by Jean James
The water grew choppy on the trip over, rough enough to make one of the passengers slightly seasick. With hopes that the inclement weather conditions would excuse her from Johnny’s motor tour, she called him aside.
“I should stay with the boat, Johnny, and keep an eye on it in case it gets stormier. I’ve never seen these properties you’ll be showing, so my presence won’t help much.”
“I want pictures. Your boat will weather this fine. I checked before we left and the bad weather won’t come in until this evening.”
Having no choice, she followed along. When they finally finished, the weather had worsened considerably, and Johnny agreed that he should take his people back to Naples by car while she took the boat back alone.
Katherine headed towards the dock and saw that the water had grown considerably rougher, though the slate colored sky and the brisk wind blowing the palms made a magnificent picture. She wished she could wait until the weather cleared somewhat, but by then, it would be dark and conditions might grow worse. She wasn’t ready for either of those possibilities.
Just as she reached the Miss Iris, the rain poured down in torrents. Katherine rushed to loosen the lines and noticed someone had tied them to different posts—actually one post further down. Nothing else seemed irregular, and she paid it no more mind until she headed out and noticed that the gas gauge read lower than it should. She had checked it regularly since the last discrepancy and had ascertained its accuracy, but she had no time to think about it right then. The weather had asserted its power and required her full attention.
The wind had picked up and the rain sheeted across the water. She would have to take the Intracoastal back to Naples since the Gulf would be too rough for safety. She saw no boats on the water anywhere, except a distant motorboat apparently at anchor. The sky darkened even more and the rain grew heavier. She couldn’t understand that small open boat out there in the midst of the storm, but she felt better because of it. If that little boat could weather the storm, certainly the Miss Iris could. She increased her speed and headed towards home. When she saw that her boat could handle the conditions with no trouble, she ran the Miss Iris almost wide open.
Behind her, the motorboat decided to come in too, but it was still a good distance away.
About halfway home, the rain slackened somewhat, but the wind continued to be brisk. She looked astern again and could see the motorboat much clearer now. Something was familiar about it. She focused on it through the mini-binoculars she kept at the helm.
“Lee! Following me again.”
Taking a closer look, she confirmed that it was the same boat that had sped past in the gulf the other day—Lee’s.
“What do you think you’ll learn, Mr. Thorpe?” she hollered into the wind, aware he could never hear her from that distance.
When she slowed the Miss Iris, he promptly slackened his speed to match. She studied him through the glasses again and increased the magnification so she could see his face clearly. His dark hair blew straight out from his head and reminded her of something, someone. An unpleasant feeling swept over her.
Katherine turned her attention back to the course and tried to place the haunting memory. Long ago, she had put away the thought that she had once seen him. She had studied his face so many times in the last few weeks that she no longer could imagine any former meeting. Now she knew why she hadn’t been able to place him. She had tried to visualize him somewhere in Naples, when it had been Chicago.
She had first seen him on that terrible day at the bank. Through the binoculars, she no longer saw the Lee Thorpe she thought she knew. She saw the man in the gray suit and the blowing hair who had asked about Mr. Pinkston—the man with the real suntan and the polite ma’am and the mocking eyes. Why had Lee been there?
He maintained the same distance all the way. When she approached the marina, he sped past and quickly disappeared.
She wanted him to show up. She wanted to have it out with him, that infuriating sneak.
A couple of hours in her cabin, mulling over the situation, left her too unsettled to sleep. The rain had ceased and the wind had died down. She wanted to see how the Gulf responded to a storm. She slid into some warmer slacks and tennis shoes, and started out for the pier.
When she pulled out of the marina lot, she saw the green Jeep hidden in the shadows to the side. She wondered how many times he had waited in that same spot and she had never seen him. With freshened anger, she took a zigzag course to the pier, sometimes turning off her lights for an entire block.
Try and follow me now. How dumb do you think I am? Your Jeep sticks out like a sore thumb—and Johnny’s car, too. Do you think you’re clever? She wanted to shout in Lee’s face. She wanted to yell at Johnny and his repulsive father, too. Her patience had vanished.
The pier did its work. An hour of ocean gazing restored her calmness. Although still scared and confused, she could go back to the boat and sleep. She turned off the headlights as she neared the marina and crept slowly towards the place where she last saw Lee. Her heart jumped at sight of the Jeep. She hadn’t expected to find it still parked there.
What nerve. Must I be hounded the rest of my life by these criminals?
Lee had failed her—failed to live up to her hopes and expectations. Fury and disappointment filled her. She bore down on the gas pedal and shot through the distance that separated them. Her loud horn blast and sudden headlights preceded her stomp on the brake pedal. Her car screeched to a stop inches from his Jeep.
He jumped in his seat.
She waited for him to drive away and hoped he had learned that two could play this childish game of espionage.
Lee suddenly stepped from his Jeep, a look on his face such as she had never seen.
She became suddenly, gutlessly afraid. She slammed into reverse at the same instant that he leaned through her window and reached for her keys. She beat him away while she protectively gripped the keys and mashed the gas pedal at the same time.
