Daiquiri Dock Murder (30 page)

“That’s really looking into a cloudy future.”

“I can countermand everything anyone else says, Rafa. Believe me. It’s true. Right now Key West voters are in a building mood. They want to see Key West grow because they know that’s the only way their incomes will grow. They want more cruise ships to visit our harbor. They want more tee shirt shops on Duval. They want more hotel rooms for an influx of tourists. I may have been a beach bum in the past, but I’m proud now to be able to be a part of the New Key West.”

“I can’t believe Key West’s that full of Bubba politics.”

“Sometimes Bubba politics are the best kind for everyone concerned. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch your back.”

“The thought of you scratching my back makes me want to puke.” I choked on the bitterness at the base of my tongue and tried to swallow the tightness in my throat.

“Go ahead and puke—if you want that to be one of the few things you’ll get to do before you join Dad and Threnody.”

“You can’t get away with this, Pablo. Everyone at The Frangi knows I planned to spend the night with Threnody. When they come here looking for me, they can see for themselves what has happened.”

We had reached the back porch and my chances of escaping diminished. I had decided to make a run for it—a run for escape. I’d rather be a dead fugitive than Pablo’s dead captive. In a sudden move, I yanked my arm free from Pablo’s grip and turned to give him a shove. I hoped to throw him off balance. I knew he could outrun me in a foot race unless I had a head start.

In that instant a shot rang out and Pablo dropped to the ground. I thought for an instant that I’d been hit. But no.

Who? What? Maybe Kane had sensed my need for help and come to investigate.

I ran. If Kane hadn’t shot Pablo, I had some other enemy. Or had Pablo been my dead-line caller? Had I tripped over his foot last night at The Frangi? I couldn’t remember where Pablo had been at the time I fell.

I could only concentrate on escaping. That bit of concentration wasn’t enough. All hope dropped to my toes when I heard Brick’s voice and felt him grab the arm I’d just freed from Pablo’s grip.

“We meet again, Rafa.”

Seeing my fishing rod leaning against the porch railing, I decided to make one last try for freedom before Brick had time to make a full assessment of our positions. I jerked my arm from his, at the same time placing one foot behind his ankles and giving him a strong shove backward. He lost his balance and I heard him fall and flounder on the ground behind me.

In those moments, I grabbed my fishing rod and ran, putting as much distance between us as I could. The moment Brick regained his balance and came rushing toward me, I took aim and, with the weighted lure hanging from the tip of my rod, I cast it, aiming for his head. I heard the thud of lead connecting with flesh and bone, but he didn’t go down. Panicked, I ran again. Again, he caught me, pulled me close, and twisted my arm. The smell of rum on his breath turned my stomach.

“You make me sick, Brick Vexton. Sick. Sick. Sick.” I tried to loosen his grip. No way.

“Oh come now, Rafa.” He laughed. “You’ve forgotten the times I made you happy. Very, very happy.”

I couldn’t be sure if his eyes looked glazed or if the moonlight glinted on them in a way that gave them a glazed appearance.

“You’re a fool, Brick. Kane’s right about you. You have an eye for the ladies. But I’ve never been one of your ladies. You may have noticed I’ve made it a point to keep plenty of distance between us.”

Brick laughed. My voice snagged in my throat. I could think of no more insults. Some guys don’t know an insult when they hear one. Once more I jerked my arm free and began to run toward the street again. In two strides Brick caught up with me, yanking me to his side and bending my thumb back until I thought he’d break it. With his other hand, he pulled a pistol from the slash pocket of his jumpsuit. I felt doomed when he locked his arm more tightly through mine and dragged me toward my car.

“Keep moving forward.” Brick punctuated his words with a nudge of the gun.

I moved forward.

Chapter 38

If fear and excitement gives one an empowering adrenalin rush, I failed to feel it. I hardly possessed the strength to put one foot ahead of the other. Moving forward or backward wouldn’t have made any difference.

“Where are we going?” I asked, hardly expecting an answer.

“Thought we’d take a little drive, Rafa. You’re so fond of the Prius, I thought I’d give you the pleasure of one final ride in it. So prepare yourself to enjoy.”

