compliments of the Ritz-Carlton.

  “Who are they buttering up,” Welborn asked, “you or me?”

  “I took a suite for a week. I wanted to sleep ashore in a big bed.”

  Welborn pushed unbidden images from his mind.

  “Another mystery solved,” he said.

  “There’s no rascal at all in you?” Carina asked.

  “It was pruned from the family tree generations ago.”

  “More’s the pity.” She picked up her glass and said, “To platonic reunions.”

  “Old friends,” Welborn responded, touching his glass to hers.

  They drank and watched the afterglow of the sun on the water disappear.

  “Would you like to hear what I’ll be up to in my professional life?” Carina asked.

  “I’d love to.”

  She told him about doing intermittent news reports on topics of her choosing for WWN, and then with far greater enthusiasm she told him about the idea for her TV pilot, Woman in Command, that Sir Edbert had approved.

  Welborn smiled. “Women usually are in command, as far as I’ve seen. My mother, the president, Kira.”

  Carina laughed. “You say that, but you look good enough to play a soap opera lead, and your manners are so smooth you’d make Emily Post hot. My money says you get your way at least half the time and you won’t be pushed into doing anything you don’t want.”

  “All that’s true. The rest of the time I just follow orders. So how does your story begin? Your TV show, that is.”

  Carina thought about that. “I had one idea, about a jealous military wife getting even with her cheating husband, but …”

  Welborn waited patiently for the creative process to play out.

  Carina continued, “I met these two characters in Key West recently, one of them possibly shady, the other a woman who may have gotten in over her head. The man wanted to charter my boat to take him to South America.”

  A tingle ran up Welborn’s spine, making the hair on the back of his neck rise.

  “The man, did you get the impression he’s running from something?”

  “I know he is.”

  Carina told Welborn about the incident in Mango Mary’s that had involved her and Jackie Richmond. She went on to tell him about the subsequent shootout at the bar. How Jackie and Alice came to her boat looking to take a long trip.

  Welborn thought about what he’d heard. He was disappointed to learn this Jackie Richmond had a good reason — one having nothing to do with him — to get out of town.

  Carina saw the chagrin on Welborn’s face.

  “What? You’re looking for someone? Hoped I might have stumbled on him?”

  “That would have been serendipitous,” Welborn said.

  Carina smiled. “I never heard anyone in the Air Force, cadet or officer, who talks like you. Are you sure you went to the academy?”

  “Positive,” Welborn said, his face falling as three lost friends came to mind.

  Carina told him, “No blues allowed at five-star hotels.”

  Welborn summoned a small grin. “Not a bad line for a country song.”

  “I’ll let you write it. Here’s another thought I had about Jackie Richmond on the way down here. I think he may have been hiding out in Key West before he got in the trouble at Mango Mary’s.”

  That idea brightened Welborn’s outlook. He asked, “Just a feeling?”

  “A couple of feelings. He’s one of those guys who has a high sense of self-regard without any visible reason for it. Like he’s got some big secret. The other thing was, I didn’t like the way he looked at my car. Gave me the feeling he might steal it.”

  Welborn leaned forward and took Carina’s hand.

  She laughed. “If that’s your idea of talking dirty …” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I thought he might even want to steal my boat. Conk me on the head and throw me overboard.”

  Welborn now took her
hand in both of his. Carina liked that, too.

  She said, “That’s why I made myself scarce when he wasn’t looking. Figured it was easier than shooting him. Sailed this way just so I could imagine what it would have been like to have him aboard. If you weren’t working, I’d ask you to come aboard, keep me safe from all the other bad guys out there.”

  Welborn said, “You’ve got great instincts as a storyteller. If I show you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

  “Are you talking dirty to me now?”

  Welborn released her hand. “Promise?”

  Carina nodded.

  Welborn took a folded piece of paper out of a pocket, spread it out on the table.

  “Is that Jackie Richmond?”

  Carina didn’t need more than a glance at the photo.

  “Take away the creases in the paper, yeah. He’s the guy you’re looking for?”

  Welborn nodded and explained the reason.

  “He killed three Air Force pilots?” Carina asked.

  “Them and some people whose cars he stole. He tried to take mine, too, but I got the cuffs on him. He made bail before we found out who he was.”

  “You mind if I write this down?” Carina asked.

  “Be my guest, to be used only after Linley Boland is tried, convicted and locked away.”

  “What kind of car do you have?” she asked. Hearing Welborn’s answer, she said, “Damn, that’s what I have, too.”

  Carina reached into her handbag, found paper and a pen and started making notes. She stopped and looked at Welborn. “You’re here because he’s coming here. How did you know that?”

  “Can’t say,” he told her.

  She wrote that down, too. “You know when he’s coming?”

  Before Welborn could answer, the phone in Carina’s handbag rang. The ID screen said the caller was Alice Tompkins. Carina answered. The conversation was brief. Carina clicked off.

  She looked at Welborn and told him, “Jackie will be here soon.”