Storm Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 4th Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers)

by Charles Dougherty

"I'm in good shape. Sleep well."

  17

  Dalton knew Gina wasn't asleep. He thought about climbing up into her berth, surprising her. He'd gotten worked up thinking about what he was going to do to that Mexican bitch when the time came. That kept him from bothering Gina right now, though. He wanted her on his side. He needed her to keep sweet-talking Connie and Paul; he couldn't afford to mess up any more than he already had.

  Paul and Connie felt sorry for Gina. Most folks did, and she knew how to work that angle. Always had, even when she'd been a little kid. She'd thought she was pullin' his strings all this time, but he knew what she was up to. He'd been gonna do most of that stuff anyway, the stuff she thought she'd put him up to over the years. He grinned.

  Let her think she was the one with the plans. Didn't hurt nothin'. Give her the courage of her convictions, like that sayin' went. She'd play Connie like a damn fiddle. Paul, too. She done already had Connie practically eatin' out of her hand. Good thing he'd decided not to ditch Gina after he'd got out. He'd been close to it.

  What a pair, these here people that picked 'em up. It was near 'bout enough to make a man believe God was lookin' out for him. 'Cept he knew that if anybody was lookin' out for him, it weren't likely to be God. He chuckled. More like the Devil. He done had the tattoo, the mark of the beast. Double meanin' for him. The Aryan Brotherhood thought it was ‘cause he was tryin' to look tough, like one of them, but he'd gotten it way before he'd done time.

  His mind drifted back to Connie and Paul. What a fucked-up match. A pansy cop and a Mexican whore. He shook his head. Didn't neither one of them like him. They wouldn't tell him shit. Fuckin' cop looked at him like he was somethin' stuck to the bottom of his shoe. And that bitch didn't show him no respect, none at all. Shit, she had no idea how close she'd come to gettin' it earlier. No idea. She hadn't even acted scared, let alone respectful. She'd learn, though. They all did, once he started in on 'em. He'd have fun makin' 'em give him their money. They was rich, prob’ly runnin’ drugs. That lockbox was prob’ly full of money, and he was gonna get some of it. Hell, no! He was gonna get all of it.

  He'd learned about drug money before he'd got hisself sent away for good. The Aryan Brotherhood had been big in the meth business, and he had been a minor dealer. Then he'd got busted the second time, but not for drugs, like he'd told Paul and Connie.

  Once his ass was locked up in Lewisburg, it hadn't taken long for the AB to reach out to him. He'd been expecting it. This wasn't his first time around the block, after all. He'd done hooked up with them when he done his first hitch, the one that really had been for possession with intent. Dalton had been recruited within days back then, a known quantity, and someone who'd be back out on the street soon enough to do the Brotherhood some good. They'd kept him in dope and taught him all kinds of shit. He'd stayed clean and got out right on schedule.

  Three years of good time served, and he was checkin' in regular with his P.O. Then the damn DNA match had come through, and they'd hung them killin's on his ass. Sent him right back inside, for good. His brothers had welcomed him back; gave him a lot of respect for what he'd done. He hadn't been surprised. He knew they put a lot of value on lifers who didn't mind killin' when it was called for. They was no doubt figgerin' he'd make a good inside hit man. He'd played right along with 'em, but he had his own plans. He'd faked that seizure and they'd taken him to the hospital, just like he'd planned. Now ever'thing was goin' his way. Reckon the Devil looked out for his own.

  Connie heard Gina stirring below before the girl's face appeared, framed in the companionway.

  "Hey, Connie. Okay if'n I join you?"

  "Sure, come on up."

  "Want me to make us some instant coffee first?"

  "Paul fixed me a thermos before he went to sleep. Just grab a mug for yourself and come on up. I'll pour you a cup. You need food?"

  "No, thanks, I'm good," Gina said, sitting on the starboard cockpit seat about arm's distance from Connie. "Dalton and me had some sandwiches a little while ago."

  Connie braced her knee against the helm, freeing both hands, and leaned over to fill Gina's mug. "How's he?"

  "Okay, I reckon. Comes and goes. He's still sleepin' a lot."

