The Color of Sin

by Paul Westwood

  Chapter 10

  For a change of pace, I took the truck out. By the time I was on the streets, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The neon light was on, indicating that Vegas was open for business. I drove carefully, staying low and slow in the right lane. Once I was out the city proper, I went through a number of twists and turns before finding myself in Boulder City. After a few miles of suburban hell, I was driving in Lake Mead National Park, a canyon carved by the Colorado River and now flooded by the Hoover Dam. The houses were gone and it was only me, the moon, and my fellow travelers out in the desert twilight. The black asphalt cut through the scrub and rock; a modern Chisholm trail.

  Thanks to the GPS unit I carried, I was able to find the resort. I got off the main road. After taking a gravel two-track, I went up a small incline, past a wooden sign with yellow lettering, and then Lake Mead was finally visible. There wasn’t much to see in the darkness except for the moon shining off of the water. Rows of yellow lights on the land indicated the location of the rental cabins, while further on, where the docks were, white hulled boats could be seen. It was a pretty sight. Based on the cars in the dirt parking lot, the Sandy Hill Resort drew the middle class more than the well-heeled tourist.

  It was no surprise when I saw a silver Lexus. It was the only one in the lot. It had to be Keith’s. I parked next to it and got out of the truck. I walked to the management office which was a low slung building decorated with paintings of cookies and pie. The lights were still on. I went inside. It was busy with parents and kids, ordering ice cream from a harried young woman. I sidestepped this chaos and went to a counter where a middle-aged man was. He had flecks of gray in his hair, but a friendly practiced smile that showed he was eager to please his customers. A sign on the desk indicated that this was Mr. Greer.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.

  I tried my Michigan accent. “I need a place to stay. I’ve been on the road for a long time.” I hoped he did not recognize my voice from the phone call. Not that it really mattered, but in case something violent occurred I didn’t him linking my name with my number. “Preferably somewhere quieter than this,” I added as I eyed the nearby mob.

  “How many are in your party?” he asked.

  “Just me.”

  “This isn’t exactly a good place for a single man, but I’m sure we could fit you in somewhere. Would you prefer a house or a boat?”

  “I’m afraid I would get seasick,” I said, laughing at myself.

  “I have a cabin available on the very end. It should be quiet enough, but I’m glad to say that after midnight you won’t hear much at all. This is, after all, a family place and we don’t condone late night shenanigans.”

  “I would prefer something by the water. It’s a beautiful view.”

  He began rummaging through some papers. “How long are you staying, sir?”

  “Just a few days. I was planning to run up to Vegas and do some gambling, but I’m not what you call a big city kind of guy. I like the look of this place – friendly like.”

  “The views are spectacular, sir. Cabin 9C should work out just fine for you.” He pulled out a key from a desk drawer and put it on the desk. “You’ll find it on the last row, right near the marina entrance.”

  “Do you take cash?”

  “Of course, sir. But you’ll have to put an addition one-hundred dollar deposit to cover any possible damages. The deposit will be refunded when you return the key.”

  “I can manage that.”

  After signing some paper and handing over a wad of money, I was the proud owner of a brass key. I said my thank yous and goodbyes, and then left. I got back inside the truck, started it up, and drove slowly through the resort as I studied the lay of the land. The roads here crisscrossed in a regular pattern between the rows of cookie cutter cabins of all the same color and size. On the edge of the shore, I found my cabin, the number on a metal sign attached to the wall. I parked in the little gravel driveway near the door and got out, bringing a large duffel bag with me. From the marina came laughter, sounding nearby.

  Inside the cabin there was a small kitchenette, a tiny dining room table, an open door that led to a miniscule bathroom, and a room with two queen-sized beds. A stairway led to a loft with another bed. It would be damn crowded here with a family. The furnishings were all hotel cheap, made for sturdiness, not comfort. I threw the duffel bag on one of the ground floor beds and zipped it open. Inside were a few changes of clothes, a pair of shoes, a cellphone that was turned off, a sawed-off shotgun loaded with buckshot, a can of lighter fluid and a lighter, and a pair of binoculars. I took the last item out and then zipped the bag shut.

