“I hope you made a copy of the crossword,” Dino said, scribbling away.
“If I hadn’t, I would have already strangled you and dumped your body over Virginia.”
Stone had fi nished reading the Times when they started their descent into their refueling point, a small airfield at Monks Corner, South Carolina, which offered fuel prices a couple of bucks less than nearby Charleston.
Half an hour later they were climbing back to altitude, and two hours after that they were crossing the south coast of Florida at last over open water. Key West lay, invisible, another hundred miles south. Dino was squirming in his seat.
“I’ve never flown over open water,” Dino said.
“The life raft is on the seat behind me,” Stone said, “and the life jackets are in a blue zipper bag right behind my seat. In the event of an unscheduled landing, you put on a life jacket, strap yourself into a rear seat, and when the airplane has stopped moving, open only the top half of the door. We’ll float for a while, but if you open the bottom half, the Atlantic Ocean will join us inside immediately. You wrap the rope attached to the raft firmly around your wrist and hand, push the raft out the top of the door and jerk the cord hard. The raft will inflate. You hold it there until I can get out, then you pull the tab that inflates your life jacket and join me in the raft. I’ll bring along the handheld radio and the beacon that broadcasts our position to the Coast Guard via satellite.”
“Then what?”
“Then we wait for the Coast Guard to show up, remove us from the life raft, give us a cup of coffee and take us to a convenient land location.
“How long do we wait?”
“A few hours, maybe less.”
“A few hours in a tiny life raft with you is all I need to complete my day.”
“It’s a character-building experience.”
“And then?”
“We make our way to Key West by available transportation, and my insurance company buys me a new airplane. Feel better now?”
“And I lose all my stuff?”
“No, your household insurance reimburses you for your clothes and buys you a new set of golf clubs and tennis racket.”
“You make it all sound so attractive,” Dino said.
“Don’t worry, it will scare the shit out of you,” Stone replied. FIR S T, THE Y S AW some small islands to their left. Dino looked at the chart. “The Keys don’t run north-south,” he said.
“You’re very observant. They run
northeast-southwest, and
toward the end more west. Look.” He pointed out the window as an island swam into view through the haze. Key West Approach had them down to 1600 feet now.
“N123TF, Key West Approach, report Key West Airport in sight.”
Stone looked to his left and saw an airplane take off in the distance. “N123TF, airport in sight.”
“Fly direct Key West VOR, then enter a left downwind for runway niner. Contact Key West Tower on 118.2. Have a good day.”
“Thanks, and good day,” Stone replied, then switched frequencies. “Key West Tower, N123TF at the VOR, left downwind for niner.”
“N123TF, Key West Tower, cleared to land.”
Stone pointed as they approached the island. “We can see everything from here.” The island was laid out before them, every inch of it. “You been here before?”
“Once, a weekend with the ex. You?”
“My first time.”
Stone turned final at 500 feet and lined up on the runway. He made a smooth landing, and Ground Control directed him to parking.
They unloaded their gear, left refueling instructions and picked up their rent-a-car. Twenty minutes later they were parking in front of the Marquesa.
“Looks like somebody’s house,” Dino said. But after they had checked in and followed a bellman out a rear door, they found themselves in a large courtyard with two pools, surrounded by small cottages. Stone and Dino were shown to a pair of them connected by a front porch, and were soon sitting on the porch in rockers sipping something tropical with a little umbrella in it, ogling some girls in the pool at their feet.
“So,” said Dino, “when do we start looking for this kid, Evan Keating?”
“What’s your hurry?” Stone murmured, sipping his drink and watching the girls. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”
4
TO REACH THE restaurant, Stone and Dino walked out the front entrance of the hotel and to the street corner, to the front door of the dining room. It was a tastefully decorated space, with a bar to the left and a dozen or fifteen tables to the right. An attractive blonde greeted them.
“You must be Mr. Barrington and Mr. Bacchetti,” she said, “according to my list.”
“That’s us,” Stone replied. “And we have another gentleman joining us.”
“I’m Janet,” she said. “Right this way.” She seated them at a corner table and left menus. A waiter materialized, greeted them and asked for their drinks order.
“I don’t suppose you have Knob Creek bourbon,” Stone said resignedly.
“You may suppose we do,” the waiter replied. “We have another customer who forced us to order it.”
“On the rocks, please.”
Dino ordered his Scotch.
The restaurant was filling up rapidly; even all the bar stools were taken. “Busy place,” Stone said.
“The food must be good,” Dino replied. “Hey, here’s Tommy!”
He stood up to greet their old acquaintance as he entered the restaurant, and so did Stone. Shortly, Tommy had a margarita before him.
“You’re drinking that tropical swill?” Dino asked.
“After a while down here, it gets to be unpatriotic if you don’t,”
Tommy replied.
“How’s retirement treating you, Tommy?” Stone asked.
“Who’s retired? A week after I hit town, I was a detective again.”
“Working homicide?”