He ruthlessly grabbed her hand and wrenched it away from the ignition, even as her car dragged him along. When the motor died, he still crushed her hand that held the keys.
“I’m a real fool, a real amateur next to you.” His voice sounded like a hiss. “I should have believed my first hunch. You know all about this outfit, don’t you? You’re the innocent babe playing your smooth innocent little game.” He looked down at her and laughed harshly. “I shouldn’t give you this much, but for what it’s worth…” he leaned close to her ear and gave her a meaningful look, “take my advice and disappear because I won’t stop for sentiment.” He still crushed her hand and the keys cut into her flesh. Finally he released her and walked wearily back to his Jeep without a backward look. Within seconds, he was gone.
She turned out the still glaring headlights and sat there in the dark, rubbing feeling into numb fingers. She sat there for a long time, waiting for the shaking to pass.
The masquerade had ended. He had said it right out—You know all about this. She remembered that she had answered nothing, but what could she have answered—that she didn’t know anything? Sure, she didn’t know anything, except that they were all crooked, and they killed those who got in their way.
How had she foolishly trusted him, had actually fallen for him? She must have been insane. He had only been attentive to gain information, to fulfill the requirements of his loathsome job.
Where was the cleverness she thought she possessed—that he insinuated she possessed? She had actually believed he had genuine feelings for her. Maybe he had cared a little. He had warned her to run. Why had he? Did he mean he would kill her, or would he let Johnny do it? His last words still rang in her ears—I won’t stop for sentiment.
In sudden panic, she wondered if he had gone to tell Buzzy. Was that what he had meant? She needed to know. With headlights off, she drove towards Buzzy’s big house that she had seen only once before. She parked behind a church, four blocks away, and walked until she came in sight of his dr
ive. No Jeep was parked there, only Buzzy’s and Johnny’s cars.
She stealthily crossed to the tall hedge that surrounded his yard and squeezed into its foliage to wait for Lee’s arrival. They wouldn’t risk a phone conversation about such a matter.
During the tense wait, she couldn’t stop her mind’s workings. What should she do? She had put off that question far too long. It wouldn’t help to go back to Chicago because that seemed to be their headquarters. New York sounded good—to be near her mother—but she couldn’t put her mother in danger. I’ll never be safe again, no matter where I go. She deliberated there in the dark, lonely silence.
If she only knew some solid information, she could get police help. Just a name, or place or some useful piece of information—that was all she needed to put it in the hands of the authorities. She must investigate on her own. Since she was already deep in danger, what was the risk? She shouldn’t have been so complacent, playing with the boat and playing at love, when she knew that crimes had happened and would continue to happen. She should have worked diligently to purge this vileness before there were more victims—before she became a victim.
She bowed her head to ask for help from the only Friend she trusted right then. Forgive my smugness, Lord. I know I should have been seriously working, all along, to solve this mystery. If someone else has died while I hesitated, I know I share the blame. If You’ll help me now, I’ll do what I can to uncover this evil.
She crept slowly around the house, half-hidden in the dripping shrubbery, and breathed a prayer of thanks that they owned no dogs. The screened in patio on the back of the house was unlit. She started to approach it for a clearer view into the house when drifting cigar smoke made her aware of a dark figure reclining on a lounge chair.
Buzzy! The smoke drifted harshly on the freshly washed night air.
Her mind went back to the ashes she had found on the Miss Iris—sweet smelling, not pungent like Buzzy’s cigar smelled. She wondered how those ashes tied in with all the other happenings.
Katherine scooted further back under the foliage and settled down on the wet sand under the hedge. Minutes passed slowly.
The glow from his cigar faded and grew brighter by turn as he savored it. Nothing had happened by the time he finally rose from his chair some forty-five minutes later. He ambled into his house and locked the glass doors.
She struggled to rise from her uncomfortable position and rubbed feeling back into her stiff legs. Cautiously, she slipped up to the enclosure and could see the main room beyond. Though it looked dark and unoccupied, a light glowed from the right side of the house, maybe from a bedroom.
Close against the damp stucco, she followed around the house to a dimly lit window. On tiptoe she could just see through the crack where the two curtains met. Johnny sat on a couch and watched a television show. He wasn’t dressed for going out, nor did he look as if he had just received any revealing message. When she traveled further along the wall to the only other lighted window, she made out Buzzy’s bulky frame as he prepared for bed. That settled that.
The night’s chill and dampness had penetrated her depths. She ran the entire distance back to her car. Breathless and not much warmer, she started the motor and turned on the heater to dry some of the moisture from her clothes. The car’s clock said it was after eleven. That left plenty of time for a search of Buzzy’s real estate office. Maybe she could find evidence there—of what nature she didn’t know, but she had to try something.
With no close-by places to hide a car, she parked at a distance and started on the long walk. On her way, she checked the other places where she had seen Lee’s Jeep hidden. When she had ascertained her privacy, she entered through the back door of the office.
