Scorpion (17 page)

“
Shit.” He felt dumber than a roadkilled skunk.

“
Why?” she asked.

“
I paid the cab driver with green money.”

“
He must have been very pleased,” she said.

“
He was smiling,” Earl laughed. Then he added, “Name’s Earl Lawson.”

“
Dani, Dani Street,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Are you staying here at the Hilton?”

“
Sure am.” Earl beamed, thinking he was making headway.

“
Then maybe we really will see each other again.” She smiled and took her hand back. He watched her shapely walk till she was out of the restaurant. When she was out the door he turned his attention back toward the pool, but Maria and her boyfriend were gone.

He spent another twenty minutes nursing three rum and cokes. Normally he was a scotch and soda man, but he was in the Caribbean and rum seemed to be the drink of choice. At first he didn’t like the sweet taste of the Coca Cola, but he found he was warming up to it.

“
Joo going for another?”

“
I’d sure like to, but then I’d follow it with another, then another, and you know how that goes.”

“
Sure do.”

“
So I guess I’d better pay and get on my way.”

“
Joo can sign for it, if you’re staying in the hotel.”

Five minutes later he opened the door and instantly grabbed for a gun that wasn’t there.

“
Stay calm, Earl, and stay alive,” Dani Street said. He relaxed his hand and let it fall to his side. She was sitting at the desk by the window. Her handbag was on it and a chrome plated thirty-eight police special was sitting next to the purse. She was still wearing her smile and by the tone of her voice he knew she could pick up the gun and use it before he got close to her.

“
What’s going on?” he said, trying to sound calm. His money was piled on the center of the bed, still wrapped in ten thousand dollar packets.

“
There’s more going on than you could possibly understand,” she said.

* * *

Dani looked at Earl’s strong jaw. His deeply tanned face looked like it belonged on a movie poster. He was a man used to the sun. His eyes bore into her, but he was restraining himself. She took in the cut above his eye and the bruise on his chin. He was no stranger to violence. He was going to be perfect, she just knew it. She wanted someone else to pull the trigger on this one. The job was too close to home.

“
Sit down, Sheriff.” He stared at the gun on the desk and she could see the calculations going on in his head. “Try it.”

“
I been around a long time. I know when to fish and when to cut bait. I’ll sit and see what you have to say.”

“
You’re not as dumb as you look, Earl,” Dani said.

“
It was my questions about the man with the shaved head, wasn’t it? You were watching him, too?”

“
In a way,” Dani said. “You were kind of clumsy.”

“
I got my way of doing things,” Earl said.

“
The money is counterfeit,” Dani said.

“
What?” Earl grabbed a bundle from the stack. He pulled a bill out and looked at it against the light. “Looks okay to me,” he said, but she saw his furrowed brow and his shaking fingers.

“
The serial numbers are all the same, Earl, and the paper is wrong. They have two dollar marking pens all over the world that will tell even the most unaware kid behind a register that you’re passing bad money. You might as well burn it.”

He peeled off another bill and compared them. “Shit,” he said.

“
But you have bigger problems,” Dani said.

“
I can’t wait to hear.”

“
The manager told me you were a big tipper, when he figures out you tipped him with funny money he’ll be up here and after your balls.”

“
Shit,” Earl said.

“
You’ll have to go down and make it right,” Dani said, opening her handbag. She pulled out a roll of hundreds and counted out twenty bills. “Here’s two thousand. When you buy back your bad money give the man an extra two hundred. That should satisfy him and it’ll leave you an extra thousand for walking around money.”

She got up and handed him the money. She left the gun next to the handbag on the desk.

“
You’re awful sure of yourself,” Earl said.

“
You’re not a stupid man, you’re curious,” Dani said.

“
I’m curious,” Earl said.

“
Stick with me and I’ll turn that pile of paper on the bed into the real thing. You can leave Trinidad a wealthy man.”

“
I’d like that,” Earl said, as Dani turned her back to him and moved back to the desk. “I’d like that a lot.”

“
I knew you would.” She dropped the gun into her purse.

“
Who do I have to kill?”

“
The Prime Minister of Trinidad.”

“
I could do that.”

Chapter Eleven

“
Good morning, sir,” Broxton said, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he smiled at the Indian Trinidadian behind the counter. “Do you sell breakfast here?” He was still half asleep. He’d been up most of the night talking and reminiscing with Warren.

“
We see a lot of Africans with shaved heads,” the Indian said, ignoring Broxton’s question, “but I’ve never seen a white man with one, only on TV. Looks good on you. Looks like you can fight, too. Plenty muscles.”

“
About breakfast?” Broxton said.

“
Do the girls like that head, or is it just you?” the Indian said. He had flashing white teeth flapping inside of withered gums and Broxton caught the laughing twinkle in his eyes. If he wanted breakfast he was going to have to play with the man.

“
I think the girls like it,” he said, running his right hand along the side of his scalp. “And it’s easy to keep up, I start shaving from the top and just keep going.” He put his hand back to his head, thumb and index finger together, like he was holding a razor, and brought it from the top of his chrome dome down along the side, where sideburns would be if he had any, over his cheek and down to his chin, imitating a man shaving. “And no barber bills either, very economical.”

“
I like you. I’m called Davidnen.” The Indian stuck his hand over the counter. Broxton shook it and Davidnen laughed. “Tough guy handshake, like a real American,” he said.

“
Do you always say whatever you want?” Broxton asked.

“
I’m ninety-six, almost a century old, a century,” he said, emphasizing his speech the way Trinidadians do. “I’m entitled, I’ve earned the right.”

