I was wrestling with my emotional cocktail when the room door opened and PJ again came into the hall. This time she used her foot to keep the door from shutting. I could hear a hair dryer whirring from inside the room. PJ looked at me with obvious concern, “Sissy is doing her hair and trying to hide her crying eyes with makeup. She’ll be ready in a little while. She’s adamant that she’s not staying here. She’s convinced that someone on Security is on Muskof’s payroll. Says that she can’t trust anyone but you and me. She wants to hide somewhere else. I can’t get tied down staying with her. There’s too much leg work to do to stop this guy. Can you take her some place safe and stay with her?”
“Sure. I can do that. Do you have some place in mind? Sure can’t be Sissy’s place or mine.”
PJ wrinkled her brow, “No. I don’t right off the top of my head. Anytime I’ve done anything like this it’s been set up by the Department.”
I suggested, “Well, why don’t we have the Department set something up in this case. She sure as hell is a crime victim now. I understood the fact that until the threat was verified things were a little iffy, but now they’ve tried to kill her. That should justify the Department finding her a safe place.”
PJ looked a little frustrated, “Yeah, yeah, we can get something arranged through official channels. It’s just that it takes time. Probably a day or two. We need some place safe for her right now. Until I can get things through the bureaucracy. I was hoping that you might have an idea.”
Damn. A chance to impress. “Yeah. Sure. Let me make a couple of calls. See what I can line up.”
PJ returned to the room with Sissy and I paced my sentry post hoping to have a stroke of genius and think of the perfect safe house. I wanted to find a place to keep Sissy safe but I also wanted to impress PJ with my worth as part of the solution and not part of the problem. I was deep into the struggle for an idea when my cell phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I answered it and found Jeff Spencer on the other end. He told me that they had located the couple who had the encounter with Sissy’s assailant. He said they were French and didn’t really want to get involved at first but had relented when told about the female victim. They had identified the photograph of the guy from the camera shot in the hallway outside Sissy’s room. They said he had a large gash on the left side of his head and that he was holding a bloody towel up against it. He bumped into them because of the towel obscuring his vision. He cursed at them, but they only understood half of the words he was yelling, and he otherwise seemed to be trying to keep moving toward the parking lot. Spencer said that his guys had compiled a listing of the license plates leaving that parking lot for a thirty minute period after the encounter with the French couple and that they had given the list to the Escapade Police to obtain registration information for PJ. Spencer asked me to update PJ when I saw her. He said that he didn’t want to call her cell phone and interrupt her interview with Sissy. I neglected to tell him that the interview was long over.
Something Spencer said sparked an idea that was clawing it’s way to the surface of my brain. What was it? Something about the suspect? His injury? The towel? The parking area? No. None of that. What was it? The French couple? The French couple? Bam! It hit me. What time is it in France right now? What is the time difference? Five. No six hours. Perfect.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After making my phone call to France, and promising repayment of the favor in terms so obscene that I would be arrested in most of the civilized countries of the world, I knocked on the room door and told PJ that I had lined up a safe place to take Sissy. I told her that I didn’t have the exact street address, I’d been there on several occasions but didn’t know the address, that I would call her and give her the address after we got there. This explanation got me a stern look accented by a disapprovingly raised eyebrow. Hey, I found a place didn’t I?
While Sissy finished “putting herself back together” I made my way back to my car. When I got within a few minutes of the entrance to the Pinnacle, I called PJ and she started downstairs with Sissy. I drove under the porte-cochere and stopped. The parking valet seemed relieved when I told him I was picking someone up and leaving. An endless stream of cars was disgorging well-dressed occupants all of whom expected to be immediately attended to by the valets. The half-dozen valets that I saw were moving on a dead run, but losing ground. My vehicle not only didn’t need to be parked, but it was also blocking one of the four lanes spewing vehicles at the valets. For a second when I told the valet I was going to leave the vehicle parked for a couple of minutes I thought he was going to tip me!
