Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (22 page)

“Hi,” I called, waving to him. He approached the railing. “My car broke down right near the top of your driveway and I came down looking for a phone.” I held up my cell phone which I’d turned off. “Mine’s dead.” I laughed. “If I had known what a far walk it was, I woulda just waited for someone to drive by.”

It was hard to read his expression, the sun was behind him and I raised my free hand to block it, but the man’s face remained in shadow. “I’ll call a tow,” the man said. “Return to your car.”

He began to turn when I called out, “Do you think I could have a glass of water? It’s awfully hot out here.”

The man looked down at me. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be right down.”

I made my way toward the door in the side wall. Soon after,  it opened and he waved for me to enter. “Thanks so much,” I said. “You know, I wanted to see the Everglades but I didn’t know how hot they would be.” I turned around looking at the small waiting room we’d entered. A couple of chairs against one wall, an empty reception desk in front of a door that led deeper into the building. There was a key card swiper at just above waist height. The man pointed to a water cooler. I took a paper cup off the top and filled it. “Thanks again,” I said before gulping down the water. “What is this place?” I asked, looking around, hoping I looked innocently confused. “At least it’s nice and cool,” I said referring to the air conditioning that kept the room at what felt like near freezing after the heat of my walk.

The man frowned. He looked to be in his late forties, dark hair, skin lined and tan from hours in the sun and wind. He was a couple of inches taller than me and broader. I could tell by the way he carried himself that he knew how to fight, nobody just naturally has that much balance. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, eyeing me. I turned and refilled my cup, sipping it slowly, trying to look like I didn’t know how to fight. “You’ve had your water,” he said and opened the door for me. The sun poured in. I felt it’s heat.

“Right, sorry to keep you,” I said, and walked out with the cup still in my hand.

“The tow truck will meet you at your car.”

“Any chance you could give me a ride?” I asked, wiping sweat off my forehead. “It is really hot.” He looked at me and then down at Blue. “Do you have a dog?” I asked.

The man nodded.

“It’s hot for him, too,” I said. “With that fur coat, in this weather.”

Blue sat by my side, his tongue lolling out of his head, bouncing with each pant. I leaned over and gave him the water in my cup. He lapped at it and then looked up at the man in front of us with his best puppy dog stare.

“I can’t right now,” the man said. He looked toward the Everglades and I heard the whine of an airboat not far off.

“Do you do tours here?” I asked. “In airboats? I’ve seen the signs along the way.”

The man didn’t smile. “No,” he said, and then closed the door on me.

Blue and I hiked back down the drive and when we got there, I found Sanjit’s son waiting with a tow truck.

“Hey,” I said.

“Oh, hi, how are you?” he asked. “Car trouble?”

“Not really,” I answered and leaned against his truck. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

Sanjit’s son wiped his brow with a well-worn bandana. “Yeah.” He slapped at a mosquito that buzzed around us but missed. “Didn’t you call for a tow?”

“Do you know what they do down there?” I asked him.

“Not sure. I’ve seen them out on their airboats. Research or something, collecting samples, right?” he asked.

I hadn’t seen any airboats but I’d noticed the docks in the front of the building. “Samples of what?” I asked.

The boy shrugged again. “Plants and stuff. I don’t know? Do you need a tow?” he asked again.

“No, I’m fine. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone asks, you gave me a tow, fixed my car and sent me on my way.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“With what?”

“Your car.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Make something up.”

A smile crept onto his face. “Is this detective work?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Is there a reward?”

“Definitely. Here,” I pulled out a pen and paper from my glove compartment and wrote my cell number on it. “Text me if anyone calls asking about me. Also,” I wrote down the Volvo’s license plate and color. “Let me know if this car goes by you. Or if a hunter green Jag comes this way.” I wrote that down on the paper, too. He took it from me. “Remember if anyone asks about me, tell them you sent me on my way. And don’t tell them I’m a detective.”

“You’re undercover?” he whispered.

“Something like that,” I answered.

“When do I get the reward?”

“Here,” I pulled out two hundred dollar bills. “Consider this a down payment.”

The boy grinned and jumped into his truck. I watched him pull out and head east.