  Dousing the lights, I slowly drew the curtains in the main room back a few inches. Before my cabin was a wooden boardwalk that soon split like fingers on a hand to the different slips of the marina. It was crowded with ships; a few sails but mostly the big power cruisers and a handful of speedboats. Overhead sodium lights were strung along the length of the marina. I scanned over the assembled flotilla until one stuck out. Its lights were on and there was quite a crowd on the top deck. I put the binoculars to my eyes and got a closer look. There were a number of young men and women on board, mostly the latter. They had cans of beers in their hands and looked to be having a good time. Even at this distance I could hear the faint trickle of laughter and music filtering through the glass of the window.

  It was too busy to do anything, so I settled down to wait. The hours ticked by. I paced back and forth, checking the view every few minutes. At midnight the other boats were dark but the party still went on at the Double Date. If anything the volume from that ship grew louder as the alcohol removed whatever social restraints remained. It wasn’t until two in the morning that the revelers began to exit, leaving only a small knot of the most hardened drinkers left. It was then that I finally made out the figure of Keith Miller. He was sitting in the captain’s chair, acting like a king to a band of courtiers. At this distance there wasn’t enough detail to make out his expression, but I could tell by the way he laconically held the beer in his hand, and the posture of indifference that he thought himself above the others. As for the others, I saw a three young women giggling amongst themselves and two men who looked drunk as hell.

  It was over an hour later when the party finally shut down. I saw another couple stagger away while the others stayed on board. The lights went out and peace finally came to the Sandy Hill Resort. I waited another thirty minutes before leaving. I wasn’t planning anything drastic yet – instead I wanted to get a closer look at the boat and make my plans once I knew the layout. Unlike my questioning of Eric Sanders, this was no time to go rushing in; not with a boat full of witnesses. I would have to finalize my plan to get to Keith and have him reveal the remaining gold. That would be a tricky proposition.

  Slipping out the door, I walked straight for the dock, acting like I belonged there. I headed straight for the row that held Keith’s ship. When I got close, I saw it was a substantial houseboat with rows of tinted windows on the main deck, and portholes on the bottom. There was a pilot house on top, ringed by railing. It was here that the party took place; the evidence of empty beer cans could still be seen. I kept on walking, examining what I could out of the corner of my eye. Out of sight, I reached the end of the dock and waited, counting to a thousand before going past the boat again.

  As I strode past, I saw something new. It was a girl with dark hair. She was on top of the houseboat, leaning against the railing. She was standing in the shadows, barely visible under the glare of the sodium lights. She was wearing a bathrobe and was looking out to the dark water beyond. She heard my footsteps and turned to look at me. I gave her a friendly wave, one late night reveler to another. She didn’t respond, but instead stared at me before returning her attention back to the lake. In that brief moment I saw someone who looked a little scared and unsure of herself. I
could only imagine what Keith had been doing to her.

  I walked back to my cabin. After brushing my teeth and taking a shower, I went to bed. Even though my mind was busy trying to finalize my plan, I fell asleep quickly and dreamed of nothing memorable.

  There was the sound of someone crying – it sounded like a child. And then came the shouting. The crying increased in volume. I awoke in a daze, trying to find my bearings. I opened my eyes and checked the alarm clock. It was almost eleven in the morning. The sound was coming from the front of my cabin. I groggily pulled myself off the bed, looked through the curtain, and saw a red-faced man – perhaps his father - shouting at a boy who was sprawled on the ground. The youth finally picked himself up and the two ambled off, apparently on friendly terms again.