I found Sissy and PJ in the lobby and we all walked out to the car. Sissy looked very tired but otherwise well put together. She was wearing more makeup than she usually did around Cap’s but I figured that was to cover the impact of her crying. She was composed, but seemed fragile. I put Sissy’s suitcase in the trunk and she and PJ hugged goodbye. I pressed five bucks into the hand of the valet who opened Sissy’s door for her and we were off to join the exit side of the traffic jam.
The clock on the car radio read 3:30 a.m. as we snaked our way from the crawling traffic onto northbound US 1. The last twelve hours seemed like a blur. A dream. No, a nightmare. Hope I wake soon and everything is back to normal. I looked at Sissy slumped into the passenger seat. She looked emotionally and physically exhausted. Who could blame her.
The traffic thinned considerably after we were away from Pinnacle and the drive northbound on I-95 to Lighthouse Point would have only taken about thirty minutes had I not taken a detour through Fort Lauderdale International Airport. I turned into the short term parking lot and stopped long enough to turn my phone off and remove the battery. Sissy was sleeping, but I found her phone in her purse and did the same thing to hers.
Once we were in Lighthouse Point it took me a few minutes and several wrong turns to find the waterfront estate I was looking for. In this area the streets are laid out like the skeleton of a fish. Short side streets branch out at equal intervals like ribs from a larger spine. Canals run parallel to the side streets in such a manner that every house has water access behind it. Most have docks. A short trip in your cruiser and you are on the Intracoastal headed for the Hillsborough Inlet and the Atlantic. Not a bad way to relax after a tough day at the office.
The estate I was looking for was at the end of one of the ribs. While the other lots on the street were large, this end lot dwarfed them all at nearly three acres. It covered the entire end of the finger of land with water on three sides. An eight foot high wrought iron fence, obscured by an equally tall ficus hedge, delineated the front of the property.
I pulled up to the closed gates of the property and Sissy spoke for the first time since we had left the Pinnacle, “Where are we? Where are we going?”
“Hey there sleepyhead. How you doing?”
Sissy straightened herself up in the seat and stretched her arms, “I guess I fell asleep for a minute. What time is it anyway? Where are we?”
I tried to mask my own fatigue, “It’s a little after four. Been a tough twelve hours but you’re safe now. We’re at a house in Lighthouse Point that belongs to a friend of mine. They live in France and only use this place part time. We can stay in the guest house. No one will bother us.”
“They have a house and a guest house? How are we going to get in if they’re not here?”
“I have the combination to the gate. She was going to call the housekeeper and have her unlock the guest house and leave the key inside for us.”
“They’re not here, but their housekeeper is?”
“Yes. The housekeeper and her husband live in quarters in the main house. They take care of the place whether anyone is here or not.”
“Must be nice.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, lot like our life, isn’t it.”
Looking around Sissy asked, “Oh, yeah. Really. How do you know these people anyway? Don’t sound like the type who would frequent Cap’s.”
I punched the
code into the key pad and the gate began to open, “Oh, it’s a long story. Just someone I see occasionally when she’s in the country.”
Sissy turned and looked directly at me, “Jack, sometimes I think that you’re a real gigolo.”
“Aw, come on, give me a break.”
Sissy grunted and turned to look out the front of the car as we drove toward the house. The gray cobblestone drive was lined on both sides by majestic thirty-foot tall Royal Palm trees. Periodically, the drive was lit by pools of soft white light spilling from overhanging ornate black lamps worthy of any municipal streetscape. A hundred yards up the drive it branched like a wishbone around a thick stand of palms that obscured both the main house and the guesthouse. I took the branch to the right leading to the guesthouse. As we rounded the stand of palms Sissy looked toward the main house and let out a quiet “Wow.”
