Alan, it seemed, had managed to barely nick my carotid artery with my designer icepick, but because it was a quick in-and-out puncture, the muscle layers constricted, closing off the wound. It was only when we struggled again on the back deck that the puncture wound suddenly opened and put me in serious jeopardy. If Alan had jabbed a little slower, or if medical help had not already been on the way, I’da been residing in an urn next to RJ.
Jenks drove me from the hospital to the boat, helped me settle in and then dropped Mama and Daddy at their hotel at Jack London Square. I was still too tired to give him a ration of shit for his disappearing act. Besides, he was being way too nice to me and, on top of that, he had my parents totally charmed. I’d extract my pound of flesh later, when the parental defense league returned to Texas.
I took a little nap after Jenks left and when I woke up, I could hear someone rattling pots and pans in my galley. Pulling on a robe, I worked my way up the stairs towards the racket. Jenks was frying something that smelled wonderful.
“I hope you don’t think feeding me, treating me so well in the hospital, and buttering up my parents is going to get you off the hook, Jenks Jenkins.”
“Why would I think that? You already told me, in no uncertain terms, how you felt. Back at Alta Bates.”
“I did?”
“You sure did. Let’s see if I can remember....”
“Uh, never mind.” I didn’t remember, that’s for sure, but taking into consideration my frame of mind before Alan attacked me, I could only imagine what I’d laid on Jenks. “It was the drugs talking, I’m sure.”
“Those drugs have some vocabulary, Hetta. I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many ways to call a man a bastard, and I was in the navy for twenty years. The nursing staff started taking notes at one point.” Jenks grinned and turned over the bacon. “How do you want your eggs?”
“Over easy, with a little crow on the side, I guess,” I said meekly.
Jenks nodded and started breaking eggs. “Martinez said he’d stop by later and fill you in on Alan, or whatever his real name is. My money’s on sharks, though.”
“Huh?” I vaguely remembered Martinez standing at my bedside at the hospital, but I couldn’t remember what he’d said. “Sharks?”
“Alan. The guy you tried to kill? Threw off your boat into a stormy sea?”
“I know who Alan is,” I growled, “I don’t remember what Martinez said. Quit treating me like a two-year-old.”
Jenks ignored me and flipped my eggs over, easy. “Toast?”
“Are you gonna tell me, or am I going to have to nail you with that frying pan?”
“Now, that’s more like it. My little Hetta, back at last.”
“Your little Hetta? Listen buster, I haven’t decided yet whether to kiss you or kill you, so don’t push your luck.”
“I’ll settle for the kiss.”
Our eggs got cold.
* * *
Fresh out of a hot shower, I was munching on reheated bacon when Martinez knocked on the hull and came aboard. He handed me a bunch of daisies. “You sure look a lot better, Hetta. I got to admit, though, I sort of liked you comatose.”
“I’ve always liked you comatose, Detective.”
“She’s baaaaack,” Jenks quipped from the galley. “Want some coffee?”
Martinez shook his head. “No coffee, thanks. Trying to quit. So, Annie Oakley, I guess you want to know about your Alan.”
“He is not my Alan. And Jenks tells me you can’t find him, so what’s to know?”
Martinez looked at Jenks, who shrugged.
“You don’t know about the rubies?” Martinez asked.
“What rubies? Oh, let me guess. In the locker at the Key Note Club. Rubies?”
“You got it. Lots of ‘em. Jenks had to turn them over to the Japanese police, but …”
“Jenks? So you were in Tokyo. Why didn’t you call me? Let me know what you were doing? You, you.…”
Martinez intervened. “Uh, Hetta, save it for later. I didn’t come here to referee a love spat.”
“Then why are you here, Detective? Sorry, that sounded really rude and I didn’t mean it to. I get cranky when people try to kill me and others don’t tell me why.”
“No offense taken.”
“Good, then I can continue to be cranky? I mean, you don’t have Alan and you don’t know where he is, so do you think that maniac is still alive? Why am I not getting a warm and fuzzy feeling here?”
“He could possibly still be alive, but he would have no reason to mess with you now. If he is alive, he must know the rubies have been found. It’s in all the papers.” He dug a newspaper clipping out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Extra, extra, read all about it. I’ve always wanted to say that.”
I took the clipping and Jenks handed me my reading glass. For his kindness I gave him a dirty look, then read the article. “Holy shit!”
The Examiner article claimed a cache of rubies recovered in Tokyo by an unidentified Bay Area man had an estimated value in the millions. The bag of flawless Burmese Mogok rubies, not one of them less than six carats, could be valued at up to fifteen thousand dollars a carat because they are becoming so rare.
“So, unidentified Bay Area man, how many stones were in the bottle?” I asked Jenks.
He grinned. “A bunch. The bartender and I counted at least twenty before the Japanese police showed up to take them into custody.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t take you into custody.”
