Fortune Furlough

by Jana DeLeon

  “I doubt it, but Fletcher would have known they were law enforcement,” I said. “People in his line of work can spot a Fed as easily as I can. They probably claimed they were real estate developers or insurance agents…something of that sort.”

  “And by asking Fletcher questions, they tipped off one of the guys they should have been gunning for,” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded.

  “So why didn’t he clear out last night?” Gertie asked.

  “Just speculating…because he wouldn’t make a move without talking to the boss first,” I said. “Maybe the boss told him to wait while he verified the threat, then called today and told him to leave. Or maybe he couldn’t reach the boss yesterday and finally got too antsy to wait any longer, so he made the decision to leave.”

  “Maybe by the time he got an answer from the boss, the marina was closed and he couldn’t fill up his gas tank,” Gertie said.

  I laughed. “The simplest answers…”

  “So Martin must have seen or heard something in the Keys,” Gertie said, “but wasn’t sure what was going on. Then he came here and saw Fletcher, the owner, and the boat and started putting it together.”

  “I think that’s what all the fishing trips were about—him observing Fletcher’s boat outings, making notes so he had enough to attempt blackmail. The drugs were in the fish. That’s why they were slit open in the pictures. Martin must have found their discards after they’d taken the product out and took shots of them.

  “What a moron,” Gertie said. “Trying to blackmail drug dealers. Doesn’t he read the newspaper? Watch a movie? Drug dealers do not play.”

  “Sociopaths always think they’re smarter than everyone else,” I said as I drove over the bridge and onto the island.

  “So what do we do?” Gertie asked. “We can’t call Benton with this. He’ll just tack another body onto my name. What about calling the DEA?”

  “Even if we could convince them of anything, they’d insist on seeing the body and the photos, and by that time, Fletcher will be long gone.”

  I turned onto the road for the marina.

  “We’re going after him?” Ida Belle asked.

  I nodded. “I don’t see any other way.”

  “In what?” Ida Belle asked. “The only boat guy here we know is Dave and we couldn’t catch an Olympic swimmer in his boat.”

  “It’s all we’ve got.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Dave.

  “I have an emergency,” I said. “Meet me at the dock.”

  “I’m already there,” Dave said. “You have a fishing emergency?”

  “Sort of. Be there in a minute.”

  Dave was standing in front of the dock when I wheeled into the parking lot and slid to a stop. He stared, slightly startled as I jumped out of the car and hurried over.

  “I don’t have a lot of time to explain, so I’m going to go through this fast, okay?” I said.

  He nodded, looking completely confused and slightly scared.

  I pulled out my CIA identification and showed him. “I’m not here on official business, but I’m showing you this so you know to trust what I’m about to tell you.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re a spook? No lie?”

  “No lie. I need you to listen carefully. I believe Otis Baker was attempting to blackmail Fletcher, the resort manager, because Otis discovered he was running drugs on his boss’s boat. I believe Fletcher killed Otis.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “Unfortunately, Otis got your friend Mikey involved and he’s dead as well.”

  “Mikey’s dead? No. You’re wrong.”

  “Trust me, I saw him myself, but that will have to wait. The DEA showed up yesterday at the resort, probably trying to locate the owner, who I think is the boss. They questioned Fletcher, not realizing he was in on the drug running. Now, Fletcher has taken the boat and is running. If we don’t catch him, he’ll get away with killing your friend.”

  “Oh, hell no!” Dave said. “That ain’t happening.”

  “Let me borrow your boat,” I said. “I’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done.”

  “No way!” Dave said. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I can’t let you do that. This man has already killed two people.”

  “Well, you ain’t gonna make it out of the sound without me. You don’t know where the sandbars are. And my boat ain’t gonna catch that fancy machine Fletcher is on. Give me a minute.”

  Dave spun around and ran for the marina.

  “Where is he going?” Gertie asked.

  “I hope to get a faster boat,” Ida Belle said.

  “Great,” I said. “Then we can add stealing a boat to our list of things we’ve done.”

