Lucky Break

by Mark Stone

  “It’s no trouble,” she said, smiling widely at me. “I enjoy it, in fact. It’s been awhile since I had somebody to cook for.” She eyed me up and down. “I can’t tell if you’re a red or a white guy.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

  “Wine,” she explained. “It’s fish. So, I guess traditionally, you’re supposed to go with white, but I’ve never been one to follow the rules. At least, where dinner is involved.”

  “You’re a real rulebreaker,” I muttered.

  “You have no idea,” she said. “Though maybe you should. I’ve got an idea.”

  “All the best nights of my life have started with that sentence,” I said.

  She laughed loudly, placing her hand on the back of her neck the way women do that makes them look really gorgeous. “I’m making Snapper New Orleans. I already started the fish on the grill, but I just threw them in the oven to bake along with the vegetables and sauce now. It’ll be at least twenty minutes before they’re ready. I was thinking we could have a little fun before we eat.”

  “What kind of fun, exactly?” I asked, looking her up and down as my heart sped up a little.

  “The kind that involves getting you into a pair of swimming trunks,” Mia answered, looking out at the Gulf.

  I felt a rush of heat creeping up my face as I took a deep breath.

  Mind on the job, Lucky. Keep your damn mind on the job.

  “I don’t have any swimming trunks,” I said, looking at her and keeping my voice steady.

  “That’s okay. I have an extra pair in my room,” she answered.

  “You have an extra pair of men’s swimming trunks?” I asked.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” Mia said. “It’s not as scandalous as all that. This is Florida, and coastal Florida at that. If you needed a snorkel, I could get you that too.”

  I swallowed hard, catching a whiff of Mia’s perfume, like sandalwood and lavender. “I guess I’ll need to go change, then,” I answered.

  “Be my guest,” she said, motioning to her room.

  This was a good thing. I mean, sure, it was strange and more than a little forward—not that I didn’t appreciate forward every once in awhile—but I could use this. Changing in Mia’s room meant being alone in Mia’s room. I could take a few moments and look around. With any luck, I might actually find something to help me figure out what the hell was going on here.

  Nodding at the woman, I walked toward the door at the center of the deck where the hub leading to the living area of this ship sat.

  “They’re in the top drawer, near the back,” Mia said.

  “Thanks,” I said, pushing through the door.

  The first room I came into was the small but decked out kitchen. The appliances all looked new and state of the art. The room was filled with the most mouthwatering scents I had ever come across in my life. I had absolutely no idea what Snapper New Orleans was, but if it was what was responsible for the intoxicating aroma I was experiencing right now, I knew I wanted it.

  Still, pushing forward, I left the kitchen and walked through a tidy living room with a television, a cushy-looking white couch, and a faux fireplace with a couple of pictures of people I’d never seen before on the mantle. I considered looking through here but thought better of it. I only had a couple of minutes, and people usually kept the stuff they didn’t want you to see in the bedroom. If I was going to find anything to help me, I was betting it would be in there.

  Heading to the left, I moved into the bedroom. Mia’s bed was a huge, tall thing with a flower-printed comforter and at least six too many pillows. It reminded me of almost every woman’s house I had ever been to, even if this one was floating.

  Going to the dresser, I pulled at the first drawer, finding the trunks. Tossing them on the bed, I kept rifling through the drawers. Jeans lay in one, shirts and socks in another. Underwear lay in the one closest to the floor. Still, there was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that gave me any indication she was hiding something.

  Pushing the drawers closed, I sighed and stood. Swallowing hard, I looked around the room. Getting on my knees, I reached under the bed only to find empty space. Pushing my arm further under, I started running it along the floor, following the length of the bed.

  I was just about to stand back up when my hand hit something hard. Wrapping my fingers around it, I pulled it out. It was a silver box with a black handle on it, a silver lock box, as it was. My mind flashed back to what Parker told me. They found a lock box at the ruins of George’s house. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Pulling the top open with my heart racing, I found a stack of folded up papers. This had to be more love letters, the answers to the ones found in George’s house. Grabbing the first one, I unfolded it.

  Reading the date at the top, I saw this was written nearly two months ago. My chest tightened. Not only was this confirmation of the relationship between Mia and George, but it stated without any uncertainty that it was going on as recent as two months ago.

  Scanning the letter, something strange and worrisome tugged at me. I recognized this handwriting. I knew it intimately. As I scanned to the end, to the place where George would have signed, I saw why it looked so familiar to me. George’s name wasn’t scrawled across the bottom of this letter. Mine was.

  The letter, in handwriting that I now saw was my own, read,

  Yours until forever fades away,

  Lucky John

  “What the hell?” I muttered, my eyes wide and my heart pounding. How was this possible? What was going on?

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” a voice sounded from behind me.

  Looking back with the letter in my hand, I saw Mia standing over me. She held her gun right at my face, her jaw set as she growled, “You have ten seconds to tell me what the hell you’re doing.”

