“Hey, Dali.”
“Hello, Taco Bob! This is the first time I’ve seen your houseboat. It is very nice.”
“Thanks. Dali, meet a friend of mine, Slip Hansen – fishing guide extraordinaire.”
The man has a very strong handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Dali. I’ve seen you around. Mallory artist, right?”
I nod and bow, and when I come back up Consuelo is handing me a bottle of water and taking the bags of groceries from the men. I thank her for the drink and notice she has slipped on a t-shirt. Slip notices the drink.
“I could use a beer, Con.”
Consuelo has gone inside the houseboat and yells back, “You both smell like beer already. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not your mother. You want a beer, get it yourself.”
Slip rolls his eyes. “What’s eating her this time?”
I shrug. “I’ve only just arrived myself, but she seemed upset earlier by the leering pervert on the tricycle.” All eyes go to the little fat guy who is still hanging around the dock.
Taco Bob shakes his head and does a little eye rolling of his own. “That guy is going to get himself in trouble one of these days.” Taco Bob turns his attention my way. “So what brings you down here, Dali?”
“I may have some information for you, about the problems you told me about here at the marina.”
My grunt-fishing partner gestures towards the ladder and slaps his hand on Slip’s shoulder. “Slip, since you’re going that way, I could go for one of those waters myself if you can grab one without getting into it with Consuelo for once.” Slip starts to say something, but then shrugs and goes inside.
Up top, Taco Bob directs me to one of the two captain’s chairs behind the boat pilot’s console, then takes the other himself.
“Well, Dali, if you’ve got some news about the marina you’re just in time, since we’re about to go over the latest anyway. Consuelo offered earlier to make a batch of her famous stew for lunch if we went to the store.”
There was a loud thump from below a second before Slip came squirting up the ladder to join us. Taco Bob tilted his head at the darkly tanned fishing guide.
“What was that?”
Slip looks embarrassed as he hands over a bottle of water and leans against the freshly polished railing. “Oh, nothing. A frying pan slipped out of Blondie’s hand.” He tries a big grin that doesn’t seem very convincing. Taco Bob asks where the pan landed and Slip motions towards his back.
While we wait for Consuelo, Taco Bob tells Slip how he’d filled me in on the situation at the marina once while we were grunt fishing. Consuelo comes up the ladder and waves off my offer of a seat.
“Stew should be ready in about an hour.” She parks herself against the railing opposite Slip. “You guys find out anything at the office? I assume that’s where you were drinking the beer.” She opens the one she has in her hand and takes a long pull.
Taco Bob takes off his old straw hat and runs his fingers through his hair. “We didn’t find out much. Big Jim wasn’t there, but Maria told us another person who bought marine fuel a few days ago is having engine problems. She also says it’s going to cost them several thousand to have the bad gas pumped out of that tank.”
We all just kind of look down and slowly shake our heads at this.
“She also said they’re pretty sure the smell is shrimp. Not only did someone ruin the icemaker and bait tank pump a couple of nights ago, but Maria says she’s realized since that a lot of the shrimp were missing. They’ve been finding rotten shrimp scattered all over the marina.” Taco Bob is looking at us now. “She’s also been thinking about the timing and says some of the sabotage could have been done during the day, even. So it might be someone who fits right in around here. Someone no one would suspect. Maria says they’re plenty worried. Whoever did this really knew how to hit them where it would hurt them the most in repairs and lost business.”
Both Slip and Consuelo are getting more upset by the minute by all this.
Slip suddenly stands away from the rail and crosses his arms. You can see the muscles in the man’s arms and shoulders tighten. “Well, it’s a pretty chicken-shit thing to do, especially for a bank.”
It doesn’t look like anyone is going to disagree. Especially Consuelo.
“Yeah, the bank is definitely pulling some underhanded stuff on honest working people here. I say sabotage like this calls for some equally dirty tactics.”