  “We’ve already stolen a boat,” Gertie said.

  “You stole a boat,” I said.

  “That was in Sinful,” Ida Belle said. “You could claim it was indiscriminate borrowing and get away with it.”

  “You’re sure Fletcher is our guy?” Gertie asked. “Not that I’m against stealing a boat, but we probably ought to be fairly certain about this before we do.”

  “I guess we’ll know for sure when we find him,” I said. “If he starts shooting at us, then I’m right.”

  Ida Belle snorted. “That’s a hell of a sniff test.”

  I tapped my foot, then paced, looking over at the marina and waiting on Dave to reappear. I was just about to go looking for him when I heard a low rumble. A couple seconds later, a long, sleek speedboat appeared past the marina with Dave at the helm.

  Ida Belle clutched my arm and her knees buckled a little.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “That’s a Fountain Lightning. Twin 1075s. I may pass out. Pinch me so I know I haven’t died.”

  I glanced at Ida Belle, then the boat, then looked over at Gertie. “If she’s this excited, that means that boat is practically unattainable by regular folk. We’re going under the jail, aren’t we?”

  “Maybe we’ll get time off for catching a murderer,” Gertie said.

  Dave pulled up at the end of the dock and motioned frantically at us.

  This is a bad idea.

  I knew that was true, but the desire to catch the lying, drug-dealing, murdering Fletcher was outweighing common sense.

  “How fast does that thing go?” I asked. There was no point in going to jail for stealing a boat if it couldn’t even do the job.

  “One-ten…one-fifteen,” Ida Belle said. “Depends on the wind.”

  “How fast does the boat Fletcher is in go?”

  “Maybe fifty miles per hour,” Ida Belle said.

  “So half the speed, but Fletcher is moving in a straight line out of Dodge and we have to traverse the Gulf to spot him,” I said.

  “Unless you can conjure up a plane or helicopter, this is our best chance,” Ida Belle said.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “Before I change my mind.”

  “Look at it this way,” Gertie said as we hurried down the dock. “Dave was going to steal the boat and go after Fletcher whether we were with him or not.”

  “And you don’t want him to go to jail alone?” I asked.

  “It wouldn’t be very Southern of us if we did,” Gertie said.

  “Hurry up!” Dave yelled.

  As we jumped on board, Dave handed us life jackets. I didn’t know whether to be thankful he was being responsible or scared that someone like Dave thought life jackets were necessary.

  “Dave,” I said. “I have to ask. Did you steal this boat?”

  “What?” He looked surprised. “No. I borrowed it from Bobby. The guy who owns it owes him a ton of money for fixing it and won’t pay. Until he coughs up the cash, the judge said the boat is Bobby’s.”

  That didn’t sound completely right, but I’d asked the question so if this went to court, at least I had a defense. A bit flimsy but not a lie.

  “I, uh, don’t suppose you have any weapons on board, do you?” I asked.

  “This is Florida,” Dave said. “I grabbed som
e supplies from my boat and stuck ’em in the cabin.”

  I didn’t ask any more questions because I had the sneaking impression that Dave’s “supplies” might be kin to Gertie’s handbag contents. It was better for my defense if I could claim I didn’t know. I pointed to the passenger seat and told Ida Belle to take it. I knew she would defer to me as point, but I also knew she was dying to see the boat operate, and she had her best view of the driving from the passenger seat. Gertie and I took two of the three back row seats, leaving the middle empty so the weight was balanced.

  Dave barely waited for our butts to hit the vinyl before he headed out. His jaw flexed as he moved the boat away from the dock and into the deeper water of the sound, and I could tell he was just itching to gun it. I hoped to God he knew what he was doing. I’d seen a boat like this on YouTube go completely airborne and flip over. That was definitely something I wasn’t interested in experiencing.

  He increased speed as we moved away from the bank and began the weaving process that was required to properly navigate the sandbars. I hated to admit it, but he was right. I would have never gotten a boat into the Gulf. I simply didn’t know the underwater terrain. It seemed as though it took forever, but finally, we hit the channel that led from the sound into the Gulf.