  "That reminds me," Connie said. "He volunteered that the two of you could stand watches."

  "Yes'm, he told me he was a goin' to." Gina looked at Connie, waiting.

  "Paul and I talked it over, and we'd rather stick to our usual watch schedule. It's not that we don't appreciate your offer, but we've got our own rhythm, you know? It works really well for us. We don't think trying to get used to a new schedule for a few days would help. We think you and Dalton should take it easy; you've been through a lot in the last few days, and you're going to have some tough times ahead when we get to the Virgins. Relax and get some rest."

  Gina chewed on her lower lip for a second or two. "Okay, reckon I understand, if that's what y'all think's best." She pushed at a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear, catching it when it fell over her forehead again. She shook it back out of her face, and then repeated the gesture. "Um, I hate to be any trouble, Connie, but my hair's drivin' me crazy. Any chance you could borry me some hairpins or somethin'?"

  "Of course," Connie said, relieved that Gina didn't seem upset by the rejection of their offer. "I'm sorry, Gina. I didn't even think of it. If you go into the forward stateroom and look in the head, you'll see a couple of drawers on the right. The top one's mine; there's a new pack of hairpins in there. Just help yourself. Use any of the toiletries that you need, too. There's shampoo and body wash. You should find towels in the amidships head, right across from the cabin we put you in. There should be disposable toothbrushes in there in the drawer, combs, too. We keep a stash of that kind of stuff for guests who forget their own. If you'd like to shower, you'd better use that one, the amidships head, instead of Paul's and mine. We use the forward stateroom and head when we have guests aboard, but the ride up there's pretty sloppy at sea. That's why we put you two amidships when we picked you up."

  "Oh, boy! Thanks. I'd really like to wash the salt outta my hair. It's itchin' somethin' fierce, my scalp is. If it's okay, I'll just go get me some hairpins right now and wait 'til daytime to wash my hair, though. Then it'll be warmer, and I can dry it in the sun."

  "Suit yourself."

  "I'll be right back," Gina said, wedging her half-finished coffee in a corner and working her way to the companionway.

  True to her words, she reappeared a minute later, her hair pinned back out of her face. Resuming her seat, she took a sip of coffee. "I see what you mean, 'bout the ride up there. Sure is a pretty room, though."

  "Thanks. That's home to me and Paul. The rest of the boat's open to guests when we're working, but that's our private getaway."

  "I'd of figgered you'd put the guests up there."

  "Well, the aft stateroom's bigger, so we use it for company. When we're by ourselves, we use it instead of the forward one. It's more comfortable at sea, because the motion's easier back here. When we've got a charter, we're usually in more protected water, so the ride up front doesn't matter as much. Plus, there's more privacy up in the forward stateroom, and the ventilation's a little better at anchor."

  "I see. I reckon the aft stateroom could be kinda noisy, right under foot and ever'thing."

  "Yes. If Paul and I sense that our guests want to be left alone, we'll go up forward and close ourselves off. That gives the guests the run of the place, sort of. Makes it seem bigger and more luxurious."

  "That what most people want? For y'all to stay out of sight?"

  "Not really. Most of the people want us to be part of the crowd, but we wait until they invite us, kind of play it by ear."

  "Uh-huh. Y'all are both so nice, I'd reckon most folks are glad to have you around."

  "Thanks, Gina. That's kind of you."

  Gina smiled and nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. "Not to be nosy or nothin', but I was a-wonderin' ... "

  "About wh
at?" Connie asked, pouring more coffee into their mugs.

  "How much do you charge people to come stay on Diamantista II? If it's none of my business, just — "

  "Don't be silly, Gina. It's a business, like a hotel. Our prices are published on the Internet, on our website. Our rates start at about $12,000 per week for a couple and go up from there depending on where the charter will be, and what kind of extras they might want."

  "Wow! That's a lot of money. I didn't have no idea. Y'all must be doin' all right, if'n you don't mind me sayin' so."

  Connie smiled. "I know it sounds like a lot, but there's a lot of expense involved in keeping up a boat like this. Guests expect everything to be just so, you know. We spend a lot of money on things like varnish maintenance and polishing the brass and stainless. All this teak takes constant attention, and the decks have to be caulked and re-bunged on a more or less constant basis."

