“I remember. And do you remember we both agreed that you were going to lay off that stuff and stop putting yourself in danger?”
“We agreed?”
Maxine glared at Dan. “You have to stop doing stupid shit like that. Some day you might be … a father.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “A father?” he asked. “Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not really father material.”
“Yeah, I've noticed!” Maxine shouted. “I'm going to bed.” Maxine jumped up off the sofa and stormed out of the room carrying her drink with her.
“What the hell was that?” Dan whispered to himself. He watched Maxine leave the room and disappear down the hallway. He stared at the hall entrance for a few seconds, half expecting her to return. She didn't. Dan shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention to the television, still wondering what he had said to set her off. Twenty minutes later, he drifted off to sleep.
*****
Dan awoke in his recliner at three the following morning. Mason Land was kneeling in the street beside a thin man in a Members Only jacket. Land was dressed in his usual black T-shirt, cargo shorts, and Dodger's ball cap. Land pressed his index and middle fingers against the guy's carotid artery and said, “He's dead.”
Dan reached for the remote and shut off the TV. He groaned quietly as he climbed out of his recliner. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He put his shoulders back and tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. His toes cracked as he walked as stealthily as he could down the hall to the bathroom. He didn't want to wake Maxine. He couldn't remember if she said she had to work in the morning, or not. If he woke her up, and she didn't have to work, she would be pissed. If her didn't wake her up, and she did have to work, she would be pissed. Catch-22. He stepped up to the toilet and lifted the lid. Gotta remember to put that back down, he thought. The littlest things set her off the last few days.
As Dan peed he glanced over into the white plastic wastebasket. A small, pink and white cardboard package caught his eye. Every hair on his body stood on end. What the Christ?
Chapter Seven
Red was at Dan's front door the next morning at precisely seven-thirty. The promise of a free breakfast was enough of a motivator to not only get Red’s help for the day, but also enough to get Red to deliver Dan’s Porsche. He knocked on the door.
Dan was on his knees in the living room removing the legs from the dry-erase board. He spun on his knees and put his fingers to his lips to shush the big galoot.
Red tried the doorknob, it was locked. He pointed down at the knob.
Dan got up and tiptoed to the door to unlock it. He pulled it open. “Be quiet,” he said. “Maxine is asleep.”
“She doesn't have to work today?”
“I don't know.”
Red stepped through the doorway, and Dan quietly closed the door behind him.
“I've almost got it all apart,” said Dan.
“You think it'll fit in your Porsche?”
“It should. I'll just put the top down and stand it on end in the backseat.” Dan dropped back to his knees and picked up the Allen wrench he was using.
“How was she when she got home from work last night?” Red asked, as he looked on.
“Fine, at first—thanks for driving my car over here, by the way.”
“No problem. What do you mean, 'at first?'”
“We were watching TV and—”
“What were you watching?”
“Does it matter?”
“I was just trying to get the feel of the story.”
“I'm just trying to get through the story.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyhoo, we were watching TV. I made myself a drink. I made her a drink. We started talking about our day and—”
“Did you tell her about renting the office?”
“You can't not talk, can you?”
“When I think of a question, I ask it.”
“I'll tell you what, let me finish the story, and afterward, there'll be a short Q and A.”
“Just finish the story.”
“We were talking about my day—and yes I told her about the office. All of a sudden she got mad and stomped out of the room and went to bed.”
“Did you ask her about her day?”
“No.”
“Maybe that's why she was mad.”
“I don't think so,” Dan replied. “Because later I went to the bathroom. That's when I found it.”
“Found what?”
Dan looked toward the hallway. “I'll tell you at breakfast. I don't want to say anything here.”
“I hate when people do that.”
“Do what?” Dan pulled out the last screw and handed it to Red.
“Build something up like that, and then make me wait.”
Dan separated the leg of the dry-erase board from the foot. “You know how you keep a jackass in suspense?”
“No,” Red replied. “How?”
“I'll tell ya that over breakfast as well.”
“Now that's two things I gotta wait for.”
Dan shook his head. “Carry those legs and feet out to the car. I'll get the case board.”
Red bent over and picked up the legs and the other foot. He turned and walked toward the door. Dan followed him carrying the case board. “Get the door,” he said.
“Give me a second.”
“You move like a turtle, for chrissakes.”
“A turtle?”
“Yeah, a big fat turtle.”
“I've lost twelve pounds over the last two weeks,” Red shot back.
Dan looked down at Red's belly and pointed. “And I found it in less than three seconds.”
“You're no string bean yourself.”
Red opened the door and Dan walked out first. Red followed and shut the door behind him. Together the two men walked to Dan's car. Dan sat the case board down in his front yard, and leaned it up against the palm tree. He opened his car door, put his keys in the ignition, and lowered the roof.
Red placed the legs and feet into the backseat as Dan retrieved the case board.
“I don't know if that's gonna fit,” Red said. “You want me to call Skip and have him drive the Thing over? I'm sure it'll fit in that old tank.”