#

D
riving back toward Miami, I passed the casino and entered into the world where there were things besides gator bites, information, and gas to buy. I pulled into a large and full Walmart parking lot, stopping in the shade of a cart return center. Climbing out of the car, I motioned for Blue to join me. Looking across the rooftop of the cars, row after row of them, reflecting the sunlight back in shiny, painful spots of light, I squinted at the mother of all big box stores.

What a perfect name for those behemoths of American retailing. No need for imagination. Blue and I headed toward one of the entrances. The glass doors slid open and a whoosh of cool air came at us. We walked into a fluorescent-lit giant of a room. I stood for a moment on the threshold looking into the space. Gray walls, a ceiling so high that the designer could safely expose the ducts, wires and other innards, confident that no one would ever look up. A woman with dyed brown hair set in curls wearing a Walmart badge and a smile approached me.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a smile that exposed a smear of red lipstick marring her front tooth, “we don’t allow pets.”

I smiled back at her and leaned in, creating an intimate space between the two of us in that big space. “You’ve got a little lipstick on your tooth,” I said and pointed to my own front tooth.

She blushed and raised her lip, rubbing at the tooth with her index finger, the nail painted as red as her lips. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I wonder how many people noticed and didn’t say anything?” Her blush deepened.

I smiled at her. “It’s a nice shade.”

She smiled broadly, “Thank you.”

Blue and I began to pass her and she followed us. “Oh, but, we don’t allow pets.”

I turned back to her. “He’s a service dog. I have seizures.”

The color from her earlier embarrassment drained from her face. “Oh,” was all she said.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “He will keep me safe.” She nodded looking down at Blue. “Can you tell me where I’d find exercise clothing?”

She directed me to aisle 7b. First, I passed the prepared food area, a hint of fry in the air. Deeper into the box, I walked through the produce section and turned left at the potatoes. Aisle after aisle opened on either side of us as Blue and I walked down a corridor so long that I felt as if I was in a cartoon, where the distance never closes between Bugs Bunny and his destination.

The aisles opened up in the center and clothing was hung on racks that spread across an area which, if you came upon it in the forest, would seem like a magically large meadow. We wandered between the racks, passed synthetic suits and lacy frilled shorts to where the workout clothing hung. I found a pair of black leggings meant for jogging and was looking for clothing in my size, the metal hangers clicking against each other as I pushed them aside, when I glanced up and saw an aisle lined with camouflage gear.

Taking the leggings with me, I headed toward it. As I approached I could see a woman about twenty yards down the aisle, standing behind a waist high counter. She had gray hair, big owl glasses and a friendly smile. Behind her, hung on the walls in metal brackets, were guns. Long rifles and shot guns. Inside the case, lined up in neat shiny rows, were knives. I laid my hand on the glass, staring down at them. “Can I help you?” she asked.

I looked up at her and smiled. “Yes.”

#

A
fter my shopping trip I drove back to a public launch I’d spotted down the road from the research center. I pulled off to the side so the car wasn’t visible to passing traffic and out of the way of the boat launch.

Rolling down the windows, I turned off the car but it was like sitting in a metal box broiling in the sun. Putting the windows back up, I blasted the air. There seemed something almost disingenuous about sitting in the Audi, its navigation screen glowing, the wood paneling gleaming, and the leather, tawny and soft. I felt like an alien in my spaceship.

Why was I sitting here? Because of an instinct. Something in my gut that said something was going on there that was important. Hugh’s freedom, the evidence necessary to reveal the true nature of this crime, was in that building. However, as the first hour passed into the second and I kept my phone turned off to avoid any calls or questions, I began to see that I was here because I needed this to end. I had to get Hugh clear before I blew up my life again.

As the sun set it sliced through the grasses with blades of bright orange. A pick-up truck pulled in. There were two guys in the truck and they were hauling an airboat. When they saw me, both of them frowned.

I waved to the men with a friendly smile and climbed out of the car, walking around the front. “Hi,” I said.

The men nodded at me as they got out of the truck which they’d positioned so that the trailer holding the airboat’s tires stopped just at the water line.