  The day crowd was out in force. From my cabin I could see that the number of boats in the marina had diminished and the nearby beach was crowded with swimmers, mostly young kids splashing in the water. Inwardly cursing at the whole sorry lot for waking me up, I picked up the binoculars and did a quick sweep of Keith’s boat. It was still there, looking like a ghost ship compared to the busy nearby watercraft. With nothing to see, I took a shower and changed into shorts, a pair of sandals, and a white t-shirt. After slapping on some suntan lotion, I threw on a baseball cap and some dark sunglasses. I left, locked the cabin up and headed toward the beach. I still had no firm plan in mind, but instead decided to wait and see if anything fell in my lap.

  The sun above was blazing hot, the sand was baking, and the water at my feet was as warm as bathwater. I felt as if I was drowning in my own sweat. The beach was teeming with children of all ages who were busy whooping it up as they splashed about. Bored parents sat underneath umbrellas, occasionally looking up from books to make sure their progeny hadn’t drowned. I noticed a mob of teenagers toward the back of the beach - obviously trying to stay as far away from the adults as possible. Beyond them was a strip of sidewalk, a playground, and building to change in, and a small takeout place that had a long line of waiting customers. Since I was hungry, I headed in this direction.

  Passing through the children and parents was easy enough, but there was a tension in the air as I approached the teenagers. Whoever I was, I certainly wasn’t cool enough for these spotty-faced youths. The girls pointedly ignored me, while the boys tried to size me up as if they wanted to start a fight. It was a sad display of machismo that I easily ignored. I got in line behind an obese man, my eyes scanning the menu printed on top of the little restaurant. It was classic tourist fare: ice cream, hamburgers, hotdogs, and sodas. The prices were exorbitant. It’s always nice having a monopoly.

  I felt someone touching the top of my hand. I spun around and saw myself looking at a young woman who was eighteen or nineteen years old. She had dark hair, tanned skin, and was wearing a navy blue bikini that fit her leggy body quite well. The face was pretty: all big brown eyes, fine cheekbones, and full lips. In a couple of years she would be a beautiful woman, but for now she was merely cute. It took me a moment to realize that it was the same girl who I had seen on top of Keith’s boat, staring off into the water beyond.

  “Do I know you?” I asked, feigning confusion.

  “You’re the man I saw last night. The one walking in the marina when no one else was awake. You looked lonely.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You’ve got a lot on your mind?” I asked.

  “Yeah, who doesn’t?”

  “Me too.” I shuffled forward as the line moved.

  She took a step with me. “What’s your name?

  “Devon.”

  “Valerie,” she said as if ashamed of it. “It sounds so snobby, doesn’t it?”

  “No, not really. Are you having a good time at this resort?”

  She made a face. “I was dragged here by my parents. I go to college for one year and this is my summer vacation, forced to spend it here with my mom and dad. They think I’m some sort of babysitter for my twelve-old brother, but I made it clear that they can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

  “Was that your parent’s boat I saw you at? It looks like they were having one hell of a party.”

  “No, of course not, that was some guy’s boat. His name is Keith. He’s a real square but he gives us beer.”

  “Oh, there is more than one of you?”

  She blushed. “I have my friends Ella and Sarah come with me. They have their boyfriends, Brady and Thomas, so I’m sort of the third wheel. Keith acts younger than is his age, but he’s got the boat and the liquor. It beats babysitting my little brother.”

  “What do your parents think of all this?”

  She gave me a look of disapproval. “I stay out of their way and they stay out of mine.”

  It was my turn at the counter. “Do you want anything?” I asked Valerie. “My treat.”

  “I actually just came over to talk to you, but I’ll take an ice cream cone – chocolate.”

  I ordered the sugary confection and then a hotdog and water for myself. I paid and then handed the cone to my new friend. As we walked along, I began to eat. I noticed that Valerie was the type to get plenty of attention. The boys just couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off of her. And I, being the old man, got some nasty looks for having such a girl all to myself. We found a shady spot and settled down in the sand.

  I said, “You said you wanted to talk to me. Any reason why or do you just like strangers?”