“Are you kidding? You’re in Paradise; we get like one homicide a year, if we’re lucky, and it’s nearly always perfectly clear who the killer is. He’s usually standing there, holding a gun or a claw hammer in his hand, when we walk in. The only problem is getting him not to talk too fast while we’re taking his statement.”
“What keeps you busy, then?” Dino asked.
“Drug stuff, burglaries, mostly small-time. We get a lot of drifters down here, especially in the winter. They at least know they’re not going to freeze to death, and they can steal enough to eat. We get the usual domestic stuff, too, only more of it is gay than in New York.”
“What’s the job like?”
“Pretty interesting. The first thing I had to do was to train my partner, a kid named Daryl, whose acne had not yet cleared up. He was the chief’s nephew at the time.”
“Sounds like a drag.”
“No, he was quick to learn, and he’s turned into a pretty good detective. His uncle is gone now, and so is the guy who replaced him. Last week, the chief and two captains resigned over a scandal.”
“What kind of scandal?”
“Fixing parking tickets, harassing gay guys on bicycles, hiring girlfriends as secretaries and fucking them in the supply room, drinking on the job, you name it. Nothing big, just a lot of continuous horseshit. I’m currently acting chief of detectives—all six of them. They offered me the chief’s job, but I’m too old for the politics and the PR horseshit.”
“I don’t blame you,” Dino said. “I’m running the squad at the Nineteenth, and that’s almost more politics than I can stand.”
“What’s the most interesting case you’ve worked down here, Tommy?” Stone asked.
“Oh, that’s an easy one,” Tommy laughed. “We had a big drugs, murder, sex thing right after I signed on that involved some prominent locals, among them the local tennis pro. You remember a player named Chuck Chandler?”
“The guy who choked in the Wimbledon final some years back?”
“That’s the guy. The sports pages called it th
e Chuck Choke, and it stuck.”
“I hope he didn’t murder anybody.”
“Nah, he was pretty much the dope in the thing. There was one very hot babe mixed up in it, though. She’s doing time right now, ought to be out soon.”
“What’s it like living here?” Stone asked.
“Beautiful in the winter, spring and fall; hot as hell in the summer, but no worse than New York. At least we get the breeze. You like boats?”
“Sure, who doesn’t?”
“I’ll take you out for some snorkeling,” Tommy said. “Snorkeling and a few drinks. We got a very nice little yacht club here, and I’ll take you there for dinner. Tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” Stone and Dino said simultaneously.
“So,” Tommy said, “what brings you guys down here?”
“It’s winter, isn’t it?” Dino answered.
“I’m running a legal errand,” Stone said. “I’ve got to fi nd a guy and get him to sign some papers.”
“Anybody I know?”
“I doubt it. Kid hates his father, but the old man needs his signature on some papers to sell the family business. Means a lot of bucks for the whole family, the kid, too, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble to persuade him.” Stone showed Tommy the old photo of Evan. Tommy looked at it and screwed his face up. “What’s his name?”
“Evan Keating,” Stone replied. “Know him?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Tommy replied. “I busted him in a drug case yesterday, but it ain’t going to stick.”
“Do you know where I can fi nd him?”
Tommy motioned his chin in the direction of the bar. “Right over there, third stool from the left.”
Stone looked toward the bar. The man’s back was mostly to him, but he could catch a little profile. He was heavier than in his college photo and had longer hair, and he was dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and a flowered shirt, with the tail out, Hawaiian-style. He was talking to a beautiful girl on the next bar stool, with long, honeycolored hair, dressed in tight jeans and a leather jacket.
“Excuse me a minute,” Stone said, rising and walking toward the bar. He walked up to the two people, who turned and looked at him. Evan Keating had a thin, straight nose and bright blue eyes.
“Mr. Keating?” Stone said. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I just wanted to introduce myself.” He handed the young man his card. “My name is Stone Barrington, and I’ve been sent by my law firm to Key West to deliver some documents for your signature.”
“You must think I’m somebody else,” Keating said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Keating, but we could get together for a few minutes tomorrow morning. I’m sure you will find our conversation greatly to your advantage.”
Keating regarded him evenly for a moment without speaking, then he said, “Why don’t we step outside for a moment and discuss this?”
“Of course,” Stone replied.
Keating got up and led the way out, while Stone followed. Outside on the sidewalk a bench had been placed as a waiting area for the restaurant, and Keating motioned Stone to sit down. Stone sat down next to Keating, his back to the restaurant door.
“I know this will come as a surprise to you, but my law fi rm represents Elijah Keating’s Sons, and . . .”
Something struck the back of Stone’s neck, and the night exploded in stars.
5
STONE SWAM BACK into consciousness, opened his eyes, then closed them again. Some sort of bright light had blinded him. A cool hand was resting on his forehead.
“Mr. Barrington?” a woman’s low voice said.
“What?” Stone replied. He tried to open his eyes again but it didn’t work.
“Can you look at me, please?”
“It’s too bright,” Stone said. Immediately, the brightness disappeared.
“Is that better?”
“Okay, yes.”
“Can you open your eyes now?”
Stone opened his eyes and found his vision filled with the face of a woman. “What happened?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” she replied.