  “Which way?” Dave asked.

  “South,” Ida Belle said.

  “You’re thinking Cuba?” Dave asked.

  “Easy enough to catch a private jet out of there,” I said. “Especially if you’ve got local officials on the payroll.”

  “South it is,” Dave said. “Hold on to your butts!”

  I was nestled pretty deep in the seat, but I still braced myself for the launch that was sure to come. But instead the boat bucked, then slammed down repeatedly on the water, tossing Dave clean out of the driver’s seat. Ida Belle managed to hold on but she looked a bit rumpled. Gertie had been thrown straight up and had come down sideways across the back seats.

  “Are you trying to kill us?” Gertie asked as she pushed herself up.

  “Hold on,” Dave said. “That was a mistake. I just didn’t…uh, I forgot to…”

  “You do know how to drive this boat, right?” I asked.

  “It’s a boat,” Dave said. “There’s a throttle and engines and it floats.”

  I looked over at Ida Belle. What I knew about boats could fit into a thimble, but I would bet that thimble of knowledge that this boat wasn’t even remotely the same as Dave’s fishing charter.

  “I got this,” Ida Belle said, and waved Dave out of the way.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Ida Belle stared. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to drive one of these things.”

  She moved into the driver’s seat and looked back at us. “Now, hold on to your butts.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ida Belle adjusted something on the dash, then I saw her hand move to the throttle. A second later, I didn’t see anything at all. The boat launched out of the water but instead of slamming down, it shot over the top of the ocean like a plane taking off. Wind tore at my face and I’m pretty sure my eyelids turned inside out. Gertie’s cheeks were pulled back so far on her face that it looked as though she’d been the victim of really bad plastic surgery. Her eyes were clenched shut, probably in defense against the wind or maybe just so she couldn’t see her own death rushing at her.

  “Whoohoo!” Dave yelled, and did a move like he was riding a bull. Of course, he had a windshield to block the hurricane-force gale, so it was easier to be so excited. The ocean and the sky blended together in one blue blur as minute after minute of blinding speed ticked off. I began to worry that we’d speed right by Fletcher, but after about twenty minutes of top-end speed, Ida Belle cut the throttle. I lurched forward, barely managing to keep my seat. Gertie flew out of hers and hit the back of Dave’s chair.

  “Darn it!” Ida Belle said. “We need binoculars.”

  I looked over the bow and saw a boat in the distance, but it was too far away to tell if it was Fletcher.

  “Hold on,” Dave said, and went into the cabin. He came back with a duffel bag and pulled a pair of binoculars out of it. “Here ya go.”

  Ida Belle took a look. “No go. It’s a sailboat.”

  She handed the binoculars back to Dave and we took off again. Two more times, Dave caught sight of a glint of sun off a boat, but neither was Fletcher. I checked my watch as we took off again. We’d already been on the water for over an hour. We should be getting close.

  Another ten minutes passed and Ida Belle slowed again. She took the binoculars from Dave, took a look, then shook her head. “It’s a fishing boat.”

  “Fletcher can’t be that far ahead,” I said. “Approach that boat. They might have seen Fletcher. And approach them slowly. We don’t want to kill them with our wake.”

  Ida Belle nodded and moved the boat at a reasonable clip toward the fishing boat. Reasonable for Ida Belle, anyway. When she was about fifty yards away, she cut her speed to a slow cruise.

  “That’s Sea Bass Steve,” Dave said. “He’s a buddy.”

  As Ida Belle pulled closer to the other boat, two older men on the back deck scowled. Dave stood up and waved.

  “It’s Dave!” he yelled.

  The two men stopped scowling and shifted to confused.

  “What are you doing on that boat?” the first man asked. Since his hat read Sea Bass Steve, I assumed he was the boat captain.

  “I’m borrowing it,” Dave said. “Listen, we got an emergency. Have you seen that fancy yacht that belongs to the resort owner?”