His speech sounded slurred as he nudged me toward my car. Again I smelled rum on his breath. How many daiquiris had he downed tonight? I wondered how he would manage taking me for a ride I didn’t want to go on. It turned out to be easy enough. He had it all planned. He opened the front passenger door and nudged me onto the seat.

“Hold out your hands, Rafa.”

The temptation to refuse and to look over the seat at Threnody’s body flashed through my mind. What if someone had discovered her while Pablo and I were playing chase-around-the-house for those few minutes? No such luck. Brick must have been the one who found her body.

One last hope. No. No Kane. No tell-tale noise from a cop hiding behind us. I stopped hoping for a miracle. I didn’t look over the car seat. I did hold out my hands. Surely he planned to detain me with handcuffs.

Brick hesitated a bit when I thrust my wrists toward him, and I tried to plan how I could escape when he laid his gun aside in order to fasten the cuffs. But he didn’t lay the gun aside. While taking careful aim at me with the gun in his right hand, he reached into another pocket of his dock master uniform with his left hand. I heard the clink of steel against steel when he pulled out the handcuffs.

“Where did you get those?” I asked, hoping the cuffs were toys. No. They were for real.

“Found them in my bag of magic tricks, doll.” He clicked one bracelet around my right wrist. “Okay now. Arms behind your back. Don’t try any tricks. Lean toward the dashboard and do as I say.”

I leaned forward and felt cold steel scrape my skin moments before I heard the other bracelet snap around my left wrist. I refused to give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy. I knew by now neither he nor Pablo knew the meaning of the word mercy. I said nothing. Maybe I could kick him while he drove us to his secret destination. But he squelched those plans in the next moment.

“Okay, Rafa. Feet together. Ankles touching, please.”

I followed instructions. It didn’t surprise me when he pulled a coil of blue line from the same pocket that moments ago held handcuffs. He bound my ankles together. Then he smashed me back against the car seat and fastened my seatbelt. Was he kidding! Why the sudden interest in my safety?

“Mustn’t give the cops reason to pull us over, Rafa. Little traffic moving at this hour of the night. Bored policemen stop any car that looks the least bit suspicious to them. I’ve heard they get a bonus for any arrests they make between midnight and sunrise, so I’m making sure this car won’t catch any cop’s eye.” He straightened himself behind the steering wheel, pausing a moment to wipe sweat from his forehead with his left arm before he fastened his own seat belt. Breathing deeply for a few seconds, he wiped his forehead again before he hit the accelerator and we shot forward. Had my fishing lure hurt him, or had he enjoyed too many daiquiris?

“Where we going?” I tried to get back into my keep-him-talking mode, but having my hands and feet immobilized slowed my thought processes. So did having two captors in the same evening. I decided to say no more and wait to see what happened next. Maybe my silence would unnerve him, make him wonder what I was thinking—and planning.

He scooped the loop around Duval Street and Whitehead. We passed Southernmost point. The presidential gate. Sloppy Joe’s. Margaritaville. When a street light shone directly on his face, I thought again that his eyes looked glazed and glassy.

“Got a headache? That fishing lure gave you quite a whack.”

“Hardly felt it, Rafa. Hardly f-felt it.”

It pleased me to know I had hurt him—at least a little. Wish it had been a little more. Closed signs hung in the windows of the bars we passed. Sloppy’s. Margaritaville. Schooner Reef. Hog’s Breath. I guessed it might be about time for the early-morning garbage and trash trucks to take to the streets. Maybe I could signal someone. Those commercial truck seats rose above the seats of most cars. Maybe some truck driver would happen to look down into the Prius and see Threnody sprawled on the back seat or notice me mouthing the word ‘help.’

I saw nobody out and about. Soon Brick chose a route that made our destination clear—Daiquiri Dock.

“I gave my dock masters the morning off for today, Rafa. Need a little t-time and working s-space to get a few chores done. The police will arrive soon after that, and I want to practice my surprised look as I lead them to Threnody’s body. Surprised and horrified, of course.”

“The husband’s always the first suspect. You should know that.”

