Gator A-GO-GO

by Tim Dorsey

  A young man bought a cell phone with a credit card.

  Guillermo froze the image. “So that’s what Andy McKenna looks like now.”

  He unfroze the video and watched the other side of the screen. The youth climbed into a pickup with a Florida Gators bumper sticker.

  Guillermo ejected the tape and took a wide step around a slick of blood spreading from the store’s owner.

  Serge slapped the water’s surface in the kiddie pool. “Who’s the next lucky winner?”

  Cody climbed up.

  “Are you digging it? I’m digging it!” Serge reached over the side of the pool for his plastic specimen jar and dipped it in the water. “I’m saving this sample forever!… Who’s next?”

  Students continued swapping places. Andy walked around the front of the pickup and grabbed his phone off the tire. He pressed buttons.

  “Agent Ramirez?”

  “Andy, where are you? I’ve been driving up and down A1A!”

  “No. It isn’t safe.”

  “You’re less safe where you are.”

  “You don’t understand Serge. There’s no telling what he’s capable of if you show up.”

  “Think he might be with Guillermo?”

  “At first I wondered, but now I’m sure he’s not. He thinks he’s protecting me. Which I’m beginning to believe is even more dangerous.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Serge stood behind the pickup with a map of Florida rolled into a cone like an old-style megaphone. “Swim! Swim! Swim!…”

  Two students in the water. “Serge, our bodies are longer than the pool.”

  “Swim! Damn it!…”

  “I hear yelling,” said Ramirez. “Is everything okay?”

  “No. Listen, you coming to me is out.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Think I can slip away later. Then we’ll meet. It’ll eliminate any unpredictable confrontation with Serge.”

  “Just tell me when and where.”

  “I saw this place yesterday…”

  Serge raised the paper megaphone. “That’s it! Keep swimming! Tonight we’ll shave all your hair and come back to break every Casino record!” He refolded the map and walked around the front of the pickup.

  “Andy, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  “I… What?… This?”

  “Where’d you get the cell phone?”

  “At a convenience store.”

  “You were trying to make a call, weren’t you?”

  “Me? No. I swear.”

  “Gimme that thing.” Serge snatched it away. “Now get back in the pool.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good time.”

  “Why not?”

  Andy stretched out an arm. “Look.”

  Students chanted: “Cole-man!… Cole- man!… Cole- man!…” Coleman stood on top of the pickup’s cab. “Woooooooo!” He licked a finger and stuck it in the air. “… Cole -man!… Cole -man!…”

  “Coleman!” yelled Serge. “No!” Too late.

  Serge and Andy defensively raised arms as they were soaked by the belly-flop splash. They ran around the back of the truck. Coleman lay facedown on a plastic mat.

  Serge stood in horror. “You popped the Casino pool!”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  BAHIA CABANA

  Serge burst in the door.

  “There you are,” said City.

  “When are we going to do something?” asked Country.

  “Not now.”

  “But we’ve been cooped up in here all day.”

  “I offered to take you with us,” said Serge.

  “On one of your lame tours? No, thanks!”

  “I want to go to dinner,” said Country. “You promised.”

  “Someplace nice this time,” said City.

  Serge opened his cell phone. “But you already have plans for tonight.”

  “That’s tonight?”

  “We went over it several times. You agreed in exchange for the dinner I promised…” Serge walked to the far side of the room and dialed a number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Guillermo. It’s me, Serge.”

  “How’d you get this number?”

  “Pedro. He’s a real talker. Just yap, yap, yap.”

  “Got your greeting card.”

  “Like it? Always try to be thoughtful, but you can’t be sure what to get some people.”

  “You’re a dead man.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Remember De Niro and Pacino in Heat?”

  “I saw it.”

  “Didn’t you love that movie? I sure did! One of my favorites, especially the codes they lived by-”

  “Is this going anywhere?”

  “That scene when they took a time-out and met in that coffee shop.”

  “You want to meet?”

  “This is getting out of hand. We should negotiate a truce.”

  “Sure, we can negotiate a truce. When would you like to chat?”

  “I knew you were a reasonable person. How about this evening?”

  “That works.”

  “Great,” said Serge. “Here’s the hotel and room number…”

  A ’68 Dodge Monaco raced south on A1A and screeched into the parking lot of a convenience store.

  The address matched Agent Mahoney’s credit card trace.

  He ran to the front door.

  Bolted.

  “Don’t tell me…”

  Without hesitation, he grabbed a metal trash can, smashed out the door’s bottom glass and crawled through.

  First check: behind the counter. Nothing.

  Then the back room.

  Mahoney’s feet went out from under him as he crashed in a pool of blood.

  He made a quick 911 call and dashed over to the surveillance recorder. A finger pressed eject.

  Empty.

  A camera crew in matching red shirts and low spirits sulked back to their custom motor coach.

  Rood leaned against the side of the bus and kicked sand off a shoe. “This sucks.”

  “All afternoon and no decent women who’d let us film,” said his assistant. “Unless you want to count those four old ladies.”