“Christ no,” Dan replied. “It'll fit.”
Dan was right: it fit, but just barely. In order to close the car doors, the case board had to be stood on end, and placed on the seat in front of the legs. This left the board sticking about three feet above the car.
The amateur movers climbed in the car and shut the doors.
“What if the wind blows it out of the car?” Red asked.
“How fast do you think I'm gonna drive?” Dan responded. “Just reach back and hold it while we're moving.”
Red did as he was asked.
Dan started the car, backed out of the driveway, and headed down the street.
“Oh, I get it” Red said. “You're keeping a jackass in suspense by not telling me.”
“You're a goddamn genius, my friend.”
Chapter Eight
Dan pulled off of Whitehead Street and onto the sidewalk in front of the stairs that led up to his office.
“I don't think you can park here,” Red said.
“I'm not parking,” Dan replied. “I'm unloading.”
Red opened his door and got out. “I think you have to leave the engine running.”
“Why?”
“Because if you shut off the engine, you're parked.”
Dan shut off the engine and got out. “I'm not leaving my car running out here for someone to steal.”
Red shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He leaned into the car and grabbed the case board's legs and feet.
Dan jogged up the stairs ahead of Red to unlock the door. He turned the knob and pushed open the door. “Waddaya think?” he asked.
Red stepped into the office, nodding his head. “Nice,” he replied. “Very nice.”
Dan pointed at t
he desk. “Secretary's desk.”
“You're getting a secretary?”
“Probably not, but it would be nice to have someone to keep the ice bucket filled.” Dan walked to the door next to the desk and opened it. “My office is in here.”
Red followed him. “Nice.”
Dan turned and pointed at the other door. “Bathroom over there.”
“Nice,” Red said for the third time. “Where do you want this stuff?”
“Just lay it there on the floor,” Dan said, pointing in front of the desk. “Let's get that case board up here.”
Red dropped the legs on the floor and they walked back down the stairs to the car. There was already a Key West patrol car sitting behind Dan's Porsche. An officer was walking around to the front of the Porsche as he opened his ticket book.
“I was just on my way down to move it,” Dan said.
“You can't park on the sidewalk,” said the young cop. He closed his ticket book.
“I know,” said Dan, “that's why I was on my way down to move it.”
“Can we just take the dry-erase board out of the backseat and bring it upstairs first?” Red asked the cop.
“Nope,” said the officer. He pointed to some parking spaces across the intersection, on Fleming Street. “Park over there, then carry it over.”
“But, we're good friends of Chief Carver,” Red argued.
“Yeah,” said the officer with a condescending tone, “everyone is a friend of the chief's when they're getting a ticket. This is a small island, pal. You know how many tickets we would write if we stopped writing them for everyone who knew somebody?”
“Four,” Dan replied.
“What?” said the cop.
“You asked how many,” Dan replied. “I guessed four.”
“Are you being a smart-ass?”
“He's not being smart-ass,” Red said. “Move the car, Dan.”
“I'll move it after we take the case board upstairs,” Dan responded.
“You'll move it now,” said the cop.
Dan squinted to read the officer's name tag. “Or what, Officer Barbosa?” Dan asked.
“Or nothing,” said Red. “Move the car, Dan.”
Barbosa stared at Dan. “Don't I know you?”
“No.”
“Yeah, I know you.” The young officer switched his ticket book from his right hand to his left, and then reached around to the other side of his belt, putting his right hand on the grip of his Taser. “You're that asshole who crashed his Porsche into the block wall on Christmas morning a couple years back. You threatened me with a broken tequila bottle.”
Dan raised his hand slightly. “Guilty as charged.” He reached into the back seat and grabbed one side of the case board. “Grab the other side, Red.”
Red didn't move. He looked from Dan to Barbosa, and back.
“Place your hands on the hood of the car, sir,” said Barbosa.
Red threw up his arms in surrender. “He'll move the car, officer.”
“Grab the other side, Red,” said Dan.
“Place your hands on the hood of the car, sir.” Barbosa tossed his ticket book on the hood of Dan's car and keyed his mic. “Code nine at the corner of Whitehead and Fleming.” He released his mic. “I'm going to ask you one more time to put your hands on the hood of the car.” The officer removed his Taser from its holster.
“You're gonna tase me for a parking violation?” Dan responded.
“Just put your hands on the hood, Dan,” said Red.
Sirens were already wailing in the distance.
Dan side stepped to the front of his car and placed the palms of his hands on the hood of the car. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Back up,” Barbosa told Red.
Red did as he was ordered and took four steps back, keeping his hands in the air.
The officer cautiously moved around the front of Dan's car, removing his handcuffs from his utility belt as he walked. He kept the Taser in his right hand. “Put your hands behind your back.”
Dan put his hands behind his back. The cop slapped one cuff on his right hand and then the other on his left. With his foot he kicked the inside of Dan's right ankle to move his feet apart. “Don't move.”