  She shot me a pair of goo-goo eyes, all sugar and corn syrup. Her voice took on a lilting quality. Young women are so obvious. “As I said, I’m the third wheel. I was hoping you would like to hang out with me.”

  “Why me?”

  “Take a look around – it’s either married men or teenage boys. You appear to be single and I don’t exactly see a wedding ring on your finger. No strings attached – which means no nasty emails or stalking in your future.”

  “I’m honored – I guess.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “Why exactly are you here at this resort? I mean it doesn’t seem like the kind of place that you would go.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I just like the sound of children playing and their parents yelling at them.”

  She laughed. “I bet you’ve never changed a diaper in your life. Come on, let’s go for a swim.”

  “Okay.”

  We spent the rest of the day swimming, talking, and lying around in the sun. Valeria was a smart little creature, but so terribly inexperienced. At least she appeared to take me at face value when there was really a darker side hidden under false promises and smiles. What she really wanted was attention and a man to spend time with. I gave her both of those things, listening to her silly talk about college. She didn’t seem that interested in me, which was fine as far as I was concerned. Instead – at least according to her fantasy – this was a summer romance with no long term consequences.

  When evening rolled around, I was feeling fairly exhausted, but Valerie demanded that I take her out to eat somewhere far away from the resort. I readily agreed, but suggested that we both change. So off she went while I headed back to my cabin. Once inside, I put on a pair of jeans and wore a polo shirt. I also switched to boat shoes, trying to look the part of a tourist with a few extra dollars to spend.

  It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. I went and answered it and found Valerie there. She had switched to a dark green knit dress with exposed shoulders and a pair of high-heels. I gave a whistle in appreciation. It was good to see some effort for a change instead of the sloppiness hat has infected modern attire.

  “You do clean up nicely,” I said. “Hold on a second while I grab my wallet and keys.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?” she asked, using a seductive voice that she probably learned from the movies.

  I glanced at her wondering if I should take up her offer. It di
dn’t take long for me to reach a decision: Pauline was all that I needed right now. Adding another woman to the mix would only complicate my life.

  “Let’s grab something to eat first,” I said. “You’ve kept me busy all day and I’ve hardly eaten a thing.”

  “I suppose so,” she said, only pouting a little. No one likes to get turned down, even if their offer isn’t that obvious.

  I locked the cabin up and we went to the truck. She didn’t seem very impressed by the old thing. Like a gentleman, I opened the door for her. She got in showing a lot of leg, shooting me a crooked smile. I ignored the obvious invitation and instead went to my side and slid behind the steering wheel. I started up the engine and off we went. To hide the true capabilities of the truck, I drove slowly, letting any traffic pass by unchallenged.

  A few miles away, I stopped at a chophouse. Inside we ate steaks as I listened to Valerie chatter on about her friends and family. She seemed jealous of Ella and Sarah, or at least the ongoing relationships with their respective boyfriends. Instead she was just stuck with Keith who spent his time pawing at her. There was some indication that they had slept together, but she wasn’t telling me that. At least not yet. Valerie was apparently so glad that I had happened along, someone big and strong enough to keep this lecherous man off her back. I listened to all of this, nodding and adding little worthless comments. It’s been my experience that people like to talk but not necessarily hear solutions.

  Afterward, we hopped into the truck and headed back. I stopped at a liquor store and got a bottle of whiskey – nothing too expensive. By the time we returned to the resort, the stars were out and the moon was shining over the water. I parked and together we began walking back to my cabin.

  “What now, lover boy?” Valerie purred as she held onto my arm. She was leaning close into me, all hips and breasts.

  “I don’t know,” I said, playing dumb.

  As we got closer to the shore, the sound of music and laughter bounced over the water. Of course it was coming from Keith’s boat. A sizable crowd had already gathered, ready to drink and be merry.

  “Why don’t we go see your friends?” I suggested.

  “But they’re boring!”

  “You go ahead and I’ll catch up. And why don’t you take the whiskey with you?”