Taco Bob is nodding his head, cautiously agreeing with Consuelo. “But it would help to have something to go on, some proof, or better yet, catch someone red-handed.” He looks at me. “Besides seeing the owners of this place getting screwed over, it bothers me no end to see more fancy condos around here. That’s too much like displacing real life and real people with make-believe, sanitized versions of the kind of things that got bulldozed in the first place. This isn’t Disney.”
Consuelo seems angrier than ever. She goes slitty-eyed with fists on hips. She looks about to blow, but abruptly announces, “Beer run!” and is down the ladder and stomping along the dock before anyone can say anything.
Taco Bob and Slip are slowly shaking their heads, but both men watch Consuelo closely. Her path takes her not far from the perv guy, who must have said something because Consuelo stops suddenly and is slowly turning his way. She scans the immediate area and I notice Slip and Taco Bob are doing the same, and have gone to full alert.
The nasty little man on the bike keeps jabbering and pointing at Consuelo as he backs away, but that only puts him closer to the edge of the dock. He’s shaking a finger at her as Consuelo takes another quick check of the area, then turns away. As she turns her leg shoots out in a sidekick so fast it’s only a blur. The perv’s head snaps back and one of the tricycle’s back tires rolls slowly over the edge of the dock before taking the rest of the bike, and the little man with it into the water.
Consuelo is walking away at a leisurely pace by then and my companions remain alert, but seated. We can see some thrashing in the water, but then the perv stands up in the waist-deep water. Consuelo is already to the front door of the marina office and store by the time he’s recovered from the shock enough to start yelling for help. Taco Bob and Slip relax and share a smile.
Ten minutes later, some tourists have helped the perv get himself and his bike out of the water. Several boat owners had responded to the yelling, but none had offered more than some satisfied smiles.
Consuelo is smiling herself as she comes back up the ladder with a fresh six-pack from the marina store. Taco Bob has a wry look for her. “Feel better?”
She hands beers to each of us. “Oh, yes. Definitely.” She winks at me. “Now, where were we?”
Slip clears his throat. “I could pull another stakeout of the marina tonight.”
Consuelo rolls her eyes. “You were snoring within an hour the last time.” Slip shoots her a dirty look, but doesn’t argue the point. “This place is too hard to watch at night, anyway. Too many people coming and going. What we need is a break. A bit of luck wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”
Taco Bob gestured towards me. “I was about to ask Dali here what he had for us when Consuelo ran off to give swimming lessons.”
All eyes go to me.
“There’s a man who offers help to new people at the Mallory Sunset Celebration. He has a reputation as an unsavory type who tries to take advantage of those down on their luck. He calls himself a benefactor and is new to Key West himself. He lives on a boat in the marina here. The people at Mallory think he’s likely got something more going on than just hustling a few broke artists.”
This brings a lot of questions. I tell all I know, including a description of the man. Consuelo seems concerned.
“Okay, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the guy. Like when I was going around asking people on boats if they’d seen any suspicious activity.” She wrinkles up her face. “So if it is him, I may have tipped him off a bit.” Slip asks what she’d said to the guy
. Consuelo thinks hard before answering. “Just that someone had been busting up some stuff around the marina. I didn’t mention the bank or anything.” She gave a small shrug. “I remember my Early Warning System telling me he was about to try a come on, so I moved along.”
Slip nods his head. “Is it that white houseboat with the blue roof down at the end of J Pier?” He gets an affirmative from Consuelo. “That thing’s been there a while, so he must be renting it. Nice-looking custom-made boat. I doubt it comes cheap.”
While everyone seems to be giving this some thought, I have an idea.
“I have an idea. I might know someone who could keep an eye on things around here, at least during the day. He’s young, but smart, and pretty sneaky already.” No one says anything, so I continue. “With a disguise of some kind and a little training I bet he could be the perfect undercover operative.”
We all look at Consuelo, who is obviously interested.
∨ Key Dali ∧
19
School
With the knowledge that I’m on my way to helping friends and at the same time losing a pesky shadow, I am once again a man in love gliding happily along the historic streets of beautiful Key West.