Alone in the silent room, she watched the reflection of outside neons as they traveled across the rows of associates’ desks. As the red and blue lights flashed off and on, the room rippled with moving shadows. Their brightness would never facilitate the study of papers, and she had brought no flashlight. Investigations that night would have to take place in the three rooms that sported doors. Buzzy’s office seemed the obvious place to start.
With closed door and light on, she methodically sorted through each of his desk drawers but found nothing incriminating. A gun lay in the bottom right hand drawer—a vicious reminder of her risk, but unhelpful as evidence. Many business people kept guns for protection. Buzzy would own a permit for it, of course. She closed the drawer and started work on his address book.
Most of the numbers meant nothing to her, but she copied all the Chicago listings. She found her old Chicago real estate office number and Lloyd’s home phone number, but she already knew that he and Buzzy were well acquainted—maybe too well acquainted, she considered. The rest of the Chicago listings looked unfamiliar.
She wearily examined a smaller desk and a couple of file cabinets on the other side of his room. The tedious work gobbled up time. When she finally came to the papers lying on his main desk, her ebbing energy told her they would have to wait.
Her body cried out for rest, for the soft bed on the boat and a few hours to forget everything, but the time for such options had run out. This problem wouldn’t go away with a good night’s sleep. At this point, she faced only two possible outcomes—she could expose them, or they could kill her.
The thought sobered her, and she pushed herself to make one last search—the file room. She remembered that Buzzy had sent Johnny to the cabin with something they needed to hide. That something would serve as evidence if the right hands got possession of it. Katherine needed to find that cabin. It could be one of the properties he owned, some piece of acreage with a shack on it, or something of that nature.
She leafed through an unlocked file cabinet, but realized it would take too long to search all the files. If Buzzy had filed information on such a property, she would more likely find it in one of the locked cabinets. Remembering a string of keys in Buzzy’s office, she dashed back for those. When none of them fit it, she realized continued investigations would have to wait. Dawn approached, and she must leave right away and find a safe place to rest. With no hint of when Lee might act, or what he might do, she had no choice but to come back again that night as early as possible.
With her boat no longer a safe refuge, she needed to find a place to hide and rest. Iris would surely take her in, but she didn’t want to involve the woman in something this dangerous. No place in Naples seemed safe. At four-thirty in the morning, she pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center in Fort Myers and opted for the front seat of her car again, too sleepy to care.
13
Fifteen minutes later, giant, predatory, beasts-on-wheels made deafening passes around the parking lot, charged scraps of paper, and swallowed aluminum cans and bottles as they sped back and forth. It seemed an eternity waiting for them to move on to another area. When the noise finally became more distant, and she started to doze off, the sound of a metal dustpan scraping against the pavement somewhere close by disturbed her rest again. Someone swept around the few cars parked there—on the search for any prey the pavement cleaning machines had missed. Not wanting anyone to see her sleeping in her car, she sat upright and waited for them to finish.
Katherine had just settled back on her inadequate bed when two cars pulled up on her right. Their drivers immediately started a noisy, raucous conversation. They laughed and carried on louder than anyone had a right to converse at that time of the morning. This time, she didn’t bother to rise. The sky grew light. She had to sleep if she meant to investigate again that night. While she gazed up at her car’s headliner, she mentally demanded they shut up and leave her in peace.
Sometime later, she awoke wet with sweat and painfully stiff from her inadequate bed. Her head swam, and she opened her windows to replace the heat with fresh air. Though only mid-morning, the sun had brutally assaulted her closed car.
At a small restaurant, Katherine washed her face and drank coffee until she started to feel human a
gain. Finally, she headed back to Naples with the realization she must monitor Lee closely, now. It wouldn’t do to keep him from finding her. She needed to know where he was at all times. Using her phone, she found his address and wondered why she had never tried to locate it before. Immediately she answered her own question. She had expected him to look for her—foolish romantic that she was.
When Katherine reached his neighborhood, she prepared to surpass him at his spy game. One street over from his home, she made a slow pass and peered at his house from between two residences. It looked exactly like what she would have expected—a large rustic house backed up to a canal. The yard sported more trees than grass.
With the two-car garage closed and the drive empty, she considered breaking in and searching for evidence. She might not find another opportunity. After a second pass down the street, she decided not to take the risk.
Lee could have parked his Jeep in the garage, and he seemed much more wary and capable than Buzzy or Johnny.
She would control her impatience and make do with what she could find in the office that night. Katherine’s next agenda was to board the boat for a few minutes unobserved. She would have to park elsewhere and walk again. She drove past the marina and checked for the Jeep or Johnny’s car. Finding neither, she drove on and parked behind her own church.
With purse and phone, she returned to the boat and ensconced herself in the cabin. The bed looked inviting, but she couldn’t risk staying that long. Someone had boarded her boat while it was moored at Marco, and that could happen again. Those discrepancies might not relate to the Buzzy matter, but she must consider such a possibility until she found out differently.
She studied her list of Chicago numbers and her copy of the bank picture while she tried to reach Laura on her phone.