Dino’s face replaced the woman’s, and Tommy Sculley was right behind him. “We found you face down on the sidewalk,” he said.
“I liked the other face better,” Stone said and tried to sit up straighter.
“Let’s get him up on the bench,” the woman said, and hands gripped his arms and helped him upward.
“What happened to you, Stone?” Dino asked.
“How the hell should I know?” Stone said irritably. “I was unconscious, wasn’t I?”
“Yeah, that was kind of the point,” Dino said. “Do you have any idea how you got that way?”
“Well, I was sitting at a table with you and Tommy, having a drink, and then I woke up here.”
“Nothing in between?” Dino asked.
“I’ve got a headache,” Stone said, rubbing the back of his neck and fi nding it sore.
The woman spoke again. “He should really be in a hospital,” she said.
“I don’t need to go to a hospital,” Stone retorted. “I need some aspirin and a drink.”
She explored the back of his head and his neck with her fi ngers, and he winced when she got to his neck. “Seems like a blow to the back of the neck, rather than his head, so I think we can discount a skull fracture or a concussion.”
“Who the hell are you?” Stone grumbled. “And where’s that drink?”
“Oh, all right, give him what he wants,” she said, sounding exasperated. “Get him into bed and keep him there until morning, and call me if he’s still disoriented when he wakes up.” She handed Dino a card. “Good night, Mr. Barrington,” she said. “I hope you feel better tomorrow.”
Tommy put a glass of bourbon and two aspirin into Stone’s hand.
“There you go.”
Stone washed down the aspirin with the bourbon and took a deep breath. “That’s better,” he said.
“Can you stand up?” Tommy asked.
“Sure I can.” He stood up and held on to Tommy’s shoulder for a moment. “I’m hungry. We hadn’t ordered dinner, had we?”
“No, we hadn’t, but the doctor said you should be in bed.”
“What doctor?”
“The woman who just washed her hands of you and left,” Dino said. “Come on, Tommy, let’s get him inside; he’s not going to cooperate.”
The three men went back into the restaurant and sat down at their table.
Stone was still rubbing his neck.
“You want some ice on that?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself,” Stone said. “People are staring at me as it is.” He took another slug of the bourbon, and it began reaching the places it should, including the back of his neck.
“Now, will you guys tell me what the hell happened?”
“I directed you to a guy at the bar,” Tommy said. “You showed me his picture. Evan Keating?”
“I don’t remember that,” Stone said.
“You walked over to him and apparently introduced yourself, gave him your card, then the two of you walked outside.”
“I don’t remember that, either,” Stone said, sipping more bourbon.
“Tommy and I were talking for a couple of minutes, not paying attention to you, then Janet came over and said you were lying on the sidewalk outside, and that’s where we found you.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Stone said. “Are you saying that Evan Keating knocked me unconscious, and that I didn’t see it coming?”
“Seems like you caught one on the back of the neck,” Tommy said. “Dino, did you see anybody follow them out?”
“I wasn’t looking that way,” Dino replied.
“Neither was I,” Tommy said.
“And I don’t remember any of it,” Stone said. A waiter brought menus, and they ordered, and someone brought a plate of hummus and some bread.
“I�
��m hungry,” Stone said.
“That’s probably a good sign,” Tommy replied. “If you were badly hurt, you wouldn’t be thinking about food and booze.”
“He hardly ever thinks about anything else,” Dino said, “except women.”
“Speaking of women,” Stone said, “who was that doctor? She looked pretty good.”
Dino handed Stone her card. “I think he’s going to be okay,” he said to Tommy.
6
STONE WOKE UP the following morning with his headache nearly gone. He took a couple of aspirin, ordered breakfast and found Dino on the front porch waiting for him.
“How you feeling?” Dino asked.
“A lot better. I still have a little headache, but I took some aspirin.”
“You remember anything else that happened last night?”
Stone thought about that. “Yeah, I think I talked to Evan Keating at the bar, but just for a minute.”
“Do you know how you got outside?”
Stone thought some more. “He suggested we talk outside, I think.”
“You remember anybody following you outside?”
“No, Keating was ahead of me.”
“Was he with anybody?”
“There was a girl, I think, but I thought he left her at the bar.”
“Was she beefy, muscular?”
“No, she was slim and attractive.”
“Then she either packs a hell of a punch or she hit you with something solid.”
“I don’t remember her going outside.”
“She could have been behind you.”
“I guess.”
“What did you say to Keating at the bar?”
Stone replayed the scene in his head again. “Not much. I told him I had some business with him and suggested we get together in the morning to discuss it. I think I told him . . . that he would like what I have to say, or something like that.”
“Maybe he didn’t get that message and thought you were some sort of threat,” Dino said.
“Didn’t Tommy say that he busted the guy on some sort of drug thing?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t hold up, and he was released.”
“Well, maybe the cops got an address for Keating.”
“I’ll call Tommy,” Dino said. He produced his cell phone, spoke briefly to Tommy Sculley and hung up. “Hotel La Concha,” Dino said. “I think that’s Spanish for ‘conch.’ It’s on Duval Street.”
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