by A W Hartoin
“Ah, hell. I seen that look before. Somebody’s going to die.”
“Not me.” I jumped and trudged through the waist-deep water onto the beach. Twenty shocked tourists stared at me. “Where’d he go?” I asked.
They pointed to the alley beside the restaurant and I got a surge of energy. I ran down the alley, cut through the dive shop, and ran toward Todd and Tracy’s room. At some point I became aware of someone huffing and puffing behind me. I looked back and there was Aaron, red-faced but keeping up.
Todd and Tracy’s room was open. They were all gone. A man yelled from the end of the path. “They’re driving away!”
We ran down to the office, but didn’t see them. There was only a golf cart there. None of the resort vehicles or cabs.
“Shit!” I couldn’t believe it. I’d lost them and they had two kids in tow. I’d never live it down. Oh the hell with it. I turned the corner and ran down the lane, trying to catch sight of them, but they must’ve turned a corner. I screamed in frustration.
Aaron drove up beside me in the golf cart, holding a frosty drink.
“We can’t catch them in that!”
He blinked and took a sip.
“Fine!” I got in. “Floor it!” And he did. It was not an impressive amount of speed and I was embarrassed by the whole deal. Aaron drank his drink and we went up the lane.
“You know we’re chasing a would-be murderer, right?” I asked. He was so calm, I had my doubts.
No answer, just another sip.
“Where’d you get that drink?”
“Alfie.”
“Who’s Alfie?”
“The guy who gave me the drink.”
“You are driving me crazy!”
Aaron gave me the glass and it wasn’t half bad. Not that it made up for a family four-pack escaping me, but it was some form of comfort.
“You know we’re never going to catch them in this stupid thing,” I said. “If you tell Dad or Chuck that I tried to chase down a murderous family in a golf cart, I will never speak to you again.”
“There they are,” said Aaron, pointing to the other resort golf cart making a turn onto the main road into the West End. They were trying to escape in a golf cart. They were stupider than me.
Yes!
Todd and Tracy looked back and spotted us. I waved and their kids flipped me off. Nice! We followed them through the streets of the West End, past bars and tacky tourist shops. We were about twenty yards apart, but Aaron and I couldn’t get any closer. We passed a couple of tourist cops, standing next to their bicycles.
“Stop them!” I yelled.
They smiled and waved. Oh my god! What does a girl have to do to get some assistance?
Aaron hung a right.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Shortcut.”
“We’ve been on this island for nine days. You don’t know any shortcuts. Turn around. We’re losing them.”
Aaron took back his drink and kept driving.
“Aaron!”
“We’re on an island.”
“What?” I asked.
“Where are they gonna go?”
Ah crap.
“They could get on a flight,” I said.
“No seats available.”
“Or better yet a boat. This place is chock full of boats. They could escape to the mainland or Utila.”
Aaron slurped up the last of the drink and gave me the empty cup. He took a sharp left and there was no golf cart.
“I can’t believe we lost them. On the upside, our so-called partnership is at an end.”
“Tommy says we’re partners,” said Aaron.
“Not after this he won’t. You’ve committed the ultimate offense. The criminals got away.”
Aaron took another sharp left. “There they are.”
The other golf cart was only five yards ahead.
Damnit. I didn’t know whether to be happy or pissed off that he found them.
Aaron had it floored, but we couldn’t get any closer.
“I can run faster than this,” I said.
“Okay.”
Ah crap. Now I have to do it.
I waited until Todd’s cart hit a hill, then I jumped out and ran to them. I grabbed the back post and swung up beside Tara, who proceeded to smack me.
“Stop it, you little hooligan!” I yelled.
So, naturally, Tyler started smacking me, too. Those little hands hurt. Dad was right. I should’ve brought my taser. I’d have tased that kid. I’d have tased him good. I climbed onto the back seat, despite the rapid-fire smacking and got in position to leap onto Tracy, who was driving. Then Tara bit my leg and Todd turned in his seat and started whacking me with his wife’s purse. I had brief flashes of tourists watching us go by with open mouths. Not my finest moment.
