BAD TIME TO BE IN IT

by David Burnsworth

  Apparently Blu would not have to take Josie up on her offer to track the biker by his phone. At least as long as he continued to show up upon request.

  Shelby bounded down the steps again and greeted the biker.

  Crome stooped to pet the dog.

  “Got more coffee inside,” Pelton said. “Darcy made breakfast. Come on in.”

  After Crome topped the stairs, with Shelby in the lead, they all went inside. Patricia, Tess, and Darcy stood around the center island in the kitchen. Sitting out, buffet style, were a mostly eaten quiche and a second whole one, a bowl of cut fruit, and a plate of scones.

  Crome reached inside his vest, pulled out a small black device and handed it to Tess. “I think this might be yours.”

  It was the tracker they’d installed on his motorcycle.

  Tess gave him a weak smile. “If you hadn’t turned into such an ass, we wouldn’t have needed it.”

  Pelton stepped between them and handed Crome a cup of coffee.

  Crome said, “Harmony was with the mayor last night.”

  Blu hadn’t mentioned to the group exactly why they should meet, just that they needed to. After the call from Blu, Tess had tried to contact Harmony and only got voicemail.

  Patricia stammered, “How…when…it couldn’t be…”

  Continuing, Crome said, “We’re all friends here, right?”

  Not exactly an appropriate question from him at the moment, Blu thought, considering the exercise he’d just put them through.

  Crome said, “I was following Harmony to make sure she was safe. It seemed to me she could be the next most likely one in trouble. She met the mayor at the marina and they went out on his boat.”

  Tess said, “And now they’re both missing.”

  Crome said, “I hope I’m not right about this.”

  “Could be,” Pelton said, “that the Coast Guard will find them come first light.”

  Tess said, “It doesn’t feel like it’s going to go that way to me.”

  Darcy put an arm around Tess.

  “Harmony must have kept this a secret.” Tess looked at Patricia. “I didn’t know, and I normally know everything she’s up to.”

  “Well, she wasn’t the first woman he took out there on his boat,” Patricia said, no emotion in her voice.

  Nobody in the room dared ask if she’d been one as well. Blu suspected she hadn’t.

  Darcy said, “We’ve got two missing women. Might be connected. Might not. Either way, our work just doubled.”

  Blu watched the group react to what she’d said. Patricia was probably contemplating the fact that it could have been her instead of Harmony. Tess showed real concern for her BFF. Darcy had already kicked into business mode. Blu was surprised Brack wasn’t cleaning his guns in preparation for a fight. Crome leaned against the doorway, actually sipping a cup of coffee, appearing to take in the scene.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Thursday

  Tess drove into the city, the top down on her convertible Volkswagen and the sun warming her face and exposed shoulders. Traffic across the Cooper River Bridge was steady but just past rush hour crazy.

  She’d known something was wrong. Felt it. It was like that with her and Harmony.

  Harmony had been acting different lately and Tess knew she was hiding something. Having an affair with the married mayor wasn’t in and of itself something worth hiding. Tess had a feeling it was less about romance, if at all, and more about some lead. Harmony had no problem using her sexuality to get what she needed. This was much like Darcy Pelton using her family money to buy information—whatever it took to get to the truth of the story.

  A long time ago, Tess had drawn lines for herself that she never crossed. She never slept with a man for any reason besides love or basic attraction. She never paid too much money for information. She always kept her sources confidential. And she obeyed her conscience. Because of these lines, she never felt the need to hide things from Harmony. There was nothing to hide.

  She parked in the downtown marina, the same place where four years ago a Charleston Police Detective had gunned down a local mobster named Michael Galston. Brack, Darcy, and Patricia Voyels had also been involved. It had been related to the murder of Brack’s uncle and Patricia’s ex-husband.

  The man working the office at the marina, an older gentleman with white hair and a growing bald patch on the back of his head, a Jimmy Buffet T-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops greeted her.

  She showed him her press credentials. “Tess Ray, investigative reporter.”

  Donning reader glasses, the man said, “That’s what it says. What can I do for you, Ms. Ray?” He grinned as he looked her up and down.

  Was he flirting with her? Her instinct said yes.

  “And you are?” she asked, not exactly shutting him down, but not giving him anything either.

  “Jack Rube. I’m the manager.”

  “What kind of security do you have here, Mr. Rube?”

  “Call me Jack,” he said. “During the day, you got me. I’m free most nights.”

  Ignoring the obvious ploy, she asked, “Does someone else watch the slips at night?”

  “Sure. Plus we got a really good camera system. Me and the owners can access it twenty-four seven.”

  “You don’t happen to keep digital records, do you?”

  He smiled. “We do.”

  “Is it possible to view the footage from last night?”

  Another smile. “It is.”

  “Can I?”

  The smile left. “I’m afraid I can’t share it with you. If you tell me what this is about, maybe I can take a look for you.”

  If she mentioned that the mayor was missing, he would probably clam up and wait for the police to come in with a warrant. She needed to see it now.