“They did. And didn’t allow phone calls.”
“You’ve been in a Japanese jail?”
“For several days. Nice jail, but the food! Lower sea life forms and noodles. I would have killed for a Big Mac. But, I’ve been in worse brigs.”
“How’d you get out?”
“Commander let me out. They were short on pilots.”
I gave Jenks the look he deserved. “How did you get out of the Japanese jail?”
He nodded at the detective. “Martinez, here. I was finally allowed a call to the American Embassy and they called the OPD for me.”
“Wait a minute! When was that? The last time you were on my boat, Martinez, you didn’t know anything about the key until I told you. Why didn’t you call me when the Japanese called you? You knew I was worried.”
“You were already out cold by the time I could tell you.”
“I was? Then how did Jenks...Aha! You used the security system from Japan? You were in Japan when Alan was on my boat? Oh, boy, am I glad I didn’t know that. I thought you were coming to my rescue.”
“Nope, I was out of jail, waiting for a hop home. Once I realized what was happening on Sea Cock, I talked my way onto a general’s jet headed for Hawaii and from there I got another fast hop. You were in the hospital by the time I finally got here.”
Martinez was nodding and grinning. “Brinkmanship, Coffey, brinkmanship.”
He had a point. Once again I had narrowly skirted the brink.
“Okay, okay, I get your not so subtle message, Martinez.” I said. He only continued giving me that idiotic, lopsided grin, so I waved the newspaper clipping in the air. “Now, you two, let’s talk about something really important. Rubies. I want to hear more about these here rubies.” My mental calculator whirred. “Twenty stones, six carats each, fifteen grand a carat. Almost two million bucks, give or take a hundred thou or two. Wow! No wonder Hudson and Alan were so desperate to get those rocks. And to think, I had the key all the while. Zut, alors! I coulda been a contender.”
Martinez shook his head. “And you could have been dead. Hudson and Alan were lightweights compared to their cohorts. One of the reasons Hudson waited so long to try to find you was that those stones evidently belonged to a bunch of very nasty Southeast Asian hoods he ripped off. He couldn’t show his face anywhere in the Pacific Rim without losing it. I figure he hooked up with Alan, thinking if he could get the key maybe Alan could retrieve the stones, but Alan had other plans. No honor amongst th
ieves and all that. Not too swift, your Hudson.”
I let the your slide. “No shit.”
“Interpol wasn’t the only one looking for Hudson. My guess is Alan sold Hudson out to the bad guys, waited for him to get the key, then offed him. Problem was, Hudson didn’t have the key. You did. In Texas.”
Jenks nodded. “And when Alan realized he’d messed up, he followed you to your new boat, joined the yacht club, and now his face is plastered over every newspaper in the world. Jewels, dope, and the like make for great copy.”
“So, who owns the rubies?” I was trying to stick to the important stuff.
Martinez shrugged. “Eventually, I guess the Burmese or whatever they call their country these days.”
“Myanmar,” Jenks said, impressing me.
“Yeah, that’s it. Anyhow, they claim the stones belong to them, part of some heist or something. It’ll be in litigation for years.”
“Well, rats. Hudson owed me a ruby, among other things. Too bad I didn’t get a chance to shoot him before Alan whacked him. Oh, dear, granny’s gun!”
“Got it. Sent down a diver after hearing you rave in the hospital.”
“I am woman, it’s my job. Thanks.”
“No problem. Besides, we needed to check that shotgun to see how many times it was fired. What with a missing perp, he could have gone to the bottom with a load of shot in his ass, you know.”
“They think I killed Alan?”
“Not with that gun, they don’t. They’re still counting bullet holes in the dinghy, and spent cartridges from .38. Anyway, when the San Francisco Sheriff gets through with the guns, they are all yours. Glad to see you in such good shape. Keep in touch.” Martinez rose to leave, but I grabbed his hand.
“Uh, Martinez.”
“You can call me Marty.”
“Marty Martinez? I like it. Anyhow, Marty, how about coming over for drinks and dinner next week? Bring the wife.”
Marty smiled. I mean he really smiled. “I’d like that and I know my wife would love to meet you. You’ve kept her entertained for months now.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Martinez left and I glared at Jenks, the holdout. If he was going to hang around me he’d have to be trained in the fine art of information trading. He was grinning from ear to ear.
“What?” I demanded.
“Oh, just wondering if you’re still mad at me.”
“Sort of. Actually, not really. However, don’t ever run off like that again without letting me know where you are. And never, ever, withhold gossip. It’s un-American, you know. Okay?
“I promise,” Jenks said, “if you promise to stay out of trouble.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Why should I?”
“Maybe a reward? All good girls deserve a reward.”
“What kind of reward? I can be a very, very good girl,” I cooed, giving him an eye bat and pulling him toward me by his belt loops.
“Stick your hand in my pocket.”