I got my feet under me and lunged at the wheel. Then we both had the wheel and the cart started weaving left and right. A cop car pulled up beside us and blared the siren. Ear-splitting, but I wasn’t letting go.
The cop’s window went down and he yelled. “Pull over!”
“I’m trying!” I yelled back.
The siren blared again.
“It’s over, idiots!” I yelled.
“It’s not over, slut,” yelled Tracy.
“Slut!” I lunged, ramming into Tracy and knocking us both out of the cart and into the cop’s passenger door. He stopped just before we went under the rear tire. We lay there for a second, winded and dazed. A car door slammed and the cop yelled, “Freeze!”
I don’t know where he thought we would go. My legs were tangled up in Tracy’s and both our heads were under the car.
“Tracy!” yelled Todd.
“Do not move, sir,” said the cop.
“I have to help my wife. That slut attacked her.”
Again with the slut.
The cop yelled for someone to call the police station and the pebbles started biting my side. “Can we get up?”
“Shut up,” said Tracy and she rammed my head into the bottom of the car. I got her in a choke hold and we rolled out from under. The cop was yelling. Todd was yelling. The crowd was laughing. I had her face smushed into the blacktop and a pair of Italian loafers walked up to my face. “This makes it all worth it.”
Chuck. Freaking fantastic.
“Quiet,” I said. “I’m subduing a suspect.”
“You know you could kill her with that hold.” He squatted next to us, revealing the paisley socks I bought him for Christmas.
“I’m okay with that,” I said.
Todd begged the cop to shoot me and, frankly, that just made me squeeze tighter. The cop told Chuck to back away, but he flashed his badge while mentioning the Lucia situation. Then he put a handcuff on Tracy. “Let her go, Mercy. She’s turning purple.”
I did, but only because my arm hurt. Chuck hoisted Tracy to her feet and put her hands behind her back. She screamed that I was a maniac. Not a bad description given my current state. Chuck gave me a hand up. “You’re a badass. Chasing people down in a golf cart. Tackling them in a bikini.”
“I hope you’re duly impressed,” I said.
“You might want to fix your top.” He grinned at me. “Not to mention your bottoms.”
That completed my day. A crowd of at least a hundred had formed. Half had cameras and I had a breast hanging out and my string bikini was half unstrung. I fixed myself and glared at him. “You could’ve told me that immediately.”
“And ruin the moment? I don’t think so.” He shoved a protesting Tracy in the cop car and tried to subdue Todd, who at that moment decided to go batshit crazy. He started stripping and yelled, “Don’t touch me! I’ve got AIDS!”
“Dude,” said Chuck. “If you don’t put your pants back on, I’m going to touch you with my fist.”
“You can’t! I’m leaving! I’m going!” Todd kicked off his pants, much to the astonishment of his kids. Tara and Tyler were still sitting in the back of the golf cart with their mouths in Os. They’d never
been so pleasant.
Todd made a move to dash by Chuck, who grabbed his bony shoulder and squeezed. Todd went down on his knees, his dingus flopping. There’s a picture I’ll never get out of my head.
“He’s touching me!” yelled Todd. “Police brutality!”
Chuck squeezed again. His long fingers dug in under Todd’s collarbone and the weasel screamed like a five-year-old girl. “It’s her! It’s all her fault.”
Chuck winked at me. “Now that I believe.”
“It’s her fault!” yelled Todd as the cop handcuffed him above his hairy butt. I’ve never seen such a look of revulsion on a man’s face. Plenty of times on a woman’s, but never a man’s. Maybe guys are harder to gross out.
Chuck and the cop yanked Todd to his feet. He kept on yelling about me and how everything was my fault. I guess it was from his point of view. He wanted to kill Lucia and I ruined it. It was the first time fault sounded good.
“Yeah. Yeah,” said Chuck. “You would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for that meddling blond.”
The cop shoved Todd in the back of the car beside his still screaming wife and leaned against the door. He wiped his round face with a red handkerchief and looked me over. “Are you Mercy Watts?”