  Chapter 23

  “What the hell is this?” I asked, my nostrils flaring as I stood up and held the paper in my hand. She had a gun pointed at me, sure, and maybe she was trying to frame me for murder. At this moment, though, none of that mattered to me. The only thing I cared about, the only thing that mattered, was answering the burning question of how any of this was even possible.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Mia said, shaking her head as her gun moved along with me. I might have been standing now, but the business end of her weapon was still pointed at my heart. “Because it looks to me like you’re trying to plant something in my house.” She scoffed. “I knew when you called me earlier that you were up to something. That’s why I said yes to this sham of an evening in the first place. It’s why I dressed up and suggested that we stay here. It’s even why I asked you to get into the water with me. I figured it’d throw you off your game. Whatever you were planning, I wanted to make you think I was interested in other things so you wouldn’t suspect I knew. I wanted home field advantage, and I wanted to give you all the space you needed to show your hand. I never thought it would be this, though. I never thought you’d be planting evidence in my house.”

  “Me?” I balked, honestly taken aback by what I was hearing. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. What is this? You’re the one behind all of this, aren’t you? You’re trying to frame me for murder. You put the gun in my house. You made sure the sheriff and his little lapdog came by in time to find it. But you didn’t expect that Davey and I would be able to get it out, did you?” I shook my head. “Now I know why you didn’t want me going to George’s house that night. You knew what I’d find. That’s why you came with me, isn’t it? You wanted to make sure I saw things the way you wanted me to see them. It’s also why you weren’t able to find Jack even though he was just hiding in the shower. You didn’t want to find him, did you? You wanted him to die that night. You wanted the son of the man you loved to suffer and die because he hurt you or something.”

  “Are you on drugs right now?” Mia asked, her eyes wide and her mouth turned downward. “I have no idea what you’re talking a
bout, but I can assure you I would never want to hurt Jack. Especially for any man, though I’m confused as to just who it is you think I’m in love with.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” I answered. “It’s as clear as the love letters they found at George’s house. You were in a relationship with the father of your best friend’s son.”

  “You really are insane, aren’t you?” Mia asked.

  “Don’t try to deny it!” I shouted, my hand clenching so tightly that the letter I held crumpled up in my fist. “They found the letters, Mia. They know you were in love with him. What I don’t know is why or how you managed to forge these.” I tossed the letter at her feet.

  “If you think I’m bending down to pick that up and leaving you an opening to attack me, you’ve got another thing coming, Lucky,” she said. “Now tell me what the hell that is and why you’re hiding it under my bed before I blow what little brains you have out.”

  “You’re really going to pretend that you don’t know what that is?” I balked. “I found it under your bed, for God’s sake.”

  “Just tell me!” Mia shouted, taking a deep breath.

  “They’re letters,” I answered. “They’re letters that I supposedly wrote to you, dated before I got here, and in my handwriting. I’m just not sure how you managed it. Have you ever even seen my handwriting?”

  “Only from your police statement about the other night,” she said. “But that’s beside the point. I didn’t write any letters, and I’ve never seen that box before in my life.”

  “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you didn’t write George Jensen any love letters either,” I spat back.

  “First off, I’m not somebody’s girlfriend in World War II. If I want to get in touch with someone, I’ll send them a text or an email. Secondly, and this is the more important part, George Jensen has never been someone I have ever thought about in anything even remotely close to a romantic capacity.”

  “Then where did the letters come from?” I asked. “And where did these come from?”

  “As far as I know, you put them here,” Mia said, her gun still pointed at me.

  “And how would I have done that?” I asked, shaking my head. “You just told me you’ve never seen this box before in your life. I’m wearing a T-shirt and cargo shorts. You watched me walk up to your boat. Where would I have hid something like this?”

  “I–I don’t know,” Mia said. “But you had to. There’s no other explanation.”

  “Yes there is,” I said. “You’re framing me, and you’re putting these letters here to fabricate some sort of preexisting relationship between us. I bent down and grabbed a handful of the letters, reading them over. “Look. You even wrote that I came here to be with you.” My mouth turned down in disgust. “You said we met in Tampa two months ago after I won the lottery.”

  “What?” Mia asked, her eyes going even wider. “How would you know about Tampa? How would anyone—”

  “You even said that you convinced me to kill George in cold . . .” My words drifted off because I knew what this meant. With sweaty palms, I read the part of the letter in question aloud. “My dearest Mia, you know I can’t go through this anymore. I know you said we should wait to kill him until after the new year, but I can’t bear the thought of your having to be with him anymore. The thought of his hands on your body makes it impossible for me to know peace. I won’t sleep until he’s gone. I have a plan. We’ll steal his son and pin it on him. We’ll kill him and set his house on fire. We’ll do it together.” I looked up at the woman, my mouth dry but my hands firm. “Why would you write this? Why would you pen something that incriminates you too?”

  I knew the answer before Mia had a chance to even open her mouth. The truth was, she wouldn’t. Something else was at play here. Someone was pulling at the both of us, moving us around like puppets on strings. And we had fallen for it.