  "I didn't think about all that. I just kinda figgered you and Paul would do that stuff, like between visitors, I reckon."

  "There's not enough time. All the business seems to happen at once; it's seasonal, so we're in a huge rush between guests. And unfortunately, guests are often careless about things you wouldn't think of. Smearing suntan lotion on the teak deck happens all the time, and it has to be bleached out and sanded. Then, after that happens several times, you need to replace the decking in those spots. It always seems to be in the same places, too. Bleaching and sanding's hard on the deck, and you wouldn't believe what it costs to have a few square feet replaced."

  "Reckon there's more to this than I figgered. Now that don't sound like so much money for what you have to do, but still ... it's an awful lot of money for people to spend, just for a week on the boat. I'm not sayin' it right, I guess, but — "

  "Oh, I know what you mean," Connie interrupted. "When I was your age, that was more money than I thought there was in the world. I couldn't have imagined spending money like that. Still can't, for that matter. But there're a lot of people who do. This is a decent little business. We make a good living, but mostly, we have a lot of fun. It's no way to get rich, that's for sure."

  "Reckon not. Dalton's pretty handy at fixin' stuff, and I can scrub with the best of 'em. We was hopin' we'd be able to find some kinda work around boats in the Virgin Islands. 'Course, we thought we'd be livin' on our own boat, kinda in the middle of it all. Now, who knows?"

  "I'm sure you'll find something. There's always work to be done around boats. You might even be able to boat-sit for people who want to go back to the states for a few weeks."

  "Boat-sit? What's that?"

  "You'd stay on their boat, take care of it while they're gone. Maybe do some work on it, like varnishing or painting. That kind of thing."

  Gina's face brightened. "Really? You think we might could do that?"

  "Plenty of people do. I don't see why you couldn't. It would take you a little while to build a reputation. You might have to be unpaid caretakers for a while until you got some references, but even that would give you a place to stay."

  "That'd be wonderful. We done lost ever'thing we had, just about, when we lost the boat. I got a little money saved up, once I can get me another one of them ATM cards. Reckon I can call the bank, or somethin'. I mean we ain't gonna starve, not right off, ennyhow, but havin' a place to stay, that'd help a lot."

  The girl was quiet for several minutes, head down, chin on her chest. Connie thought at first that she was lost in thought, but then she saw the steady rise and fall of Gina's chest. She put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. Gina looked up, embarrassed. "I — "

  "It's okay, Gina. Go on down and sleep while you can."

  "Thanks, Connie," the girl said, looking sheepish. She got up and went below.

  Connie poured herself another mug of coffee and leaned back, looking at the countless stars of the Milky Way and giving silent thanks for her good fortune.

  "So? Did you get it open?" Gina asked. She had gone back to their cabin to find Dalton stretched out on his berth, hands behind his head.

  "Oh, yeah!" He sat up and swung his legs around, sitting on the edge of the bunk.

  Reaching around behind himself, he put a hand under his pillow and drew out a small bag made of heavy silk. He held it out to Gina, grinning. "We done got lucky, I reckon," he said.

  Gina took the bag and untied the drawstring. She tipped the contents out into her left hand, her eyes going round as she saw the earrings. There were two pairs, two different designs. One pair had simple posts that each held a single, round-cut diamond about the size of a fingertip. The other pair had pear-shaped stones of a similar size that hung from a post with a small diamond at the point where the pendant was connected to the post.

  "Reckon what them are worth?" Dalton asked.

  Gina shrugged, studying the earrings. "I don't know, Dalton. We'd have to find us a fence, see what we could get."

  "Ain't you gonna try 'em on?"

  "Uh-uh." She dropped the earrings back into the bag and tied it closed. "All's we need is for one of them to come in here for some reason and find me wearin' her earrings." She handed him the bag. "Keep 'em hidden."

  She watched as he lifted a corner of the mattress close to the side of the hull and stuck the bag underneath. "Anything in that lock-box that might give them a reason to open it before we get to shore?"

