Fallen Hunter (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

She smiled again and said, “Well, like I said, I get off in a few minutes. If I can bring you anything, just name it.”

  Was she coming on to me, too? Two women in the last two hours? I looked her over and though she was pretty, as was Tina, neither held a candle to my late wife. I kind of tapped my left ring finger to the box I held, drawing her attention to the ring I still wore and said, “Thanks, Susan. Good night.”

  She actually pouted just a bit and said, “Good night, Mister McDermitt.”

  I headed up the stairs, wondering about the two women I'd just met. Both were very attractive and I'm pretty sure both were hitting on me. But, why? One was a good ten years younger than me and one not much older than my oldest daughter. I'm not an overly good looking man, I knew that. A lot of water under the keel. I stay in shape and still have all my hair, but either woman could have her pick of much better looking and younger guys. Here, on Key West, they arrive and depart at regular intervals. Maybe that was it. Women looking for something more than just a weekend or one night stand.

  I got to the room and used the key card to open the door. As is my habit, I pushed it open just a crack and listened. Hearing nothing, I pushed it the rest of the way open and walked in. Pescador was sitting where I'd left him, his big tail pounding a beat on the wall.

  “Supper's on, boy,” I said and he walked over, sniffing the air. I opened the box and set it on the floor, in front of him. He looked down at the two hogfish filets and then looked back up at me, expectantly.

  “You know,” I said, “you don't have to wait for permission every time.” He simply stood there, looking at me, licking his lips.

  “Go ahead,” I said and he tore into the fish.

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered.

  6

  Escape to Content Keys

  I woke before sunrise, used the head and took Pescador outside for a walk along the breakwater, across Roosevelt from the hotel. When he'd taken care of his business, we went back to the room and I gathered up my gear. Not that there was much to gather, just my dirty clothes from the day before, which I put into a plastic trash bag and stuffed in my go bag. I told Pescador to wait and I'd bring breakfast back, then headed down to the hotel restaurant. I ordered a big breakfast and asked the waitress if she could put some scrambled eggs in a box, with some bacon and sausage for my dog.

  “How big's your dog?” she asked.

  “Big dog, about a hundred pounds,” I said.

  “Got it,” she said and headed off to the kitchen.

  I was nearly finished with my breakfast when she brought the box to me. I opened it and looked inside. Pescador was going to be happy.

  “Think that'll be enough for him?” she asked.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Thanks.”

  She left the bill on the table and I left a generous tip, went to the counter and paid the bill. I took Pescador's food up to him and he acted like he was starving.

  “I might have to get you checked for tape worms,” I told him. “You eat like a horse.”

  We took another walk along the breakwater and sat on the rocks to watch the sun come up. Though it was January, it looked like it was going to be a pretty warm day, already in the upper sixties. Once the sun was up, we went back to the room, grabbed my go bag, and then went back down to the lobby to check out. I was surprised to see Susan behind the desk.

  “Pulling a double?” I asked.

  She smiled and said, “Yeah, Charlie, the lady that works the day shift called to say her husband wasn't feeling well and she was taking him to the doctor. So, the manager called and asked if I could fill in.”

  She took my card, closed out my room account and handed me the receipt, saying, “I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mister McDermitt. And I'm sorry if I was too forward last night.”

  “Forward?” I asked. “I didn't notice.”

  “It's just there aren't a lot of decent men on this island,” she said. “And the tourists are always trying to get with the local women, if you know what I mean.”

  “Don't worry about it, kid,” I said.

  “I hope you'll come back and stay with us again,” she said.

  “I'll see you around, Susan,” I said, which caused her to smile all the more.

  I glanced up at the clock on the wall, noting it was a few minutes before eight. I looked out through the front door and saw Lawrence's taxi pull up, right on time, just like he'd said. I picked up my bag and headed out the door and climbed into the front seat, after letting Pescador in the back.

  “Hope you don't mind my dog, Lawrence,” I said. “Forgot to tell you I wasn't traveling alone.”