The main house is a massive twelve-thousand square foot rectangle constructed to look as if it was built from solid four-foot square white Italian granite blocks. It reminded me more of a federal courthouse than a private residence. The front carport stood twenty feet high and would easily shelter twelve cars simultaneously as arriving guests made their way toward the fifteen-foot high dark mahogany French doors. While I never had occasion to see the interior of the main house I had every expectation that the interior lived up to the overdone standard set by the exterior. On one of my visits I had been invited to an afternoon in the main house, as the housekeeper and her husband were away on errands. Remembering a previous mention of the extensive security system in the main house I had declined the invitation. No sense tempting fate by recording my presence. I declined and opted to again spend the afternoon in the guest house, sans security system.
Sissy and I made our way to the guest house which was in no way shabby. Built of the same materials, but on a more realistic scale, the guest house was a relatively modest two-thousand square feet. I parked under the carport and we got our bags out of the car and walked up to the front door. As promised, the front door was unlocked. We entered the foyer that was already lit by the overhead chandelier. Very considerate, no one likes to come home to a dark house. Especially when running for your life.
On the small table in the foyer was a key and a note from Maria the housekeeper. The note said that the bar in the great room was fully stocked and that there were sandwich ingredients in the refrigerator. The note said to come up to the main house tomorrow anytime so Maria could develop a grocery list with us and go shopping to stock the guest house for the duration of our stay. I had seen Maria on a couple of my previous visits but had never had occasion to meet her. I had always been assured that Maria and her husband were very discrete and loyal to the mistress of the house. I guess it’s a little late to doubt that now.
We took a quick tour of the house. I was well acquainted with the layout but chose to participate in the tour as if it was my first. The well- appointed great room, with its sleek pale turquoise leather couches and chairs, has a wall of glass that opens onto a slate patio that in turn flows into the lawn at the edge of the canal. A round glass table and four matching bamboo chairs with Florida floral cushions sit on the patio shaded by a lattice roof covered by intertwined vines. One side of the great room opens to a small but very well-appointed kitchen that I had been told was reminiscent of one you would find in the French countryside. Having never been to the French countryside I had taken the word of my hostess at the time. I now passed this wisdom on to Sissy. In the front of the house a short hall leading from the area where the foyer joins the great room leads to two bedrooms, each with adjoining bathroom, before ending in a third bath. I carried Sissy’s suitcase into the back bedroom and tossed it on the bed. “I’ll take the front bedroom so you know that I am between the door and you. No one’s going to bother you here.”
Sissy’s face tightened, “That’s what we thought at the Pinnacle a few hours ago.”
I reached out and took her hands in mine, “Well, this time I know it’s true. I’m not relying on anyone else Sissy. I’m here to protect you until we get this thing straightened out. No one knows we’re here. No one is going to find us here.”
Sissy sighed, “I didn’t think anyone knew we were at the Pinnacle either.”
“I understand, but this is different. They must have followed us to the Pinnacle. No one followed us here. I took all kinds of precautions and doubled back several times on the way up here. You were sleeping. We’re safe now.”
Sissy looked into my face from eyes roiling with fear, “I’m counting on you Jack.”
Looking for a distraction I said, “Tell you what. You get settled in here and I’ll go out in the kitchen and see what kind of sandwich stuff there is. I’m starved. You hungry? We can have something to eat and a drink and then we can get some sleep.”
The tension in Sissy’s face seemed to relax just a bit, “Yeah, I guess I am hungry. Okay, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Sissy went into her room and I went into the kitchen to see what I could rustle up. I opened the refrigerator and found a twelve pack of Corona and a tray of assorted deli meats, cheeses, lettuce, and sliced tomatoes. I put the tray on the kitchen counter, opened a Corona, and began to rummage through the cabinets in search of bread and condiments. I had just located all necessary ingredients when Sissy came into the kitchen. She was barefooted and wearing a large pink tee-shirt with the word PINK on it. I guess they’re for the colorblind. The tee-shirt was large enough at the neck that it was draped down her shoulder and it ended at mid-thigh. Observing the gentle sway of her breasts, I was quite certain that she worn nothing, with the possible exception of a thong, under the shirt. She still had her make-up on but her hair was down from the bun she had it in earlier and it rested gently on her bare shoulders. There is no getting around it, Sissy is one drop dead sensuous woman. Such a waste that she is not interested in men.