I haven’t seen young Tim yet today, but I’m confident he’s around. I keep an eye peeled as I traverse Duval, waving to friends, acquaintances, and the throngs of tourists on sightseeing buses. My thoughts are still predominately of my wonderful night with the enchanting Socks, but as I have resolved to always concern myself with matters pertaining to my quest first, I am actively searching for my shadow. Business before pleasure.
I see the seashell girl looking up from a customer and waving at me, but I only wave back and pass by as I doubt she has a seashell with my name yet. I’ve also resolved to save my money and not to do any more gambling.
My poor love-struck mind is trying so hard not to think of Socks while searching for Tim that I almost think I see her peeking around a building. I shake my head to clear it and notice my little spy behind a parked truck. It’s time to deliver him to the sisters.
♦
Before I left the marina, Consuelo had insisted I try a bowl of her stew. While enjoying the hearty fare, I promised to bring Tim around just as soon as I found him. So upon entering the old hotel, I wasn’t surprised to see the three sisters there by the front desk, waiting.
To get him to come along I’d promised Tim a unique opportunity – a chance to learn things that would likely benefit him for years to come and make him a better person throughout his life. He was totally not interested until I mentioned he might also make some nice cash. Then he couldn’t wait.
The sight of the three vibrant, beautiful young women standing in a row with smiles of anticipation and intense eyes seemed a bit much for Tim, whose initial reaction was to break and run. Luckily, I had a good grip on a thin arm, so after only a moderate amount of flopping around and shrieking, he settled down enough I was able to turn him over to the sisters who quickly surrounded him, cooing and playfully mussing his hair. I bid them all a pleasant day as I turned to go, and paid no heed to my wild-eyed, panic-stricken, former shadow’s tearful promises not to spy on me anymore. I did, however, caution the sisters not to eat him. This brought a chorus of giggles and even a cackle or two from the women, as well as renewed pleas for mercy from Tim as they led him away.
♦
Now I just need to check with Stoney. He isn’t at home, or at the first three places I check, but I spot Mole coming out of a bar just off Duval.
“Hey, Mole! I’m looking for Stoney, have you seen him today?”
“Hey, Dali. He’s right in there.”
I slip inside the bar and find Stoney sitting alone at a table in back finishing off a basket of conch fritters. He’s on the phone, but sees me and waves me over. I munch an offered fritter as he finishes the call and snaps the phone closed.
“Dali, my man. Just the person I’m looking for.” Stoney’s eyes sweep the half-filled bar before locking back on me.
“And I for you, Stoney.”
“Did you stay at my place last night?”
“Yes.” I give him a smile that tells him just how good of a time I had. “Thanks. I owe you one, my friend.”
Stoney is smiling knowingly at my happy grin and shaking his head. “You owe me nothing. I doubt I can ever repay you for what you did for me that time at the cemetery.”
We never talk about that terrifying night, but I know my friend continues to stay well clear of cemeteries, mescaline, and women who make their living with chainsaws to this very day.
I try another fritter. Not bad.
“Stoney, did you have a chance to check on that bank? I’ve done a few small things to help the people at the marina, but I feel it may not be enough. We are only people, and well, banks are banks.”
Stoney’s eyelids go to half-mast and he nods slowly like he does whenever he hears a Great Truth. My friend flashes two fingers at a waitress across the room.
“As a matter of fact, I was just in a meeting with a business associate discussing that very situation, and I believe we have a plan.”
Mole.
“Dali, you know how Mole is afraid of the sea, right?”
“Of course. He used to be a shrimper, ran a forty foot boat by himself for weeks at a time until the boat sank from under him and he ended up lost at sea for several days holding onto an ice chest.”
“Did you know the ice chest was full of coke?”
“Uh, no. I hadn’t heard that part.”