“Your reputation proceeds you,” said Chuck.
“And follows me,” I said. “I’m Mercy. Why?”
“Tabora’s a fan.” He grimaced at the kids, who were still in some form of shock. “I guess I’ve got to take them in.” He looked at me hopefully.
“Nope. Not a chance. Those demons are going with you.” I pointed at the lovely bite mark on my calf.
“I had to try,” said the cop.
“I won’t hold it against you.”
Aaron walked up carrying an open to go box filled with baleadas. “You hungry?”
“So you were off getting food while I was wrestling the suspect to the ground?” I asked.
Aaron shrugged and offered the baleadas to Chuck and the cop. They each took one.
“Remind me why you’re my partner.”
“Tommy says.”
“Right.”
The cop herded the now crying Tara and Tyler into the car. I promised to be available for statements at La Isla Bonita whenever he wanted to take them, so I didn’t have to go to the station in a bikini. Chuck volunteered to go, saying he had to discuss extradition. He’d been ordered to take Todd and Tracy back to the States. The cop drove off and the crowd dispersed, looking vaguely disappointed that there wasn’t a second round of bikini wrestling.
“Wait a minute. You knew they did it and you didn’t call me?” I asked.
“My phone and luggage were stolen in the Managua airport. Then I got on a bus. By the time I got another phone, I was here and nobody was answering. Besides, I knew you could handle it.”
“What if I didn’t?” I asked, hands on hips.
“You did. I assume Lucia Carrow is still alive.”
“She is, just barely.”
“Works for me. I’ll see you two at the resort after I sort this whole jurisdiction thing out.”
“The Honduran government has jurisdiction. The crimes happened here,” I said.
“But the conspiracy started in the States. Did Pete tell you about his patient that was shot at Plaza Frontenac?
“Don’t tell me that was supposed to be Lucia?” I asked.
“Witness descriptions match Todd and we’ve proved he was in St. Louis driving a rental car that also matched. We’re hoping the Hondurans would rather get Todd and Tracy off their hands than deal with them.”
I got in Tracy’s golf cart to take it back to the resort. “Mind telling me why they wanted to kill Lucia?”
“You haven’t figured that out?” He grinned, looking quite rakish and handsome, despite his rumpled clothes and the bratwurst-shaped bruises on his face or maybe because of them.
“I’ve been busy trying to keep people alive, for your information.”
“They were trying to save their own skins. Todd and Tracy are accountants to the Todaro family. We think they were cooking the books and were about to get caught,” said Chuck.
“I thought they were crazy, but they stole from the Mafia? That’s suicide.”
“I agree, but that’s what it looks like. After the Fibonaccis had Angelo Accosi killed, they hatched the plan to kill Lucia as revenge.”
“What?” I said. “They thought killing her would make them even with the Todaros?”
“Looks like it.”
“Nobody works like that, especially not the mob. Lucia isn’t equal to an underboss. She’s a civilian. That would start a war between the families.”
“What can I say? That was their plan.” Chuck got in his rental car and sped off. Aaron stayed next to my cart, chewing.
“We’re leaving, Aaron,” I said and he trundled off to the other cart and I followed him back to La Isla Bonita. He ate the entire time.
Chapter 18
I PARKED MY golf cart next to Aaron’s, picked three more embedded pieces of gravel out of my thigh, and climbed out like I’d aged thirty years, complete with the old man groan. Aaron gave me his empty to go box and ran away as fast as his little chubby legs would carry him.
“Thanks!” I yelled after him.
I tossed the container in the recycling bin and told the girl in the office that we’d brought back the carts. She barely looked up from her Vogue España. Okay. Catching would-be murders 0. Beauty tips 1. I left and walked down to the scuba shop to find out if anyone knew how Spitball was doing. I assumed he was at the hospital as any normal person who had been stabbed would be. Spitball wasn’t normal. He was at the counter, explaining how the open water certification process worked to a new group. His side was bandaged with what looked like an old sheet. There wasn’t any blood, so that was good. He saw me standing at the top of the stairs and waved. Then he finished with the newbies and they signed up to start the course the next day.