Sissy caught me looking and said, “Looks like you found everything necessary. How about I do the assembly? I’ve heard stories from Juan about your kitchen skills. Is there another one of those beers?”
I stepped to the refrigerator to get Sissy a beer and she took my place at the counter and began to assemble two sandwiches. As she worked she asked, “How in the world does the housekeeper come up with a spread like this on such short notice at three in the morning?”
I pondered the question, “I don’t know. I guess when you work for people like these you must be ready for anything on a moment’s notice. She was probably glad that it was only two people coming rather than twenty.”
“You mean that these people might have twenty people arrive at three in the morning when they’re not even in the country?”
“Good point. I doubt that it would be twenty, but I have the feeling that sudden changes in plans are the norm for people like these.”
Sissy looked at me with a devilish glint in her eyes, “Hey, maybe they’ll come here while we’re still here and I’ll get to meet them.”
I was in the midst of a long pull on my beer and almost choked, “Ah . . . yeah . . . yeah . . . that would be something wouldn’t it.”
Sissy handed me a plate with a sandwich, “Can we eat outside on that patio? It’s really pleasant outside tonight and I could use some fresh air.”
“Sure. I’ll grab a couple more beers and meet you out there.”
The warm light in her face, born of our banter, faded, “That’s Okay. I’ll wait for you. Here give me your sandwich. I’ll carry the sandwiches and you carry the beers.” I realized that while she was attempting to mask it, Sissy was still scared. Real scared.
We sat on the patio and ate our sandwiches looking at the reflection of the moon on the water. The temperature was a very comfortable 80 degrees. A light breeze was coming in from the east and the humidity was down. Between the pleasant weather, the food and beer, and the adrenaline dissipating in our bodies, we both soon began to nod.
I took the initiative, “Okay Sissy, let’s go in and close the
drapes in the bedrooms and crash for a few hours. If we stay out here much longer, the sun will be coming up and our bodies will really be out of kilter.”
We took our dishes and empties to the kitchen and I walked Sissy to the back bedroom door. “Close your drapes. I’ll check the locks on all the doors and windows and be right down the hall in that room. No one knows we’re here. You get some rest. Just yell if you need anything.”
Sissy took my face into both of her hands, “Thank you Jack. You are the best.” With that she kissed me lightly, but meaningfully, on the lips, turned and went into the bedroom and closed the door. I stood facing the closed door speechless. I don’t know what was the most startling, the kiss or the compliment, Sissy had never before done either.
I checked the locks on the doors and windows and went to my bedroom. A hot shower relaxed some of the tension in my muscles. The past twelve hours had been like none I could remember. I pulled on a pair of boxers, put the nine millimeter on the nightstand, turned the bed down, and crawled under the top sheet with every hope of sleeping for at least two days. I was over tired. Unfortunately, now that I did have the opportunity to relax and sleep, my mind was racing. I was replaying the events of the past day looking for anything I had overlooked earlier. It was just like the final preparation for a big trial. The more I considered what I knew, the more I identified what I didn’t know. Who is this informant that said Sissy was in danger? Why come after Sissy now? If she was dead wouldn’t her prior testimony be admissible in the new trial? How did they find her apartment? Have they been to Cap’s like Tim thinks? Is that what happened to Allison? Oh God, poor Allison. Wrong time to want to be Sissy. How did they learn we were at Pinnacle? Was that guy a security officer at Pinnacle? If they found Sissy at Pinnacle could they find her here? What am I missing?
Cap's Place: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 1) Page 10