The man on the far side of the airboat spit on the ground, then moved his wad of chewing tobacco into his other cheek, looking at me over the cab of the truck. He wore a baseball cap low over his eyes. A brown ponytail, tangled and dull, came out the back.

The man standing nearer smiled at me. He wore a button-down shirt that strained against his bulging belly and a pair of cargo shorts. Gray hair puffed out from under a trucker cap that featured a bass on its brim. “The Everglades are a dangerous place. You should head back home.”

“You guys are going out?” I asked.

He nodded. “Fishing.”

The one with the chewing tobacco shook his head. “Come on, Carl,” he said. “Let’s go.”

I put my hands up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.”

Carl turned to his friend and began to help him unstrap the airboat. It had a shallow draft, no more than a couple of inches. The bottom looked like stainless steel. The giant fan reminded me of hospitals in third world countries. Places where the air was so heavy you need a big ass fan to move it.

Carl jumped up and into the driver’s seat, then his friend unlatched the last strap. The boat slipped quickly into the canal, its nose dipping under the water for a moment before resurfacing and bobbing gently. I leaned against my car hood; it was still hot from the day but the air was beginning to cool. A breeze blew through the grass from the west.

The other man climbed into the pickup truck, it was silver and shiny and looked brand new. In contrast, the airboat had red, cracked, pleather seats and a dinged up frame, rust and dirt coloring the fan a matte gray-brown. The tobacco-chewer pulled the truck up next to me, cut the engine and climbed out. He locked the vehicle with a beep and then walked to the shore where Carl started up the fan.

The fan chopped through the air slowly and the edge of the rectangular boat knocked gently against the cement of the launch. The truck driver turned back to look at me, then spit a wad of dark brown gunk onto the ground, just above the water line. “Be careful,” he said in a gruff voice, then turned and stepped lightly onto the boat. As he took his seat next to Carl the fan picked up energy, cutting through the air so quickly I couldn’t see the blade inside the cage, just a whirl of black, like a spinning disk. A roar accompanied the movement and the airboat shot away from the shore leaving a foaming wake behind it. They disappeared into the canals long before the sound of their fan engine faded.

When I got back into the car I checked my phone. The green Jaguar had arrived on the scene, the Volvo hadn’t left. It appeared the whole gang would be there.

T
he croaking of the frogs started when the last liquid golden rays of sunlight blinked at the horizon and the sky softened into the dusty pink and blues of dusk. Pulling out the Walmart bags from the trunk, I rifled through them. I slipped the long, tight, black leggings on under my dress. Then, turning to face the grasses, I pulled my dress over my head and shrugged into the camouflage shirt, bringing the hood over my head, covering my hair and forehead. I kicked off my flats and put on black sneakers over a pair of black socks. Using the electric tape I covered the splashes of reflective material on the sneakers.

Clipping the utility belt around my waist, I secured a Jimmy Bar (the car breaking-into device favored by juvenile delinquents, at least when I was one) to my left hip. The gun Bobby had loaned me went into my new shoulder holster and I swung it around my back, looping my arms through. I pulled out my new knife, curved with a serrated tip and a camouflage handle. It came with a sheath that attached to the other side of my belt. The travel-size roll of duct tape fit into one of the belt’s pockets. Lastly, I ripped open a package of cotton balls and pushed two into the crest of my breasts.

The night was growing darker and the single light above the launch flickered on, throwing long shadows. I tapped my thigh and Blue got into position. I checked the road and, seeing it empty, crossed. We were fully exposed as we walked over the short and narrow bridge toward the power towers. The white columns were lit up, and, by far, the largest, brightest thing for miles. But there was no one there to see us. Quickly we got onto the dirt road running parallel with the canal and highway.

We ran at a steady pace. Our footfalls on the dirt surface were not nearly as loud as the nocturnal creatures who remained invisible, hidden away in the grasses and trees. I knew the entrance to the facility was east of the next power station, so crossed back over onto the road there. It was still about another half mile and Blue and I ran quickly. I heard a car coming up behind us and, turning, saw two bright headlights closing in. I turned my head forward and raised my arms, palms flat, blocking my face as the car passed. Its red taillights were still visible in the distance when I got to the beginning of the research facility’s driveway.