Dangerous Times (32 page)

In the pilothouse of Julia Gavin’s, Kirk was
at the wheel holding at an idle near the bow of the yacht. Hicks
set a satchel down on the teak floor and sat with it. “Gotta see if
they pulled a switch.” He unzipped it and gazed at the
clear-wrapped stacks of hundreds.

Kirk looked at the money and said, “Decide
yet where you and Ty’ll be going?”

Hicks sat back on the floor. “Oh, man,” he
sighed. “I’m gonna take some’a my half an’ give it to the best
gun-slingin’ lawyer I can find. Beat the charges an’ retire.”

Hicks got up. “Lose my pension in the
bargain,” he shrugged, “who cares.” Then asked, “What’re you gonna
do with your half?”

“Adam Forstadt, the marine I told you
about?”

“Yeah…”

“First thing, go to Ohio. Wear my uniform
and see his relatives.” Kirk eyed the open satchel. “Give his
family some of it. Tell them after all these years the Pentagon
found an error in what they call the bereavement payment.” He
raised his eyes to Hicks. “Not that money could ever replace…”

“Yeah, right,” Hicks sulked, thinking of his
buried son. Then said, “Already decided to give some’a mine to Earl
Sinclair’s parents.” He zipped the satchel closed. “Damn,” he
sighed, “first time I remembered the kid’s whole name.” Never to
forget it again, he thought.

“Wouldn’t they get a lot of money from the
law suit?” Kirk asked.

“Civil suit,” Hicks grunted. “With
Sinclair’s criminal record, jury would say good-riddance to the
kid.” Then said, “Even if they did win, take years for the city to
give up the cash.”

“Figures,” Kirk said. The cruiser rocking at
an idle he checked the instruments.

The music blared from the yacht as Hicks
went out to the stern. He saw Eddie’s speedboats rising alongside
the hull of the ship, and he saw Da Shan’s giant figure on deck,
closing the guard rail at the top of the Jacob’s ladder.

The music ended abruptly, followed by a
clank that startled Hicks. It was the tightening of the anchor
chain, and he watched the links start up through the bow’s
chock.

Hicks cupped his hands to his mouth and
hollered up toward Da Shan. “Goodbye, sucker! See ya next year, if
ya don’t fall overboard an’ drown at sea!”

Kirk pushed the throttle handle and the
cruiser jolted forward. Hicks was thrown off balance and almost
went overboard. With an ironic laugh of relief he returned to the
pilothouse. He gazed down at the satchel and said, “Party favors
from the best party I ever been to.”

Kirk turned from the wheel. “Music was
good,” he said.

Hicks looked at him with tightened eyes.
“You’re kiddin’, right?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Kirk backed off. “You
don’t think so?”

“Ever hear Coleman Hawkins play; ever hear
Louis Jordon sing?”

“No, not that I can remember.”

“M’m!” Hicks sounded. Then said, “We got a
lotta schoolin’ for you to do.”

Chapter
105

The full moon rose high over the hills of
Rancho Palos Verdes. Where Bob Staub lay dead in the shallow grave
under Beverly’s rug.

“A rug,” Valerie said to the others. “We can
put it on the hillside, sit on it and watch the boat lights.”

Alfredo handed the flashlight to Maria,
crouched and took hold of the rug. “No bueno,” he said. “Wet from
the rain.”

Juan set his boom box down and crouched
alongside him. “C’mon, man,” he said, “maybe we find buried
treasure.” He and Alfredo dragged the water-logged rug off the open
grave.

Maria dropped the flashlight. “Another one!”
she cried out.

The two couples stared down at the moonlit
body, the face like a clump of hardened wax.

“Nurse Valerie,” Alfredo said hesitantly,
“this one dead?”

Valerie edged her way closer. She started to
bend, then stopped and straightened with a grimace. “For sure, this
one’s dead.”

“Look for cash?” Juan smiled.

“No!” the others answered at the same
time.

“We leave—now!” Maria demanded.

“Our private place,” Valerie said unhappily.
“We can’t ever come back…”

Chapter
106

Kirk at the wheel, the cabin cruiser neared
the San Pedro coast. Alongside him Hicks faced the other way,
backside against the edge of the instrument panel.

“Gotta come up with a plan,” Hicks thought
aloud. He gazed into the sternward shadows. “Blow Eddie-the-sucker
outta the water. Yeah, three of us…”

“Three?” Kirk asked.

“Detective friend,” Hicks told him. “Sure
‘nough bet he’d like to join the posse.”

“Hope so,” Kirk said. “Need all the help we
can get.”

Hicks held his eyes sternward and returned
to thinking about how to bring Eddie down.

The beam of the Angels Gate Lighthouse
brightened the pilothouse. It swung away and Hicks saw the shadows
take on a reddish glow.

“Terminal Island,” Kirk said. “The
refinery’s on fire!”

-End-