  I heard a loud pop come from the outside. Instantly, my eyes met Mia’s. She turned and ran toward the door, toward the source of the noise. I followed suit, rushing up on deck.

  “My God!” Mia shouted. “We’ve been unmoored.”

  “What?” I asked, settling beside her at the center of the hull.

  “While we were inside fighting, someone unmoored this ship. They detached it from the pier,” she answered.

  “Why would they do that?” I answered quickly.

  “Someone was on my boat without my knowledge,” she said, ignoring my question. “Someone was in my home. How many times have they been in there? How much have they done?”

  “Why would they unmoor your boat, Mia?” I asked, trying to keep the main thing present in her mind. “What’s going on?”

  As if to answer my question, I heard a sharp whistle in the distance. My head jerking toward it, I saw a person dressed all in black, mask and all. It was the same person I’d seen before in Jack’s room, the same person who knocked me on my ass with that Taser.

  The masked figure lifted something. I thought it was another Taser at first, but he flipped a switch and then a button on the object they were holding turned red.

  Suddenly, the ship’s engines began to roar.

  “Oh, no,” Mia said, terror as evident in her voice as I had ever heard it in anything.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What does that thing do?”

  “I really hope I’m wrong,” Mia said. “But I’m thinking that thing has control of my boat.”

  And, with that, Mia’s boat took off like a rocket, taking us along for the ride.

  Chapter 24

  The force of the boat taking off at near full speed sent both Mia and me falling to the floor of the deck like dominos. As I collided with the floor, the breath being knocked from my lungs forcibly, I heard a shot ring out. Instantly, my blood ran cold. I knew what this was. Mia had been holding her gun. It was still in her hand when we ran out on deck. It was still in her hand when the ship started going and we fell. The jostling must have caused it to fire accidentally. Turning toward the woman, I looked at her, half expecting to find her lying in a quickly expanding pool of her own blood. Instead, I found her pushing herself back to her feet, kicking her heels off and swallowing hard.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “Did I get you?”

  “No,” I answered, shaking my head and looking myself over, still on the floor. “I’m fine. What about you?”

  “No,” she answered. “The gun was pointed outward when I fell, in your direction. If it would have hit one of us, it would have been you, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, it didn’t,” I said, standing and feeling the pull of just how fast this boat was going. “Now, we just have to deal with the fact that we’re on an out of control speeding ship.”

  “Right. That old chestnut,” Mia muttered, though she did it loudly. We both had to speak loudly, what with the sheer amount of wind whipping around the two of us tonight. I looked down at the water as it tore around the ship quickly, rivets dancing around us at breakneck speed. “Come on,” Mia said, nodding for her to follow. “The throttle sticks sometimes, and I might need help getting it back into position, especially with how far up that device must have pushed it.”

  “Who do you think that was?” I asked, following her toward the bow of the ship.

  “The same person who planted the notes under my bed,” she answered. “And the same person who planted whatever it was you said was planted at your house.”

  “The murder weapon,” I said uneasily.

  Mia ground to a halt and turned to me with large eyes. “You had the murder weapon?” she asked, her hand flying up to her mouth. “Why the hell didn’t you turn it in? We could have ran DNA on it.”

  “We think it was the murder weapon, and we didn’t find it until the sheriff and his wannabe foster son showed up, banging on the door,” I answered. “Besides, you couldn’t run DNA. Davey stuffed it down his pants.”

  “Wannabe foster son?” Mia asked, her nose scrunched up curiously. Then, hearing the rest of my sentence,
she balked. “Why would he stuff it down his pants?”

  “We have bigger problems, Mia,” I said. “How much longer can we go this fast through the Gulf without colliding with something?”

  “Probably not much longer,” she conceded. “We’re like a giant bullet running through the water. Come on.”

  She ran toward the bow and then up the steps that led to the throttle. “Damnit!” she said, slamming an open palm against the stupid thing.

  “What is it?” I asked, looking at the round wheel and golden handle attached to it.

  “Look at it!” she yelled, pointing to the words stamped along the wheel like we were playing The Price is Right and she was trying to show me how to win big bucks. “It’s on stop.”

  “We’re definitely not stopped,” I answered, looking out at the expanse of dark water in front of us. It looked like a never-ending sea of nothing. It looked like we could get lost here and never be heard from again. Which, come to think of it, might have actually been what the person in the mask wanted. “The device the masked person held in their hand must have taken control remotely. Maybe you can’t switch it off manually now, and it probably means you can’t control the steering either.”

  “How kind of you to point that out,” she said swiftly. “Got any other obvious observations you want to toss out while we have time? I suppose next you’re going to tell me that ice cream is good and pizza makes you fat.”

  “Ice cream makes you fat too, but shut up for a second. I’m trying to think,” I answered. “Is there an emergency override on this thing? Kind of like a big ass parking brake or something?”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Mia said, turning tail and rushing back down the steps and into the main area of the deck. “There’s a system override down here somewhere. I’ve never had the need to use it before, so I’m not sure how it works. But it’s definitely worth a try.”

  “Better than slamming into something, I guess,” I answered loudly, following her.