  “The G-Unit, for God’s sake.” Rood kicked his other shoe against a tire. “Have I been reduced to this?”

  “We should go back to Panama City. Those bitches can’t still be there.”

  “I think you’re right.” He turned to the rest of the crew, unstrapping gear and collapsing tripods. “Everyone, back on the bus.”

  “Hold it,” said the assistant. “What’s this?”

  “What?”

  “Three o’clock. Can’t miss ’em.”

  Rood turned. “Holy mother.”

  Coming toward them: a pair of women hotter than anything they’d netted the whole trip.

  “Excuse me,” said the blonde. “Aren’t you Rood Lear?”

  Rood glanced at his assistant. “Patience.” He sucked in his gut. “Why, yes I am. What can I do for such exquisite creatures?”

  “I can’t believe it’s really you,” said the other. “You’re famous!”

  “Like a star!” said the blonde.

  Rood licked his lips. “Would you like to be in one of my films?”

  “Would we!…”

  “You really mean it?…”

  “That would be a dream come true…”

  “Better not be playing with us…”

  Rood smiled at his assistant. “This can’t get any better.” He held out a hand to shake. “What are your names?”

  “City and Country.”

  Another sideways grin from Rood. “It just got better.”

  The assistant: “Why don’t we all head up to our suite?”

  “Can’t right now,” said City. “Have to be somewhere.”

  “But this evening?” said Country. “Will that mess it up?”

  “We’re booked pre
tty solid,” lied Rood. “But I think we can fit you in.”

  The women huddled and whispered. They smiled and giggled in Rood’s direction, then whispered some more.

  “What are you ladies talking about?” asked Rood.

  “Uh… could we…”-Country lowered her head and feigned bashfulness-“… talk to you in private?”

  Rood smirked at his assistant. “Be right back.”

  “Go get ’em, tiger.”

  He walked a few steps. “What is it?”

  “We’d kind of like to ask a favor,” said City.

  Uh-oh, thought Rood. Here it comes. Money. “What kind of favor?”

  “You’re cute,” said Country. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

  “Me?”

  She blushed and looked down again. “I’ve never… been with a celebrity before.”

  Rood almost choked. “That’s the favor? You want to spend some time?”

  The women smiled at each other.

  This time Rood did choke.

  “Need a glass of water?”

  Rood shook his head. “You mean both of you?”

  They nodded eagerly.

  He gulped and blinked hard. “Think I can clear the suite for a bit.”

  “No.” Country pointed toward one of the resort’s upper floors. “Our room.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s where we have all our… toys.”

  Rood became woozy. “What time are you free?”

  “Say nine?”

  “Nine’s my favorite number.”

  The women waved as they sauntered away. “Don’t be late.”

  Rood walked back to the bus and braced himself with an arm against the door.

  “Jesus,” said the assistant. “You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

  “They want a threesome.”

  “Them? Holy shit.”

  “And just when I started to think life wasn’t fair.”

  THAT EVENING

  Two men sat in an idling Delta 88 with the lights off. Into their second hour with little conversation. Watching the high-rise hotel a block away.

  “Don’t like the looks of this,” said Miguel. “I think it’s a trap.”

  “I know it’s a trap,” said Guillermo.

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “Every trap is an opportunity to set your own trap.”

  “So that’s why you’re wearing a room service uniform?”

  “Nothing gets by you.”

  “Who is this Serge guy anyway?”

  “A nuisance we can no longer afford.” He looked at the car’s analog clock and grabbed his door handle. “It’s time.”

  “He said an hour from now.”

  “That’s why it’s time.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just make sure not to fuck up your end.” He patted his jacket pocket. “Call me on the cell if it looks like I’m made on the way-or if anything else is out of place once I’m inside.” He hopped out.

  Miguel watched as Guillermo waited for traffic to clear before jogging across A1A, still moist and shining in the moonlight from an earlier rain. Miguel picked up binoculars, tracking his colleague. Guillermo avoided the main lobby entrance and circled to the pool deck. Binoculars slowly panned the main entrance. Tourists unsteadily getting out of a cab and laughing. Idiots. The magnified field of vision drifted southward over the parking lot. A family at an open trunk struggled with a stubborn baby stroller that wouldn’t close. Miguel smiled. Farther, a bum on a park bench. Worth watching. Common stakeout disguise. A romantic couple strolled past the bench and suddenly high-stepped as the bum vomited explosively toward their feet. Well, there’s undercover and then there’s what can’t be faked. The binoculars moved on, reaching the street straight out the windshield in front of him. Coast clear. Time to pan back the other way.

  Suddenly, his entire view was filled with a crazy, smiling face. “Ahhhhh!” Miguel jumped back in his seat and dropped the binoculars.

  Serge waved manically, wearing his most tattered comfy T-shirt and sweat pants. He walked around and tapped the side glass.

  Miguel hit an electric level, lowered the window a slit. “Get lost!”

  “I’m not asking for money or to clean your windshield with spit.”

  “I said, get lost!”

  “Just need a light. Mine got all wet when I was caught in the rain.”