  “A friend of mine who I suspect is missing might have gotten on a boat last night.”

  “You mean Harmony?”

  Sometimes her reputation preceded her. This guy had her pegged before she flashed him her credentials.

  “Yes.”

  “You jealous or something?”

  “Not jealous. Concerned.”

  He opened his hands. “Now how am I supposed to know that?”

  “She and I are like sisters. We always keep in touch.”

  “Not in this case,” he said.

  “I’m not concerned with whose boat she got on,” Tess said. “I already know which one.”

  “Then what are you asking?”

  “I need to know if anyone else besides her and the owner got on the boat.”

  The man visibly stiffened. “Is something going on?”

  That was the money question. “I’m not sure.”

  “Will the police be coming by asking the same questions?”

  She couldn’t lie. “Probably.”

  “Then I need to wait for them.”

  Tess never put herself in a position of weakness. Meaning, she always did her homework. This guy, this Jack Rube, underestimated her. Most men did.

  She pulled her phone out. “I’ll be happy to call them.”

  He smiled, a big stupid grin, as if he were trying to call her bluff.

  “They’ll want to see the footage from the cameras.”

  “Like you said,” he replied.

  “All of the cameras.”

  His grin was still there, but it began to wane.

  It was Tess’s time to smile. “I’m talking all the footage from the last month.”

  Not only did his grin fade away, but an uncomfortable smirk replaced it.

  “Now if I were managing this place and knew some characters were running bricks of pot through here and the police had me on video with them, I might get nervous.”

  Jack Rube finally broke his own silence. “You�
��re playing a dangerous game, you know?”

  “What I know,” Tess said, “is that my friends and I are several steps ahead of the police. I know that because I’m here and they aren’t. Yet.”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave.” His suntanned face had grown a few shades darker.

  “The smart play here, because I’m guessing the footage is all on file with a backup in the Cloud, is to let me see it.”

  “I don’t see how that’s in my best interest,” he said.

  Because you don’t have a lot of vision, she thought. “Because you aren’t looking at the big picture.”

  “Which is?” He had a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  “If we find Harmony before the detectives on the case figure out about your camera system, they may not even come by.”

  “So,” he said, almost thinking to himself, “I’d be helping you find her? And the mayor?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “His boat didn’t return, did it?”

  Jack Rube looked toward a row of slips and said, “No, it didn’t.” He scratched his two-day-old whiskers that were as white as his hair.

  She could picture him wanting to spark up a bong “to help him think this through.”

  After what seemed like more than fifteen seconds, he said, “Okay. I’ll let you see them.”

  She handed him a jump drive from her purse. “Can you put it on this?”

  “How much do you want?”

  “Last twenty-four hours.”

  “You’re crazy. And you got a death wish. If you know so much then you know the others on the film won’t want anyone seeing them, much less the press.”

  “It’s me or the cops, Jack. Time to fish or cut bait.”

  He took the jump drive, rolled it between his fingers. “How about this and dinner?”

  “How about the files and you won’t see me again?”

  The grin was back. “Fair enough. But the deal is no one knows what you got or who you got it from.”

  “Agreed.”

  After thirty minutes of Jack simultaneously copying files and gaping at her legs and breasts, she was out of there.

  What a slime ball. But, he actually bought her story. Of course, if he ever got wise, he might let his drug dealer friends know she had them on film. It would most likely mean his own death sentence, but he didn’t seem bright to begin with.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thursday, eleven a.m.

  Rod Stewart’s “If You Think I’m Sexy” blared on an old radio in the corner of the rundown vape store when Crome entered. He’d run through the vape juice he had with him in the saddle bags of his bike and the ones he’d stashed, in case of emergency, in his beach rental and needed more—a lot more.

  The woman behind the counter had a short and round shape with tattoos recently added to pale, white skin. What she needed, and Crome knew he was too far gone because he was wasting brain cells thinking about this seriously, was an hour walk each day in the sunshine.

  She handed him his nicotine and a new flavor, caramel. It was Maureen’s favorite. He paid and left the store, now thinking he was glad he hadn’t relapsed and stopped at the corner for a bag of reds. Speed certainly tuned him up and sharpened his edge into a lethal blade. Part of him was busy trying to convince the other part that he could use the bump.

  The rest of him still remembered the weekend he went cold turkey—a living hell that lasted a month. Plus, he liked stockpiling money these days. At his peak of drug use, the red habit ate up five hundred a week. That was ten years ago. God only knew how much the stuff cost now.

  When he’d quit, one of his dealers had made the mistake of coming around trying to get him to relapse. Crome taught the man a lesson, and the dealer, his name was Fred, had walked around with a cast on his arm for six weeks. Everyone in the life had known what happened, and no other dealers approached him after that.

  His cell phone buzzed as he mounted his bike. He looked at the display, saw Tess’s number and answered.

  “Yo.”

  She said, “You up for watching some home movies?”