“It’s true. The man sat on that ice chest sticking coke up his nose and used a sandal to paddle the thirty-some miles back to Key West.” My friend leans in closer and lowers his voice. “Anyway, what I was going to tell you is, before he got into the shrimp and import/export game, Mole had a successful career in banking – mostly withdrawals, if you know what I mean. In fact, he was only one short of the state record for one-man bank heists in a month when he got popped. Bank took the opportunity to hang a couple of ongoing internal embezzlement scams on Mole with help from some crooked cops, and in spite of the best lawyers dirty money can buy, Mole ended up doing a full nickel at Starke. Man is fair though, he’s hated banks and cops equally since.”
“Mole’s a big dude, how’d they get him? I can’t see some crusty old bank guard taking him down.”
“Bank didn’t even have a guard. Moral of the story is if you’re going to hit a bank on a Friday afternoon, make sure it isn’t just around the corner from the police detective’s headquarters. There were, like, a dozen armed plainclothes cops standing in line behind him when he handed the teller the note.”
A waitress stops by with a cold draft beer for each of us and takes away the empty fritter basket.
Stoney leans in again.
“Anyway, Mole is up for anything that involves a bank. He put me onto an acquaintance of his from Starke who it just so happens is a former bank computer jockey. They got a lot in common since this guy hates banks as much as Mole after taking a fall for his crooked boss. Boss promised Mole’s computer geek friend a big slice of a multi-million dollar mortgage scam when he got out, then hauled ass somewhere down-island with the whole pie, and no one has seen or heard from him since.” Stoney takes a sip of his beer and checks out a couple of good-looking tourist women coming in the bar before continuing. “So I got a computer man and a guy who can do heavy lifting on board. And they both got a major hard-on for banks.”
I’m impressed, and tell my friend as much. He waves it off and gets down to business.
“So here’s what I’ve found out so far. The Greater Keys National Bank – ”
“I’ve heard it called the Bank of Greed and Indifference.”
Stoney cracks a smirk. “Yeah, I heard that too. Fitting. You probably know that bank is always having some kinda promotion going on with cute little stuffed manatees for anyone who opens an account, lollipops for the kids, and bubbly women with big smiles as tellers. Real squeaky-clean, who
lesome atmosphere for the rubes off the street. They have cute television commercials and even opened a couple of branches a few years ago – one in Key West.
“But not many people know the bank’s founder, Rubio ‘Mucho Kilos’ Manderas, was head of one of the biggest and most violent drug cartels in Columbia. He only started the bank in Miami for laundering drug money, and in a big way. But besides being a vicious criminal, the man was also a smart businessman. Not only did they give out stuffed manatees, the bank sponsored charity events and funneled truckloads of money to local politicians. There was even talk among the grateful politicians about naming a new park in Miami Beach after the man when ‘Mucho’ died unexpectedly one night of acute lead poisoning outside Joe’s Stone Crab. The politicians unanimously voted to name the park after one of their own instead, and the bank got snapped up by a local man in the health care fraud field who thought owning a bank would give him credibility. It did, by the way, enough so he’s now in Washington representing District 18 and supposedly a lock for US senator next election.”
Stoney takes a break to sip beer and winks at one of the tourist women going to the restroom.
“So then that guy sold the bank at the height of the real estate frenzy a few years ago to a big bank that gutted it and sold off most of the good paper when the economy tanked. That marina is one of the few decent notes the bank still holds, and worth a lot of money now. Supposedly to some foreign conglomerate for luxury condos. But my guess is they’re also going to try to slip in a casino.” Stoney just shrugs and sips at his beer.
“So, this computer friend of Mole’s found out all of this for you that quick?”
“Nah. I knew some of that already and picked up most of the rest on an Internet discussion forum last night over at Cindy’s.”
“Cindy? I thought – ”
“We’re thinking of getting back together.” Stoney shrugs again and I decide not to inquire further. His eyes lower again. “Anyway, these days banks spend more on computer security than they ever did on armed guards and alarm systems. Mole’s buddy is going to find out the name of the company doing the bank’s computer security, and then I got to figure out how to get Mole over the bridge so he can take care of his part of the plan.”
Key Dali Page 8