  “Are you deaf?”

  “It’s only a stupid light.”

  The window rolled up.

  Serge knocked on the glass. Miguel stared straight ahead. Serge knocked and knocked. His voice was muted through the closed window: “Be a neighbor.”

  “Goddamn it!” Miguel lowered it a slit again. “I’m warning you!”

  “We’re wasting time arguing, when I could already be long gone. Just a light. Come on.”

  “Fuck it.” Miguel reached in a hip pocket for his Zippo, opened the window the rest of the way and held it outside. “Where’s your cigarette?”

  “I don’t smoke.”

  “Then why’d you ask for a light?”

  “To keep your hands busy and away from the gun. You’re the lookout.”

  “Shit!” Miguel went for the piece in his jacket but stopped when he felt a cold barrel on his cheek.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  NINE O’CLOCK

  Rood had been waiting by the bus since eight, wearing his sexiest, tightest slacks and a silk shirt. He checked his watch again.

  9:01.

  Two women trotted across the street.

  “There you are,” said Rood.

  “Worried we were going to be late?”

  “Not for a second.”

  He took one on each arm. “Shall we?”

  The trio strolled up the drive and through the resort’s automatic lobby doors.

  “My gosh,” said Country. “Can’t believe we forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” asked City.

  “You know. The drugstore.”

  “What’s at the drugstore?” asked Rood.

  The women tittered. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Something we can’t do without.” City opened her purse. “Here’s our room key and number. Why don’t you go up and make yourself at home? This’ll just take a few minutes.”

  “You both have to go?”

  Giggles again.

  “I get it,” said Rood. “A chick deal, like restrooms.”

  They took a couple steps back toward the entrance. Country stopped and turned around. “Oh, one more thing. If anyone asks, your name is Serge.”

  “Serge?”

  “That’s my uncle.”

  “Why do I have to say I’m your uncle? For that matter, who’s going to ask? Is someone else staying with you?”

  “No,” said City. “And it’ll probably never come up.”

  “That’s right,” said Country. “Shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Forget about it.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Rood. “I don’t want to get in the middle of a situation. Is this like a jealous boyfriend or something?”

  “Or something.”

  Rood fished the magnetic room key from his pocket. “Maybe I ought to take a rain check.”

  Country went over and wrapped sultry arms around Rood’s neck. “Look, it is my boyfriend. And he is jealous. Very jealous. But he’s also totally harmless. I’m not worried about him doing something crazy; I’m worried about him breaking up with me.”

  “Guy’s a pussycat,” City said from behind. “Once he thought my boyfriend was flirting with Country, and it took us twenty minutes to stop his crying.”

  “He’s got a good heart,” said Country, tightening her arms around Rood’s neck. “But sometimes I need a real man.”

  “I help where I can,” said Rood. “My name’s Sal.”

  “Serge.”

  “Right, Serge. How long you going to be?”

  Automatic doors slid op
en. “Back before you know it.”

  A rabbit argued with a Martian.

  Coleman giggled on the couch and popped a beer. “Serge, come quick! This is the one where Bugs goes to the moon and saves our planet. It’s so realistic.”

  “I’m busy.” He grabbed his cell and started to dial. He stopped and looked at it. “Battery’s dead! Of all times-not now!” He ripped apart his suitcase. “Where’s that damn charger?…”

  “What about the room phone?”

  “Might be traced…” He snatched car keys from the dresser.

  “Where are you going?” asked Coleman.

  “… You have stolen the D-12 modulator…”

  “Find a pay phone.” He ran for the door, unbolting locks. “But where are pay phones these days with all the cells? Now I’ll be late and screw up the Master Plan. I’m so stupid!”

  “Why don’t you just use Andy’s phone?”

  Serge slowly walked back. “Just about to think of that.” He reached the dresser and picked up the disposable phone he’d confiscated at the Casino kiddie pool.

  “… Earth to Bugs, come in…”

  Serge dialed. “Hello, is this the anonymous Crime-Stopper Tip Reward Hotline?… Oh, I’ve got a tip all right! Real doozy! Someone you been looking all over for, possibly committing a crime as we speak. Here’s the address…”

  Bugs clung to the tip of a crescent moon.

  “… Thanks,” said Serge. “And may I say your phone manners have been impeccable, not like those 911 operators who never take me seriously when they’re tearing down a landmark. If that isn’t an emergency, what is?”

  “… Get me out of here!!!!!…”

  Serge plopped on the sofa next to Coleman. “What did I miss?”

  “The whole thing.”

  “Dang, and it was one of my favorites.”

  “Another’s coming on.”

  “Righteous! I love this one!”

  Coleman grabbed another beer. “What about that lookout guy you got in your trunk?”

  “He’ll keep,” said Serge. “Pump up the volume.”

  Rood pressed an elevator button. His mind fluttered through porno reels of his deepest fantasies.

  The appointed floor was empty except for room service trays. Rood whistled down the hall. He stopped in front of a door and checked the number against the magnetic key’s sleeve.