  “Of you?”

  “The marina.”

  The power of a beautiful woman. He and Blu would have had to break in and steal the footage. Tess just walked in and asked for it. The wonders never ceased.

  He said, “Your place or mine?”

  “Yours,” she said. “That way I can leave if you irritate me.”

  “Fair enough. You want me to stop and pick up Chinese?”

  Chinese? Jesus, he really had to get his head screwed back on straight. Right after he took another hit from his jacked-up vaporizer.

  He did.

  Much better.

  “Actually,” she said, “that would be great. See you in about half an hour.”

  Forty minutes later, after he’d stopped and purchased two bags full of stir-fry, wonton soup, and egg rolls and had them sitting on his kitchen counter, Tess walked in. She had a tote bag slung over a shoulder exposed thanks to the tank top she wore and carried a six pack of Coke Zero.

  “Kinda defeats the purpose, don’t you think?” he asked.

  She set her purse and the drinks on his recently wiped off kitchen table. “What does?”

  He watched her slide the backpack off. “The whole diet drink thing.” Pointing at the food, he said, “There’s about a million calories right there and only two of us.”

  “I’ve got a date with my personal trainer in four hours,” she said. “That should burn off most of lunch. What’re you gonna do?”

  He put his hands behind his head and kicked back. “Oh, I don’t know. Take a run down the beach later.”

  “Yeah, right. I remember you saying you never ran.”

  “Especially if someone was chasing me.”

  “Ha.”

  She set the backpack and purse on his table and opened the fridge. “I was expecting your refrigerator to need a good cleaning. But it looks like all you put in here is beer.”

  “What else do I need?”

  She pulled a Coke off the six pack, set the rest of them on a shelf and shut the fridge door. “Oh, I don’t know. How about food?”

  “Don’t cook.”

  It looked like she was going to say something else and then stopped herself. Probably, he thought, a wise move.

  Twisting the top of her bottle of Coke, she said, “I’ll get the computer connected to your TV. Why don’t you get the food out? You got plates?”

  Crome pulled a package of Styrofoam plates and bowls from a second bag and set them on the table.

  “Good enough.” She gave him a smile and went on taking wires and electronic devices out of her backpack.

  While she did that, he took out the containers, opened them up, and stuck plastic forks in the food. He then put the packs of soy sauce, hot mustard, and duck sauce in a pile.

  “You want me to fix you a plate?” he asked.

  She was in the middle of connecting some wires to the jacks in the TV and turned her head to look at him.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of this. She looked great, like always. Those librarian glasses on her nose.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Um,” she said, “sure.” She turned back to her work.

  He poured soup in the bowls, put an egg roll on each plate, added brown rice and topped the rice off with three small piles of the dishes he’d purchased. The plates had equal amounts of food. He didn’t eat often, but when he did, he ate a lot.

  Carrying the full plates first, he set them on the coffee table in front of the couch that faced the TV. On the second trip, he had the soup and utensils. A third was needed for the condiments and his own Coke.

  She completed all the connections about the same time he’d finished getting the meal ready. Everything she’d done wi
th the wires was like a foreign language to him.

  “Where’s the TV remote?” she asked.

  He got up, found it stuck between the cushions of the couch, and handed it to her. Not big on TV, the last time he remembered turning it on was to watch the national dirt bike championship. That was a few weeks ago, well before Maureen got taken.

  Tess pushed some buttons and a source menu came up on the screen. She selected an input and then her laptop display also showed up on his TV. She went back to her laptop, moved the mouse and got something running. The display on both monitors changed to a scene on the water. The downtown marina on the Ashley River. He recognized it because he’d been there the night before—wooden decking with rows and rows of slips for different size boats.

  He dipped his egg roll in a puddle of mustard and crunched down on it.

  She sat beside him, picked up the bowl, held it close to her mouth, and spooned some soup. “I loaded it from a couple hours before the last time I spoke with Harmony.”

  Sitting next to him, the two of them alone in his house, he realized how much of a dirt bag he’d been to both her and Harmony and Blu and Patricia. Of course he’d never admit it aloud.

  Her spoon in mid-flight to her mouth, she paused. “What?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re looking at me, but not like you’re checking me out like you usually do.”

  “Huh?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say and didn’t want to spout out the truth.

  “Never mind.” She slurped her soup in the most ladylike manner he’d ever seen.

  She said, “There it is again.”

  “Are we gonna watch the video or not?” he asked, now a little uncomfortable. First Harmony chewed him out, now Tess was reading his mind. He really needed to get away again. Maybe after this was over, after he killed whoever had Maureen, he’d leave town. Get back down to the degenerate side of Key West. Drown in margaritas and señoritas for a few months, try and forget everything.

  “There he is,” she said.

  Crome kicked out of introspection and focused on the TV. The image had gone from dusk to dark and the lights perched over the slips illuminated the dock. A man walked down the wood planks toward a small yacht. It took a few moments for Crome to recognize him.