Key Lucky

by Robert Tacoma

  She watched Lucky ride his bike down the street before going inside. When she opened the door, all three of her sisters were there waiting for her.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  20

  Dinner

  Taco Bob about shit when Lydia introduced her friend at the restaurant. This was the guy they were looking for. And it wasn’t just them looking for Lucky, since every cop in Key West wanted to break the case. And lately there were a lot of cops in Key West. A lot.

  Trish got upset when he told her he needed to go.

  “The Wilbur, it still has that problem with the float switch.”

  “I thought you were going to fix that bloody thing?”

  He just shrugged.

  “Well, don’t forget I have those people from the magazine coming by next week and I need a man by my side.”

  Taco Bob had too much on his mind at the moment to delve too far into the implications of that statement. Is that what he had become to her?

  As soon as he left Trish’s restaurant, he called Consuelo. “It’s me. I found Lucky. He’s with your sister.”

  “I just heard about it from Josephine. She said a guy came by the hotel with an FBI ID and a picture of Lucky with a beard.”

  “We need to bail on this, turn what we have over to the cops.”

  “And tell them what? We went into his trailer and found a picture of me wearing the Cross?”

  “Good point.”

  “Anyway, Josey says she doesn’t think the guy’s an FBI agent. Said she thinks he had some kind of tattoo behind his sunglasses.”

  “I’m headed back to the Sandy now. I’ll try to find Slip on the way.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  21

  Best Laid Plans

  All he had to do now was follow Lucky from the hotel back to his trailer, wait until he went to sleep, then break in and torture the fucker to find out where the treasure was hidden. A simple plan. The Reverend had never fully appreciated the beauty and power of simplicity until soon after The Song started.

  The trailer park thing earlier had been simple and worked great until the stupid cow of a manager handed him that dog. Damn but he hated the smell of dog shit. Had to go to the motel and change shirts.

  When he came back to stake out the trailer park he passed by a convertible with two guys trying to stop some little blonde honey from beating the shit out of another guy. Never a dull minute in this town.

  Found a good place to park where he could keep an eye on the Last Resort. Radio in the car didn’t work, didn’t need it, already had one in his head. Only played one song though.

  No sense in trying to read, The Song made it too hard to concentrate. So he just listened to The Song over and over. Once he’d sat down with a calculator and worked it out. He figured he was coming up on twenty thousand times he’d heard The Song in his head.

  While waiting for Lucky to show he decided the blonde had looked a little like the one in the picture. None of the guys looked like Lucky though.

  That he would have noticed.

  Lucky showed about an hour later. But before the Reverend could decide on whether or not to wait until dark, here comes Lucky again, leaving on his bike. Maybe he’d lead him to the rest of the gang who’d hit the museum? Might come in handy if there was a problem later during the interrogation. A problem like the guy had a bad heart and was allergic to torture.

  But our boy went to this old hotel and came out with some hot broad. The Reverend was pretty sure it was the same hotel he’d seen the babe with the screwy eyes. Not good.

  Followed them around town, then back to the hotel. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been spotted so far. Just take it easy and see if Lucky goes back home like a good little worker ant.

  It’s not hard to follow a bicycle down one of the main streets during the day, but the side streets at night are a different matter. It sucks. The Reverend didn’t want to get too close and scare the guy, have him spook and go to ground. Keep it simple, stay back a few blocks. Weren’t bicycles supposed to have lights at night? That would sure help.

  Did he turn here or the next block? The Reverend had his sunglasses off now so he could see. Try down this narrow street. Down here? What’s that? Shit, a big cemetery and a cop car. Slow and easy, wave to the nice policeman. That’s it. Now where did he go? Stop and look slowly around.

  “Looking for me?”

  Jesus H Fucking Christ! The guy’s standing there on his bike not six feet away. Okay, let’s keep this simple. Pull the Glock and…SHIT! Fucker’s got a gun! Hit the gas!

  The Reverend floored it and the Buick’s tires squealed. He heard three shots, at least one of which he felt hit the car. The fucker was shooting at him!

  Shit! Here comes the cop from the cemetery!

  There was no way in hell to outrun the cops in Key West. It’s an island with one road leading out and he’d already seen the cops watching the road when he’d first come into Key West.

  The Reverend hit the gas, took a quick right, then a left. He tossed the guns into some shrubs along the road, then turned left again before pulling over. While waiting for the cops, he burned the fake ID and the picture of the naked girl with the cross.

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw someone on a bicycle wave at him from the next block as the cops came up with lights flashing and guns drawn.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  22

  Law

  Okay, that was fun, in a scared shitless kinda way. It was one of the times Lucky wished he hadn’t thrown the .45 he’d used at the museum off the White Street Pier. He had though, so instead he’d had to pull the mini-Glock out of the waistband holster and put a few rounds in the side of the Buick.

  The adrenaline was still pumping as he pedaled away from the cemetery to Smathers Beach so he could sit and watch the water. And think.

  The big, scary freak with the tattoo around his eye definitely had a gun. So unless he really is some kind of cop, he’ll be busy with the police for a while. Maybe all night.