  “Yeah,” the second man said. “It went past about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Which direction?” Dave asked.

  Steve frowned, probably picking up on Dave’s anxiety. “Why you asking?”

  “Because that manager guy that takes out the yacht killed Mikey Marlin and he’s making a run for it. We’re thinking Cuba.”

  Their eyes widened and they looked back and forth from Dave to the rest of us. I didn’t blame them for being confused. The entire situation was a Twilight Zone episode from where they were standing.

  “You been smoking weed again?” Steve asked.

  “No. Look, this lady is CIA. I’m telling you the truth.”

  I pulled out my ID and showed them. Their expressions shifted from disbelief to startled, and then Steve flushed with anger.

  “You’re serious? He killed Mikey?” Steve asked.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said. “Will you please tell us what direction the boat was going? We have to catch him before he hits Cuba.”

  “Due south,” Steve said. “You get after him. We’ll be right behind you.”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “We don’t need any help.”

  “It’s not about what you think you need,” Steve said. “Mikey was our friend. Now get going with that ridiculous boat and catch that yacht. We’ll be there to help soon as we can.”

  It was pointless to argue and besides, if Steve even managed to catch up with us, the whole thing would be over. I motioned to Ida Belle and everyone got back in their seats.

  “Take it easy until you’re some distance away,” Dave said. “I don’t want to flip Steve over.”

  Ida Belle eased away from the other boat, but once she was a safe distance, she punched it and hooted when the boat leaped out of the water. I said a quick prayer as we hit warp speed and hoped we didn’t come to a stop in an alternate universe. This had to be how fighter pilots felt. Except they had those cool suits and oxygen. I made a mental note to bring a flight suit and oxygen tank next time we went on vacation. My list of vacation needs was getting extensive.

  Just when I thought my chest might collapse, Ida Belle cut the throttle and pointed. Dave grabbed the binoculars, then nodded.

  “That’s him,” he said. “Let’s go get that, er…bad guy.”

  I knew it wasn’t what he wanted to say. It wasn’t what I would have said, either. Fletcher was a despicable human be
ing and it was time he paid for his crimes.

  “So what’s the plan?” Ida Belle said.

  “Pull near him,” I said. “Ask him to surrender quietly.”

  “You really think that’s going to work?” Gertie asked.

  “Of course not.” I pulled out my cell phone and called Carter.

  “I have the murderer, sort of,” I said when he answered.

  “What the hell?” he asked.

  “You can yell later,” I said. “Right now, I need you to call the DEA and tell them that the drug runner they’re looking for is Fletcher Sampson. He’s making a run for Cuba right now.”

  “Please do not tell me you’re on a boat chasing a drug runner to Cuba.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you. Grab a pen. Send the DEA to…” I waved at Ida Belle and she gave me the coordinates.

  I passed them on to Carter, who was still grumbling.

  “Do not approach this guy,” Carter said. “Wait for the DEA to get there.”

  “No can do,” I said. “They’ll never make it in time unless they plan on flying in and bombing the yacht. That boat is way too fast.”

  “And how did you catch it? Because I don’t hear the whine of an airplane engine or the thumping of a helicopter.”

  “We have a Fountain on loan.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I don’t care if he makes it all the way to Argentina. Do not approach. He’s probably sitting on a stock of weapons that rivals gun runners.”

  “I’ll figure something out. Got to go.”

  I shoved my phone back in my pocket and motioned to Ida Belle. “Go ahead and approach. Everyone stay low. He’s bound to be armed and I don’t want him getting off a clean shot at any of us.”

  Ida Belle eased the boat forward. With the slower speed, I was able to move into the open space between her and Dave and peer over the bow. I grabbed the binoculars for a closer look and spotted Fletcher on the top deck, driving the boat. He looked back, grabbed a set of binoculars and trained them on our boat. I saw him cursing as he lowered them and reached for something in a compartment below the steering wheel. From his elevation, he could easily see who we were, and I was certain he knew why we were there.