Two patrol cars, with their light bars flashing, pulled up to the scene. They both cut their sirens. One stopped in the intersection, and the other pulled up and came to a stop in the middle of Whitehead Street. Fifteen to twenty onlookers had already gathered to watch the show.
Red moved up behind Barbosa, startling him. “Would it be okay if I—”
Barbosa spun around and squeezed the trigger. There was a loud pop as the blast doors separated from the Taser. Red barely had time to blink as the barbed probes pierced his T-shirt and embedded in his chest.
“Aarrgh!” the big man screamed, and dropped on his back on the sidewalk.
The officer squeezed the trigger again, sending 50,000 volts through Red's body. Red started spinning around on his side like Curly of the Three Stooges. Dan busted a gut laughing.
Three officers ran toward Red. One dropped his knee on Red's chest and shouted, “Stop resisting!” The officer rolled Red onto his belly and cuffed his hands behind his back. “Don't get up.”
“I wasn't planning on it,” Red groaned. He turned his head to see Dan looking down at him. Dan was grinning big.
“I hate you,” Red said.
“That's mean,” Dan said. “Give him another shot of juice, Barbosa.”
Chapter Nine
Red was sitting on the bottom step of the wooden staircase that led to Dan's office. His handcuffs had already been removed. His elbows were resting on his knees, and he rubbed his temples with his fingertips.
The second two patrol cars to arrive had already left the scene. Chief Rick Carver's Ford Bronco sat behind Barbosa's cruiser.
“He was being a dick,” Dan said, as Rick Carver removed the handcuffs from his wrists. “All we wanted to do was move the—”
“I don't care what you wanted to do,” Rick interrupted. He tossed the cuffs over the top of Dan's car to Barbosa. “He said he told you to move the car.”
“And I told him I would move it as soon as we moved the case board upstairs.”
“Case board.” Rick rolled his eyes. “When he tells you to move the car, you move it. You don't get to decide when.”
“I think he owes me an apology,” Dan said.
“An apology! For what?”
“He didn't want to tase me because I wasn't moving the car,” Dan pointed out. “He wanted to because he remembered me from Christmas two years ago. He didn't even pull that Taser out until he recognized me. Ask Red.”
Red looked up and glared at Dan. “I wish he hadda shot you,” he said.
“Ouch,” Dan said.
“I've got him on resisting arrest,” said Barbosa.
“I've got him on resisting arrest,” Dan parroted.
“Knock it off!” Rick shouted.
“I should sue,” said Dan. He waved his arm toward Red. “Look at poor Red. He should sue.”
“I told him to back up,” Barbosa said. “He came up behind me. I didn't know what he was doing.”
“It's not his fault,” said Red. “I should have stayed where I was.”
“He owes us both an apology,” said Dan.
“No one's apologizing,” Rick informed Dan. “Now get this car out of here.”
“Can we bring the case board upstairs first?” Dan asked.
“No!” Rick hollered.
“You're just being hard to get along with.”
“You want me to put those cuffs back on you?”
“No.” Dan reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Come on, Red.”
“I'm waiting right here on this step,” Red said.
Rick and Barbosa stood together in the street and watched while Dan drove his car to a parking spot on Fleming Street. When Dan lifted the case board out of the back seat, and had carried it halfway back acro
ss the street, they climbed into their vehicles and drove off.
“Can you give me a hand with this?” Dan asked, as he reached the stairs.
“No,” Red replied. He stood and stepped aside to let Dan up the stairs.
Dan glanced down at the front of Red's cargo shorts and snickered.
Red looked down at the small wet spot. “What?”
“You pissed yourself a little,” Dan chuckled.
“Yeah, you try getting blasted with a million volts of electricity and see if you don't piss yourself.”
Dan started up the stairs. “Maybe we should buy you a package of Depends.”
“Maybe we should … should do, um—”
“You trying to come up with a good comeback, or are you having a stroke?”
“Shut up.”
“Ooh, burn.” Dan walked through the office door and leaned the case board against the wall.
“Breakfast now?” Red asked.
Dan pulled out his cell and looked at the time. “Can't.”
“What do you mean, can't?”
“It's too late. My first client will be here in a few minutes.”
“I knew you were gonna do this. What time is your meeting?”
“Ten.”
“That Voldemort lady?”
“Valdosta.”
“Can we go eat after she leaves?”
“No. I have another meeting at noon.”
“With who?”
“Lola Paragould.”
“What's she want?”
“Her husband is missing.”
“Isn't that why you're meeting Voldemort?”
“Valdosta, and yes.”
“Two missing husbands?”
“Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“They both said their husband's name was Branson.”
“And you're thinking it could be the same guy?”
“Branson isn't a very popular name.”
“Which brings up an even more important question.”
“What's that?”
“Can we go eat after Paragould leaves?”
Dan pulled a Ziploc bag containing screws, bolts, nuts, and an Allen wrench from the side pocket of his cargo shorts and handed it to Red. “Start putting this case board together,” he said. “I'm gonna run around the corner to CVS and grab some paper, pens, and a few other things we'll need here in the office.”
Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12) Page 4