One of the women asked, “May I ask what happened to your side?”
“Just a scratch. Got to be careful when you’re moving equipment.”
Everyone nodded in agreement and left the shop. Spitball grinned at me. “So here she is, the conquering hero.”
“Well, we got them, if that’s what you mean,” I said. “So you’re calling that wound a scratch?”
“Ain’t nothing. I got worse fighting for the last pork chop. Five brothers.”
“You should be at the hospital.”
“I been there before. No, thank you.”
“Can I take a look?” I asked.
“If I got a problem, I’ll call you. So did Todd and Tracy confess?”
“No, but it looks bad for them. My cousin showed up and he’s trying to get them extradited back to the States.”
“If he really wants to punish them, he should leave them here. Honduran prisons ain’t no joke.”
“I bet, but the States want them. How’s Lucia?”
“Shitty. Todd came within a hair of killing her. She went hysterical on the beach and Graeme wasn’t there. Luckily, your Aunt Tenne stepped up and got her back to her room before people started asking too many questions.”
“You’ve managed to keep this quiet? You were stabbed. Not to mention all the attempts on Lucia and Graeme.”
“Hell, yes, we kept it quiet. This is our business. Todd and Tracy ain’t our fault. I’m not gonna let those bastards drive tourists away.”
“It’s going to be all over the news. Maybe you can drive the tourists in. You’ll never get murdered on our watch. You know, that kind of thing. Notoriety is a draw,” I said.
Spitball scratched his stubbly chin. “You might be right. La Isla Bonita, the safest resort on the island. We’ve never lost a tourist.”
“Are you saying some resorts have lost tourists?”
“It happens occasionally. You can’t stop stupidity.”
I left Spitball mulling over marketing and wandered down to Graeme and Lucia’s b
ungalow. I knocked and Graeme answered the door. Wracking sobs burst out behind him and drove me back a step. That and Graeme’s appearance. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
“Mercy, thank god it’s you. What happened?” he asked with a raspy throat.
“We got them. Todd and Tracy are in custody. It’s over now.”
He hugged me so hard that all the air whooshed out of my lungs. Just that made it all worth it, even the pebbles still embedded in my butt.
“Mercy,” called out Lucia.
“Yes, it’s me.” I could see her stumbling out of bed behind Graeme. “Don’t get up.”
“She should get up,” said Aunt Tenne behind me. I turned to see her with Mom and Dixie. They reminded me of the three Fates, all wise in their own way.
“I don’t know,” said Graeme.
“I do.” Aunt Tenne came onto the porch and walked right past Graeme, bumping him into the door frame with her wide hip.
Before I knew what was happening, Mom, Dixie, and Aunt Tenne had gotten Lucia dressed, combed her hair, and powdered her nose. Lucia said nothing. I think she was too surprised. They hooked their arms through hers and led her out into the afternoon sunshine.
“We’re going to get a drink,” said Mom. “Care to join us?”
“Um…” said Graeme. “Maybe we should stay here.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” said Aunt Tenne. “Life didn’t stop. Let’s live it.”
Without another word, they went down the walk with Lucia, chattering about her lovely hair and what drink was best. Did she prefer ice or blended? Sweet or sour?
“I don’t know what to say,” said Graeme.
“That’s okay. It wouldn’t matter if you did.” I steered him out the door. “They’re going to do what they’re going to do.”
We followed them through the maze of paths to the restaurant. Mom ordered a slew of drinks and started to take Lucia down to the the water. For the first time, she pulled back. “I can’t go down there.”
“Take it from me,” said Aunt Tenne, “you have to.”
“We’ll be with you and Mercy’s right behind. You’ve never been safer,” said Dixie.
“What about me?” said Graeme. I guess he’d never been seen as incidental before.
“And Graeme,” said Mom with a tone that said he was practically useless in such situations.