“Is this gonna be a Groucho Marx kinda moment?”
“Lower.”
“How about if I take them off you?”
“How about if you reach way down into that pocket?” Jenks said gruffly.
So I did.
There was something hard in there.
And very big.
“Now, pull it out, Hetta.”
So I did.
The biggest damned ruby I ever saw.
Holy shades of Romancing the Stone! Joan Wilder, eat your heart out.
Epilogue
We said a final farewell to RJ on one of those rare, but magical, Indian summer days that bless San Francisco Bay in the fall.
Brilliant sunlight and ninety degree temperatures favored the anchorage at Clipper Cove, just as I’d hoped when I scheduled the end of September event. There was no fog, but the tinge of coolness on a light breeze promised Mother Nature’s air conditioning would, to paraphrase Carl Sandberg, dogtrot in on little puppy feet later in the afternoon.
Seagulls circled the boat quizzically, hoping for a handout, but Eco, not one to duck his own importance, kept them at bay. In addition to the bits of canapé he cadged from the guests, I’d brought him popcorn and Ritz crackers to keep him at the back of the boat, away from RJ’s ashes when they were scattered. Can’t have your duck dining on the deceased n'est-ce pas?
With me to bid adieu to my fine hound were Jenks, Dr. Craig, Raoul and his dog, Catamite, Allison Wontrobski and her new hubby, the Trob, Detective and Mrs. Martinez, the Fujitsus, and Pancho-san. At the last minute Jan and Lars showed up at the dock with a surprise: my mother and father.
Mama was helping me arrange the canapés on a platter when the boat wallowed slightly on a swell. She sat down quickly on the settee. “What was that?”
“Oh, probably a whale wake.”
“Very funny. I don’t know how you can live on something that moves all the time. Where does Jenks live?” she asked, a tad too casually.
“When he’s not in prison, he rents a cold water flat in the ghetto.”
Mother looked aghast until Jan snorted a laugh and said, “Mama Coffey, Hetta’s giving you a hard time. Jenks is a perfectly respectable guy with a nice apartment, a job and on top of that, he’s really nice. Obviously much too good for Hetta.”
“You two should make yourselves useful and mind your own bidness. As it so happens, Jenks and I have a great relationship.” Merde, I used the “R” word. I hate being on the defensive. It makes me so...defensive.
“That’s good, honey. He does seem to like you. And your father likes him.”
“Mama, get those wedding bells out of your head. Jenks and I both like being single, but we also like being single together.”
“I’ll settle for that,” Mother said with a sly grin. “For now.”
“What’ll you settle for?” Jenks said, entering the galley area.
“You, Jenks. Mother thinks you’re wonderful and Jan thinks you’re too good for me. What do you think?”
Jenks looked at the three of us and backed towards the door. “I think I’ll have a drink.”
“Wise choice.” I gave my tormentors a smug look and spooned capers onto smoked salmon.
Mama had to have the last word. “I hope your Jenks isn’t easily run off, if you know what I mean. I won’t waste my breath trying to tell you not to scare him away.”
Why does everyone in the whole world keep referring to my male acquaintances as your men? Your Hudson, your Alan, and now, your Jenks. Well, the your Jenks thing sounded just fine and dandy with me. “Uh-huh,” I said, noncommittally. “Mama, could you pass around the deviled eggs?”
“Of course, dear. Did you make these yourself? They look very...interesting. What are these little spots?”
“Caviar.”
“Oh. I’ll warn your father.”
She wandered off with the tray. Actually she didn’t wander at all, but made a beeline for Jenks at the bar, where he was dispensing fountains of champagne.
I busied myself arranging more trays of goodies and when I checked, Jenks and mother were on the sofa in deep conversation. Dad had been relegated to bartender.
“Looks like we could use your mom on the OPD,” Martinez said as he plucked a tiny bagel laden with lox and cream cheese from a tray. “She’s giving your Jenks quite a grilling.”
“Yeah. Think I should rescue him?”
“Nah, he’s doin’ okay. How about you? All healed up?”
“Sure am. Any word at all on Alan, or whatever he calls himself these days?”
“Nothing. A rumor. Street talk.” He grabbed a stuffed shrimp and gazed out over the bay.
“Are you gonna tell me or shall I stuff that shrimp in a new and indelicate place,” I groused.
“Now I know you’re back to yourself,” he grinned. “Scuttlebutt has it the boys who once owned those rubies found him and took him on a one-way fishing trip where he was featured as bait.”
“Fooey, I thought I turned him
into bait. Oh, well, can’t win ‘em all.”
“No, you can’t. Too bad about those rubies, though. I was hoping maybe Jenks would get some kind of reward. Not even a thank you, the cheap bastards. And speaking of rubies, Hetta, that’s quite a rock you’re sporting ‘round your neck.”
Just Add Water (Hetta Coffey Mystery Series (Book 1)) Page 31