  “No problem, mon. He prolly cleaner dan a lot a di tourists I carry aroun. Where yuh goin on Stock Island, sar?”

  “Oceanside Marina,” I replied.

  “Yuh know, I picked up a coupla fares lass night at Blue Heaven. Miss Tina, she ask bout yuh.”

  “She did?” I asked. “What’s with all these local women? The desk clerk here at the hotel was hitting on me last night.”

  “Don know bout her,” he said. “But, I know Miss Tina is a fine lady. Married once, but he was a drunk and run off. I guess a lot a di local ladies be lonely. Not a lotta good mons on dis island. Dem dat is, get snatched up quick like. I can tell yuh a good mon, why I was wondrin bout yuh asking bout dat no good Santiago.”

  I've always been a good read on people and I sized Lawrence up to be a decent man, someone that could not only be trusted, but relied upon. “Lawrence,” I said, as we crossed the short bridge to Stock Island, “I'm down here to help a friend. He's in the same sort of trouble with Santiago that he tried with you, only about a hundred times worse. He does have a family though, and lives here on Stock Island.”

  “Yuh must be talkin bout Cap'n Trent,” he said, surprising me and noting the surprise on my face, he added, “Is a small island, sar.”

  Without a second thought, I knew this man could be trusted and said, “Yeah, I'm taking him and his family up the Keys a way. Then I'm coming back down here to skipper his boat and see if there's some way to get him out of this mess.”

  “Well,” he said, “yuh watch yuh back, mon. Dat Santiago be a bad mon.”

  “Yuh bettah watch yuh front too, mon,” he added, laughing, “Dem ladies be trollin fah a mon jest like yuh.”

  We pulled up on the backside of the marina and I got out, handing him a twenty.

  “No sar, dis ride be on me,” he protested.

  “No way, Lawrence. You take this and keep your ears open for me, okay.” I took another of his cards and wrote my cell phone number on the back. “If you hear anything on the coconut telegraph that you think I might be interested in, call me and leave a message.”

  “I do dat, mon,” he said, taking the twenty and the card. I opened the back door and Pescador bounded out and went directly to a banyan tree and hiked his leg, as Lawrence drove away. We walked over to the marina office and I told the manager that I was leaving, but would be back later today in the Rampage and to hold my slip for me.

  We went to the private dock, unlocked the gate and walked out to the Grady. While I untied her, Pescador jumped aboard and found his spot on the bow. I turned the key and the big Mercury outboard revved to life, then settled to a low idle. Casting off the stern line, I put the engine in gear and idled over to the gas dock. I tied off, just past the pumps, shut the engine off and climbed up to the dock.

  Trent, his wife, and two small kids came around the corner of the building. Trent carrying two large duffel bags, and his wife was carrying a small case, which I assumed held all the families toiletries and such.

  “Right on time,” I said. “Did anyone see you walking over here?”

  “Just Miss Churray,” the wife said. “She lives at the end of our road, at the gate. Donna see's everything.”

  It dawned on me that I didn't know her or the kids names and here I was about to take them to my house to stay without me, for who knows how long.

  I gave her a hand, as s
he stepped aboard, saying, “I'm Jesse, Mrs. Trent.”

  She stepped down lightly, turned and said, “It's Charlotte, but my friends call me Charlie.”

  “Welcome aboard, Charlie,” I said, as I helped the little boy down to the deck.

  Trent said, “The boy there, he's Carl, Junior. The girl's name is Patty.”

  Helping the scared looking little girl to the deck, I said, “Welcome aboard, Patty and Carl. My dog's up in the bow, if you want to go see him?”

  Trent handed me the bags and climbed down to the deck, as the kids tentatively moved toward the bow. Pescador lifted his big head from where he'd been laying and I said, “Pescador, we have visitors. Say hi to the kids and make room up there.”

  The kids looked at me as I said it, then looked back to the big, shaggy dog. Pescador barked once and wagged his thick tail, thumping against the hull, before stepping down off the seat and standing between the two front benches, in the bow. Both kids looked at each other and smiled, then moved further up into the bow and started petting him and talking to him.