  Lucky gave some serious thought to loading his car with Spanish treasure and taking a chance on the police checkpoint on US1. Or leave most of it and just try to get out of town. But he didn’t like either of those ideas. He was working on a couple of things that might work if he could hang around another day or two.

  So he stopped by the store on his way back to the Last Resort Trailer Park.

  “Mrs. Murphy? I didn’t wake you did I?”

  “Oh, I was just resting my eyes in front of the TV. I had another of those days where it seems like everything that could go wrong, did. Poor Mister Snuffles got sick, then a man tried to kick him, then he almost got run over, then – ”

  “Mrs. Murphy, remember I told you about the roaches in my trailer? I just bombed it with eight cans and I was wondering if I could stay in the place next door since it’s vacant right now.”

  “Well, that unit really hasn’t been cleaned up yet, and the air conditioner is on its last legs.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be all right. I just don’t want to get sick from that bug spray. Just for tonight? I’ve got everything I need in my backpack.”

  “Well, I guess so since you’re such a responsible young man. You still working at Schooners?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have some coupons for a free drink, but they’re in my trailer. I can – ”

  “That’s sweet of you, but no thanks. My ex boyfriend – the two-timing worm – I heard he hangs out there.” A hand went down into her housecoat pocket. “Let me see if I have the key. Oh, I almost forgot. A guy came by here earlier, said he was with the FBI. A big man, and kind of scary looking. Looked more like a bill collector or bounty hunter if you asked me, and hey, after running this place for ten years, I should know. Anyway, he looked for you in your trailer and tried to kick Mister Snuffles when the poor dear had a little accident.”

  “Tall man with sunglasses wearing a dark, western-style suit?
Yeah, some practical joker from the bar must have called the museum robbery tip line and given the cops that guy’s name. I guess the cops gave him a pretty hard time after they picked him up, and then wouldn’t tell him who called. So he’s been bothering everyone who works there trying to find out.”

  “Is that so?”

  One of the things Lucky learned inside was how to lie on his feet. Seemed like it was getting easier to come up with some real whoppers. His landlady had drifted off, lost in thought.

  “Mrs. Murphy? The key? Thanks, I’ll drop it in the slot by your door when I go to work in the morning.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  23

  Common Sense

  Sometimes Taco Bob thought better when he paced, so he was pacing in the lounge of the Sandy Bottomed Girl.

  “Okay, so we know he’s still in Key West.”

  “And dating my sister.” Consuelo managed a big frown, which didn’t fool anyone.

  Skunk looked for just a second like he might say something, but for once didn’t. He rubbed his sore forehead instead and turned the silver coin over and over in his hand. He and Slip were taking turns holding their coin.

  Slip cleared his throat and looked around to make sure he had everyone’s attention.

  “Okay, we all agree it’d be none too smart to go to the cops. They get their hands on one of those pictures of Con and the Cross, well, the young lady here would have a lot of explaining to do, which I doubt the police would believe a word of.” He held up a hand to cut off Consuelo’s objections, but there weren’t any, she just nodded in agreement. Slip continued. “We don’t want to underestimate this guy. Anybody with that kind of clever cover, running with people with enough smarts and resources to pull off something like the museum heist, is a man to be reckoned with.” Nods all around. “And speaking of his partners. I doubt he’s the brains of the operation, probably just a player.”

  Taco Bob stopped pacing. “I’m not so sure. He’s doing something right to be in possession of the most valuable piece in the haul. I did some checking on the net, and I think it could be safely said that piece is one of the most valuable in the world. I looked at the picture from Lucky’s trailer with a magnifying glass, and it damn sure looks like the Emerald Cross.” Everyone gave that some thought. “You know, there is the possibility there aren’t any partners, and even if there are, they may already be gone, with the treasure.”

  “Or, like you say, that one fella might be it, and he could just be waiting for the right time to slip outta town.” No one had an argument with Skunk’s rare outburst of coherency. Consuelo stood up.

  “It’s me in that picture and it’s my problem. I’m going over there and get the rest of those damn pictures. And that computer and camera. Like now.”

  Taco Bob gently put his hand on her arm. “Hold on. He could be there.”

  “I’m not afraid of Lucky. If he’s there he’ll let me in, even at this hour.”

  “What if he’s not alone?”

  Consuelo looked at Slip. Her face was flushed. “I’m not afraid of any bimbos either.”

  “I meant, what if someone else from the gang is there? Those guys are most likely going to be armed. Heavily armed.”

  Consuelo sat back down. Taco Bob had started pacing again, but stopped.

  “Let’s try the common sense route. We all get some sleep, then go back to the trailer park together in the morning.” He looked at the others. “Agreed? Consuelo?”

  Everyone came up with a shrug or a nod. A time was set to meet in the morning. Slip and Skunk slipped into the night and Taco Bob made Consuelo look him in the eye and promise him she wouldn’t do anything stupid like go there alone. She agreed, but he still didn’t trust her.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  24

  Drive

  When Consuelo got back to the hotel Sara and Josephine had already gone to bed, but not Lydia.