“Of course. I’ve prepared for that. This time you’re going to be the chief suspect.”

“Don’t know how you’ll manage that.” I hoped that comment would make him want to explain. Once I knew his plans, maybe I could figure out a way to escape and thwart them.

Brick made no explanations. He pulled his cell phone from the shirt pocket of his jumpsuit as if he might make a call. Then he dropped it back into his pocket. Too early to talk to anyone? I wondered who he wanted to call.

Chapter 39

I’d never patronized any marina in the wee hours of the morning, but I expected to see a few security lights here and there. In fact, I expected to see several lights illuminating each catwalk, lights that kept the moored boats visible at all times. Tonight only the moon brightened the night, and as we approached the chandlery, clouds threaded across the sky and the moon. Dark. Light. Dark. Light. The frequent changes in visibility left me dizzy and off balance even though I sat securely fastened under the seatbelt.

My car was the only one approaching the parking lot. At first I took that as a hopeful sign. Maybe some cop patrolling his beat would notice the Prius and stop to investigate. It surprised me when Brick drove around the chandlery building and headed into a mangrove thicket. I heard branches in the dense grove of trees scrape against the sides of the car. I could hardly breathe, but I gasped for air and tried to distract him.

“Brick! Stop! I’ll need to have my car repainted.”

“Someone will, but I doubt if it’ll be you. In a few minutes you won’t be worrying about paint or the Prius—or—anything else. When the police find this car, they’ll wonder how it got here. But finding it won’t happen any time soon. I doubt the cops know this thicket behind the chandlery exists. I’m guessing they’ve never investigated it or, if they’re aware of it, even wondered about what it might hide.”

“Of course they’ll find my car. They’re not stupid.”

When Brick laughed, a flash of moonglow coming through the sunroof revealed a thread of drool seeping from his mouth and running onto his chin. He continued talking as if he didn’t feel the wetness. “This is the area where people will see a new hotel in the near future.”

“You can’t build anything back here.”

“Why do you say that? Wishful thinking?”

Keep him talking. Keep him talking. “You can’t build a hotel or anything else here because it’s against the law to destroy indigenous plants—like all of these mangrove trees. Mangroves are native to the Keys. They’ve been here forever. Mother’s chairperson of the Preserve the Trees committee. That’s a group of locals, men and women, who work on behalf of Key West’s native palms and mangroves. Anyone abusing a tree faces a heavy fine and lots of negative publicity in the media. You might as well forget about building your fancy hotel at this location.”

My mouth and throat felt so dry I didn’t think I could say another word. I swallowed three times, trying to bring moisture to my mouth, my tongue.

“Laws can be changed.” Brick spoke in a taunting tone. “Laws can be circumvented. I’ll find loopholes in the building code that’ll allow me to build here. What good is a bunch of ugly mangrove trees? No good at all. They’ll come down. New hotel will go up. And Key West and the Vextons will be richer for the addition.”

Brick gunned the car forward then back a few times, forcing the steering wheel to the right and then to the left, trying to create enough space to open the car doors. Branches scraped and scratched against the car every time he moved it. I closed my eyes and cringed. I gritted my teeth and said nothing. I hoped we were trapped here. Maybe he couldn’t force a space big enough to allow the doors to open.

Forward. Back. Forward. Back. He continued jogging the car inch by inch until he managed to force the driver’s door open a crack wide enough for him to slip through it. Then he poked his head and shoulders back inside.

“Lean forward, Rafa.”

“I can’t lean forward. The seatbelt—it’s too tight.”

He fumbled with the catch on the seatbelt until it loosened and dropped to the car seat.

“Lean forward. Do it now. Lean!”

I leaned forward and he released the handcuffs. At first I thought I’d be able to whack him, but the pressure from the cuffs and the seatbelt left my hands numb. They throbbed when the blood began to circulate through my wrists to my hands again. I clenched and unclenched my fingers, trying to make fists. Before the pain left, he jerked my left arm toward him. Was he going to break my elbow? I squinted and gritted my teeth in anticipation of more pain. Surprise. He replaced and locked one handcuff around my wrist and locked the other cuff to the steering wheel.