  “Fisherman, huh?” Trent said. “How'd you come up with that name?”

  “It just came to me,” I said. “You'll find out soon enough. He's going to stay at the house with you. I think you'll find he's a pretty useful guide.”

  “What I heard was,” Trent said, “the guy that killed your wife had his throat torn open by a dog. Same dog?”

  “One and the same, Trent,” I replied. “He'll likely do the same to anyone that threatens those kids.”

  As I started up the engine, we both looked forward where the kids were hugging and petting Pescador, whose tail was beating against both fish coolers. I cast off the line bowline and shoved the Grady out away from the dock, then put it into gear and started slowly idling away from the marina and into the channel.

  It was a nice easy ride back to my island home, calm seas and blue skies all the way. Trent and I both half stood at the helm, one leg cocked on the wide bench seat. The two kids finally got tired of petting Pescador and sat on the starboard bow seat, with their mother on the port bow seat and Pescador standing between them, with his front paws up on the bow and his ears blowing in the wind. Several times, I glanced at Trent and could see myself in his face. It was obvious he was a man who loved the sea.

  As we approached the house, through the tunnel of mangroves, I pushed the release buttons on both key fobs and the spring loaded doors slowly eased open.

  “You can use this boat and the white skiff, Trent,” I said, “I'd appreciate you not using Alex's red skiff.”

  “Wow,” he said. “You really got quite a place out here. That Rampage is beautiful.”

  “There's only one bed in the main house,” I said.

  “There's more than one house?” Trent exclaimed.

  “Yeah, on the north end of the island are two bunkhouses, if the main house isn't enough room. No kitchens in those, though. There’s a huge grill I built between the two that you can cock on with driftwood. Only one of the bunkhouses is completely finished. I still have to paint the other and put the mattresses on the bunks. You'll be plenty comfortable anywhere. There's a long dock on the north side, too. Great place for the kids to play in the water.”

  “I really appreciate all this, Jesse,” he said. “Still don't understand why you'd want to help a near stranger, though.”

  I turned the Grady in the basin and backed in, next to my skiff. Trent helped me make her fast, while Pescador took the kids on a tour of the island. I handed the two duffle bags up to Trent on the dock and he took his wife's hand and helped her up. She hadn't talked much on the trip, but as I stepped up onto the dock with them, she suddenly hugged me, sobbing softly into my shoulder. After a few seconds, she composed herself and stepped away.

  “Whatever your reason, Jesse,” she said, “I'm very grateful.” Then she turned and went up the steps to the deck. I showed Trent the hand cranks for the doors and how the fobs worked, then showed him where all the fishing and snorkeling gear was stored and everything else he might need, in the many storage closets around the dock area.

  “If you continue up the channel we just came out of, about a hundred yards, there's a hole on the northwest side of the channel that's good for grouper and lobster. About a half mile further, there's several cuts through the banks at Upper Harbor Key. There's snook there on a falling tide. I've speared some nice sized hogfish all over the flats up there. Jimmy and Angie will be up here in the morning, with enough vegetables to fill the fridge and there's a whole pantry full of canned stuff down at the bunkhouse.”

  He took everything in stride, checking some of the fishing gear, obviously familiar with everything. “A man could hole up here forever, it looks like.”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “If the man likes fish.”

  “We do,” Trent said. “You built all this yourself?”

  “Over several years, yeah,” I said.

  Looking up, he said, “Now, that's hard to come by. Holy wood?”

  “Yeah, good eye,” I said. “A friend had a lignum vitae fall a few years ago and gave me the wood. Had to hire a damn semi to haul it up to a lumber yard in Homestead, then back again. It was enough to do all the floors. Walls are mostly mahogany.”

  “Mahogany? You're shittin, me,” he said as we started up the steps. I unlocked the door and handed him the key, then we continued to the back deck, where Charlie was sitting on the bench, watching the kids play with Pescador.

  When we walked up, she looked at me and asked, “Is it true what Carl said? Your dog killed a man?”