“
Yes, sir, you have,” Broxton said, nodding. “Now about breakfast?”

“
Bakes is the best I can offer. Sort of like a pita bread sandwich. I can make you one with ham and eggs. No charge today, because you really didn’t come here to eat, but I might charge you for whatever it is you want to know.”

Broxton laughed again, but this time it was forced. “You’re pretty sharp.”

“
Not really. You don’t work over there,” he said, looking through the front window toward the American Embassy on the other side of the street, “and if you had business there you’d come later, after they’re open. You don’t look like you’re on vacation, and besides we’re off the tourist track. So what is it, are you some kind of spy looking for information?”

“
It’s not like you’re thinking,” Broxton said.

“
I’m hearing you good,” Davidnen said. “Keep talking.”

“
It’s about a woman.”

“
Ah,” the old man sighed, then twinkled, “which one?”

“
Dani Street.”

“
And why are you wanting to know about her?” the Indian asked, his eyes narrowing.

“
I came to Trinidad to marry her,” Broxton said.

“
I see, so it’s Kevin Underfield you’re wanting to know about?”

“
Yes, no, I don’t know. I was just going to sit here and watch her come to work, that’s all.” He was talking like a man wearing his heart on his sleeve and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

The Indian put a hand up and played with his mustache as he studied Broxton. After a moment he said, “You should have come sooner if that’s what you’re after.” And the room was quiet save for the sound of the Indian sucking on his upper lip as he tried to reach his mustache with his teeth.

“
There were problems,” Broxton said, continuing to confide in a man he didn’t know.

“
Yes, for sure, you married the wrong woman, Mr. Broxton.”

“
How do you know my name, and how do you know about me?” Broxton asked.

“
We talk, me and Dani. We’re good friends. She eats here every day, most of the other Americans from the Embassy don’t. They go to Rafter’s or one of the finer restaurants. I guess they don’t much like the local food.”

“
Is he a nice guy, this Kevin Underfield?”

“
Not so nice, I don’t think,” the Indian said.

“
What do you mean?”

“
I think I’ve said enough, but Dani says you work for the DEA, you’ll be able to figure it out.” He paused and ran his tongue over his mustache, like he was checking to see if it was still there, then said, “And as we speak of the devil, he arrives.”

Broxton turned back toward the window again in time to see Dani kiss Kevin Underfield firmly on the lips. Then she turned and walked into the Embassy and Underfield started off down the block. He was wearing a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, sweatpants and running shoes. He looked like a Nike commercial, with his poster boy good looks and strong athletic build.

“
I think I’ll go,” Broxton said, thinking that Dani must place a lot of trust in this old man. She even told him that he worked for the DEA.

“
That would be wise, and remember one thing.”

“
What’s that?”

“
I wasn’t telling you anything here. For myself I don’t care, but I have children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, them I care about. Trinidad is a small place.”

“
I wasn’t even here,” Broxton said, starting for the door.

“
And we never met.” The Indian winked.

Broxton closed the door behind himself and started off after Underfield. It was a cool morning, promising to be a hot day, and Kevin Underfield was walking at a brisk pace with the morning sun at his back. That was an advantage for Broxton. If Underfield looked behind he’d be staring into the light.

He half wondered why he was following the man. He also wondered why he showed up at the Embassy and hid in the small restaurant across the street. It didn’t seem right, snooping around after Dani. They’d been friends since they were children. If he wanted to know about her relationship with Kevin Underfield all he had to do was ask. But there was something about Underfield he didn’t like. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d stolen Dani’s heart, but maybe it was something more.

Underfield stopped, waved, and met a cafe au lait colored woman with a drop dead gorgeous face wearing black Danskins that hugged her curves like the white line hugs the center of the highway. Just the sight of her set Broxton’s heart pumping. Like Underfield, she was wearing running shoes. It took Broxton less than a second to figure out that they’d be coming back his way, because they were probably going to the Savannah to run. He looked left, then right, then dashed between a small auto parts store and a bakery three doors back, toward the embassy.

They jogged by seconds later and Broxton let them get down the block before leaving his hiding place and going after them. Two blocks brought them to the ring road around the Savannah. He watched while they crossed it and turned left. From where he stood it was about three quarters of a mile across the large park. He guessed that it would take them longer to jog the two miles around it to get to the spot where he’d be if he kept straight on at a brisk walk.

Twenty minutes later he was sitting on a bench, looking up the hill across the street at the Hilton Hotel as the pair came jogging toward him, but they didn’t pass, instead they turned left, crossed the ring road, and continued jogging on up toward the hotel.

“
Shit,” he muttered as he pushed himself up from the bench. He’d been so sure that they’d jog on by without noticing him, but then he felt the morning sun on his shaved head and he knew that Underfield would have pegged him right away.

He started to cross the street when he saw a group of young people headed his way. They looked like they were between fifteen and seventeen, four boys and three girls. One of the boys was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. He sat back down on the bench and waited for them to approach.

“
Wanna sell the Yankees cap?” he said when the group was within hearing distance.

“
Not really,” the boy said.

“
Fifty US, right now,” Broxton said.

“
It’s yours.” The boy tossed Broxton the cap. Broxton reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“
You’re crazy, right?” one of the girls said.

“
No, I just like the Yankees.” Broxton handed the kid a fifty.

“
I like ’em, too,” the kid said.

“
Yeah, about fifty bucks US worth,” another one of the girls said and they all laughed and continued on their way.