  “Okay.” She was pouting again, unhappy to be turned down yet again. Letting go of my arm, she took the bottle from my hand and headed off toward the marina, swinging her hips with as much gusto as she could summon. It was a fine sight and I felt like a heel for hiding the truth from her.

  Unlocking the cabin, I went in and reached for the duffel bag. I pulled out the cellphone, turned it on and checked that the battery was still fully charged. I went into the setup and turned the GPS location on. I then got out the roll of duct tape, the lighter fluid and a lighter. I tucked the Colt inside my waistband, and wore my shirt untucked, hoping the bulge wasn’t noticeable. As for my last measure, I taped the hard plastic knife between my shoulder blades.

  I jogged back to the parking lot, located the silver Lexus, and went to the rear of the car. Once I saw that the coast was clear, I dropped to my knees, turned around and got on my back. I took a long length of tape and quickly attached the cellphone to the space above the gas tank. Standing back up, I considered slashing the tires, but feared I would be caught, and there was the possibility that they were run-flats, which were designed to go some distance even if damaged. Anyway, this was all just a precaution if my main plan went awry.

  After brushing any errant dust off of my clothes, I walked quickly back to the marina. As soon as I hit the boardwalk, I took on a leisurely stroll as if I didn’t have a care in the world. I passed some other residents who were stonily ignoring the sound of revelry coming from the houseboat. The closer I got to the craft, the more I wondered why the management hadn’t called the police. Keith was cocksure, thinking himself untouchable. I was about to change that.

  I climbed on board and found myself mixed with a mob of people. For the most part they were young – at that age where socializing was the nadir of existence – and filled with the unbridled energy. I felt old just being there, almost as if I was moving in slow motion. Theirs was a chorus of babble, shiny eyes, and a seemingly unlimited supply of booze and beer. The decks were crowded and it took me some time to find Valerie. She was near Keith and her friends, talking with animation. I caught her eye and she waved me over.

  “Everyone, this is Devon, the man I was telling you about.”

  I gave the assembled group a friend grin, making sure not to concentrate on any one person for too long. Nonetheless I was aware that Keith was watching me carefully. Perhaps he didn’t like his little plaything stolen away.

  “Devon, this is here Ella.”

  I shook hands with her. She was a petite thing with mousy hair, a delicate mouth, and a pair of square nerdy glasses. She moved with self-conscious clumsiness, trying to prevent a disaster before it happened. Her clothing was simple: a black mini-skirt and a rose-colored sleeveless shirt with a red silk scarf wrapped around her long and narrow neck. She was beautiful but didn’t know it. It’s a precious trait in a world filled with wannabe movie stars.

  Sarah was much like Valerie: a real knockout that would only get better once a few years went by and if she took care of herself. A life like this – late nights and booze – would roughen the edges, making the body age prematurely. I’ve seen it happen before. She would have to grab who she could quick, before it was too late.

  Their boyfriends, Brady and Thomas, were generic college students without a trace of personality or individuality. They could have crawled out of the same wardrobe and even had matching hair styles. After giving them a nod, I promptly forgot that they were even there.

  “And Devon, this is Keith.”

  I kept my expression friendly as he leaned over to grab my hand. We shook. He was an old-fashioned knuckle grinder. I wasn’t going to try and match his strength since as far as he was concerned, I was just another lamb for the slaughter: someone easily cowed by the alpha wolf.

  “Glad to meet you,” he said. His voice was low and firm, only slightly betraying his military background by the clipped way he formed the words. Upon closer inspection I saw a man who was all muscle; not in a bulging bodybuilding sense but tough and sinewy. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, boat shoes, and a muscle shirt underneath a thin gray sweatshirt. He stood like a practiced fencer, looking as if he could strike at any moment. Even in the crowd, Keith had a clear space around him, giving off danger signs to anyone who strayed to close. Perhaps I was the only one who consciously recognized the threat, but it was there.