  “You don't have anything to worry about,” I said. “The man had just stuck a switchblade in my chest. Pescador's an extremely loyal and protective friend. He's taken to those two kids and will make a great babysitter.”

  We heard a squeal from down below and looked to see both kids piling on top of the big dog, laughing and squirming. Pescador just laid there and let them have fun. Truth is, it was probably going to be a lot of fun for him to have someone to play with.

  Pointing to the key in Trent's hand, I said, “That opens both bunkhouses, too. Come on, I'll show you the house.”

  The three of us walked inside. Trent dropped the two duffels on the floor next to the door and Charlie walked into the head, with the little case she was carrying. Trent looked all around the small house and nodded approvingly.

  “The lights are twelve volt, powered by six deep cycle marine batteries. They're charged by a wind turbine and solar panels. Out back is a cold water shower and in the head is a hot water shower, there's a 2000 gallon cistern on the roof in back, and a propane water heater in a closet in the bedroom.”

  “Hasn't been a lot of rain, since Wilma came through,” he said.

  “I pumped it full from the Revenge two days ago. She has a desalinization unit on board. You can bring a couple mattresses from the unfinished bunkhouse up here and lay them out on the floor in the bedroom. There's plenty of room in there. I already cleared the dresser and put all my clothes aboard the Revenge.”

  “When you going back down?” he asked.

  “Right now,” I said. “Unless you have any questions, or anything else you can tell me about Santiago.”

  “Either him or one of his men will be at the dock, before you shove off,” he said. “To give you the coordinates for the pickup. What're you gonna do then?”

  “Tell him to piss up a rope,” I said.

  Trent laughed hard and long at that. Finally, he got control and said, “He's not the kinda guy that takes no for an answer real well.”

  “Well, no is all he's gonna get,” I said. “Once I see how he reacts to being bullied, that'll tell me which way to tack.”

  Charlie came out of the head, I guess she was arranging everything to her liking. “God,” she said, “I had to go so bad.”

  “You should have said something,” I said. “The Grady has a small head, under the center console.”

  We all laughed at that, then I said, “Spe
aking of which, the head, as you just found out, is a marine head. It discharges into a septic system that flows into a deep well, off on the west side of the island.” Turning to Trent I said, “Like I said, it's only a 2000 gallon cistern, so with four of you, I'd recommend a jump off the dock to clean up, now and then.”

  “We'll be fine, Jesse,” Charlie said. “Are you leaving soon?”

  “Now's as good a time as any,” I said. “Cell service is sketchy up here, best spot I've found was right at the top of the front steps. If you need anything, it'd probably be better if you call Angie to bring it up.”

  We walked out onto the deck and I whistled once. Pescador came running up the deck and sat in front of me. “Pescador,” I said. “I'm leaving. You stay here and have fun with those kids.” I nodded toward the kids waiting at the bottom of the steps, then pointed to Trent and said, “He's in charge.”

  He turned his big head toward Trent expectantly, and I told him, “Tell him to do something.”

  “Go play,” he said and Pescador bounded back down the steps to the squealing kids.

  “One last thing, about him,” I said. “When you put food in front of him, he won't eat until you tell him to.”

  “Unbelievable,” Trent said.

  “Yep, that's what I keep saying.”

  We walked back down to the dock and Trent helped me untie the Revenge. I climbed up to the bridge and started the engines. I waved down to them, as I put both engines in forward.

  “Be careful, my friend,” Trent said.

  “Thanks for everything, Jesse,” Charlie said.

  “Y'all just enjoy your little vacation,” I said back. “With luck, I might even catch a shrimp or two for ya.”

  I idled out into my channel, then turned northeast into Harbor Channel. The tide was falling so even though it was a longer route, I didn't want to chance the shallower channels to the south. I followed Harbor Channel until it turned north, just past the light at Harbor Key Bank, into the Gulf of Mexico. Then I headed northwest and turned on the sonar. I had fifteen feet under the keel now, so I nudged the throttles and brought the big boat up onto plane.