  "Nah, just some papers and shit."

  "What kind of papers?"

  He shrugged. "They was in envelopes; I didn't look 'cause I was in a hurry. You got any idea how big them diamonds is? How many carats?"

  She remembered the ring her pimp had worn, the one he'd used when he'd marked up Belinda's face. It had been a couple of carats, and the stones in the earrings were bigger. "Maybe two or three carats. Why?"

  "All together?"

  "No. Each one of the big ones is prob'ly 'tween two and three carats, I reckon. Why? Whadda you know 'bout diamonds, ennyhow?"

  "I knowed a feller inside what was a jewel thief. He told me some about diamonds."

  "Yeah? Like what?"

  "Like how much they was worth, but you gotta know how many carats you got in each one."

  "I just told you. Maybe two to three carats each. So how much is that?"

  "I don't know how to do the figgerin', Gina. He told me maybe five to ten thousand for a one-carat diamond. Maybe more, dependin'."

  "Dependin' on what?"

  "Well, each carat's worth more for a big diamond than for a small one, but there's other stuff you gotta figger in. The way they's shaped is one thing, and what color they is, that's another. Then there's somethin' like how clear they is, and whether they got stuff inside 'em, like little glitches."

  "Well, I don't know 'bout the particulars, but I reckon we done struck it rich, Dalton."

  "You think?"

  "Yeah, babe. I reckon from what you said that we're settin’ on somewhere between 50 and 150 thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds."

  "You shittin' me, Gina?"

  "No way, babe. Not if what your friend said is right."

  "Damn," Dalton said. "Reckon that might sorta change things."

  "Yeah," Gina said. "Sorta. Next time I go up there an’ distract 'em, you get me those papers, okay?"

  "From the box?"

  "Yeah, babe, from the box."

  He grinned and reached under his pillow, extracting a manila folder.

  18

  "What do you think of trying to help these two, Paul? Wait. Before you answer, I know how you feel about Dalton, and I agree. But Gina's really getting to me; she's so ... I don't know how to express it, exactly."

  Paul sipped at his coffee. It was about 3:30 a.m. He'd come up a little early to relieve Connie, explaining that he'd not been sleeping well and thought maybe she could use a break. "Did she come up for another visit?"

  "Yes. Poor thing. She seems so lonely, so glad to have somebody to listen to her."

  Paul shrugged. "Did she ask you for anything?"

 
"Hairpins. She couldn't keep her hair out of her eyes, and that made me realize that they're both still in the clothes they were wearing when we picked them up. I suggested that she help herself to some hairpins and whatever toiletries she needed from my drawer in the forward head, and take a shower. I told her they should use the midship head, because of the sea state."

  "Hairpins? That's all?" He frowned.

  "Yes."

  "And did she?"

  "She got some hairpins and pinned her hair out of her face. Then she came back up. She said she'd love to wash the salt out of her hair, but that she'd wait until daytime, so she could dry it in the sun."

  "Makes sense. But I really wanted to know whether she asked for more significant help — money, like that."

  "Oh. No, she didn't. She said she had some money she'd saved. If she can get a replacement ATM card in the Virgins, she thinks they could manage for a little while. They'd been planning to work, but they'd also figured on living on their boat, so she's pretty worried."

  "That's understandable. What did you tell her?"

  "I suggested that they look for a chance to boat-sit, most likely for free, since they won't have any references. She seemed pretty enthusiastic about that."

  "Let me guess," Paul said. "You were thinking about giving them a little money, until she could get access to her own, and maybe helping them find a boat-sitting job. Am I right?"

  "Yes, something like that, I guess." Connie read his reluctance, and after listening to herself, she shared it. "I didn't offer anything; I wouldn't, without talking to you about it. I'm not even sure it's a good idea, now that I've thought about it. Where do you come out?"

  "Same place, I guess. I don't trust either one of them much. Especially him, but something about her's a bit off, too. I know she comes across as sweet and innocent, but there's just something ... "

  "I guess we shouldn't do anything, then," Connie said. "It's just that when she's sitting there, baring her soul, she's seems so helpless."