  “You’re still up, Lydia? Care to take a drive?”

  “Sure. Got the car keys right here.”

  “You know, there might be trouble if we go over there.”

  “I’ve already got my Louisville Slugger in the backseat.”

  “I think you really are becoming clairvoyant.”

  “Not really. Though, I was going to suggest we take a drive. But to have a woman-to-woman talk about Lucky. The ball bat was in case you pissed me off.”

  Consuelo rolled her eyes. “Let’s ride.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  25

  Bad Ideas

  Slip Hanson earned his reputation as a first-rate backcountry fishing guide through hard work, as well as by being responsible, dependable, in tune with his surroundings, and level-headed.

  However, all this went straight out the window as soon as treasure was involved. Especially when someone like Skunk was around, constantly sharing his seemingly inexhaustible supply of bad ideas.

  “Slip, we need to stay on this, strike while the iron’s hot, take the bull by the horn’s, throw grease on the fire, Skin the polecat with – ”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. Be quiet a minute, I’m thinking.” From the marina they’d gone straight to the front porch of the tiny house where Slip stayed. Skunk looked at his watch and realized his turn was almost up, so he worked the coin around in his hands faster while his partner lined out the plan. “Okay, how’s this? We get a cab, go over to the trailer park, break into the trailer, and tell the guy, Lucky, we’re going to turn his ass over to the cops if he doesn’t give us the rest of those pictures of Blondie and a share of the treasure.”

  Without a word Skunk jumped to his feet and pulled out his cellphone. He had the cab company number already in the phone. A minute later it was done. But Slip wasn’t.

  “I can’t wait to tell Taco Bob how we took the initiative here. That common sense route sounds good and all, but hey, we’re talking about some serious treasure here, not to mention a foolproof plan.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  26

  Stakeout

  Lydia parked behind a small stand of Australian pines across the street from the trailer park. She could see the entrance to the park from the lone streetlight by the office. She thought about putting the top up on the car, but decided to leave it down in case Consuelo needed to get in really quickly. She got the bat out of the backseat and settled in to wait.

  They’d had their chat, and as she suspected, Consuelo didn’t really care if Lydia went out with Lucky. She even started to offer some sexual details of her night with Lucky. Lydia said she’d rather find out those kinds of things on her own.

  So now she had those thoughts to keep her company while her sister snuck over to Lucky’s trailer.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  27

  Quiet of the Night

  Consuelo moved slowly, stopping every few steps to listen. She couldn’t move as quietly as Sara, but almost. The years of martial arts instruction she’d gone though while growing up in California included some time in the wilderness learning stealth and survival.

  The only sound was the breeze in a few palms and the whirling, roaring, and rattling air conditioners in each trailer. The back window in a far unit showed the unmistakable faint blue glow of insomnia television. Lucky’s trailer sat peacefully in the middle of the second row. The air conditioner was off.

  After waiting a few minutes to see if it came back on, the figure in black shined a tiny red light under the trailer to check for booby-traps. She cautiously pulled the key out of its hiding place and slowly, carefully, opened the door.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  28

  Cab

  As much as they wanted to, the cops finally decided they couldn’t hold the Reverend for someone shooting his car, having a record, or for the overwhelming smell of burning plastic and paper in his car. So after an hour of questioning at the scene, and another hour of the same at the police station on the next island, they reluctantly kicked him loose.

  Without his car.
Bastards. Typical cop bullshit about evidence. That and one of the bullets hit something, and the Buick was dripping gas. Big production there. Just before they took him over to the police station he saw a shiny new HazMat truck pull up and here comes three guys in white plastic suits looking anxious and eager. Their enthusiasm dropped considerably when they discovered it was only a gas can in the trunk with a bullet hole. So he used the pay phone outside the police station and called a cab.

  By the time the cab showed he knew where he wanted to go. Figured since he was already on Stock Island, might as well stop by.

  “Last Resort Trailer Park.”

  “Popular place tonight, I just dropped a fare off over there.”

  “Actually, I need to get something first. Take me to my motel, the one just over the bridge.”

  “The one with the long name? I think it’s the Big Pelican Nice Lucky Motel.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  The cops obviously hadn’t found either of the guns he’d tossed in the bushes earlier. Get the spare from his room, then go see how nice Lucky thought it was to see him at two am.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  29

  Thoughts

  Lydia didn’t like to think about the amount of time since she’d been with a man, which was months. She did like thinking about Lucky though. An interesting guy. Sharp in an understated, quiet way. Not too hard on the eyes either: nice smile, overall good-looking guy with big, strong hands. When Lydia realized she was stroking the ball bat it went in the backseat.

  Too bad he might be in a little trouble. Okay, who was she kidding? If they caught Lucky he’d be going away to camp for a long, long time. And that picture of Consuelo is going to be a problem as well. If he isn’t there, little sister definitely needs to at least get those other pictures. Sure wish she’d show up, the mosquitoes are getting bad.