Key Weird 05; Key Lucky Read online

  “Got it at work. Took it to a machine shop in Marathon.” Lucky found a small screwdriver in the toolbox and pried the top off. Slip looked inside, then at Lucky.

  “Damn, but that’s a pretty sight!”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  40

  Sisters

  When Consuelo left the Sandy she wasn’t exactly looking forward to dealing with her sisters. Even though Sara was the oldest by several years, Lydia had always been the most mature. She took care of the business end of the hotel while keeping her sisters in line and out of trouble. Often no small feat in itself, as Consuelo was recently discovering. From the phone conversations it sounded like the two sisters waiting at the hotel had been working themselves into a state all day.

  Consuelo almost made it to the hotel without getting wet. Almost. She knew the route well and made record time the last few blocks, but by the time she’d parked her bike in the garage and gotten through the front door she was thoroughly soaked. Sara and Josephine were waiting by the front desk. As soon as they saw their sister, both dropped what they were doing and ran across the lobby and hugged her for all they were worth.

  “You two need to get a grip, I’m going to get you both wet! Look, we have some important things to go over.” Consuelo made her sniffling siblings park themselves on one of the couches in the lobby. Sara had some news.

  “The police called. They found the car.”

  “Oh?” Consuelo found a towel and started drying her hair.

  “Two homeless guys parked it on the sidewalk in front of Sloppy Joes. The morons were so drunk they were still sitting in the car arguing about driving it the rest of the way into the bar when a patrolman happened by.”

  “No one hurt? The car is okay?”

  “No. Yes. The police said the two found it parked behind a dumpster with the keys in the ignition. It’s at the police vehicle compound and we can pick it up anytime. Have you heard anything else? About Lydia?”

  The mention of their kidnapped sister’s name had Josephine on the verge of tears again.

  “No, but we should be getting her back at five, like I told you.” Consuelo looked into the anxious eyes of her sisters. She knew what would get their minds off of Lydia’s predicament, at least for a while. “If you two are going to Mallory with Slip, keep in mind this Reverend asshole has seen at least Josephine when he came by here, maybe you too Sara. We don’t want to do anything to scare him off, so, hey, it might be a good idea if you both wore disguises.”

  Sara and Josephine looked at one another. Josephine, who rarely talked without a stutter, tilted her head and smiled just a tiny bit.

  “Oh, really?”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  41

  Rain

  “You gonna share that?”

  Skunk thought about it a second before handing the bottle over to Taco Bob, who tossed the full pint bottle of rum overboard. Skunk’s face was one big frown.

  “I was afraid of you doing that.”

  “Sorry, I need you sober. I’m going to ease up here to the gas dock. While you tie off the boat, I’ll see about getting this ol’ girl fueled up.”

  Taco Bob slapped Skunk on the shoulder as he stepped off the boat. “We get this young lady back, you might be able to talk me into buying you a beer.”

  Twenty minutes later the Wilbur’s tanks for the inboard engine were topped off. As soon as Skunk cast off the lines, Taco Bob motored the old cabin cruiser back towards her slip across the marina. Skunk’s frown hadn’t eased much and the weather wasn’t the kind to make anyone smile.

  “Well, Taco, looks like Slip hit the nail on the head about those storms. Rougher’n a cob out there now.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad we’re not going far in this stuff. We’re good on time so we might as well take a shot at that float switch while we wait on Consuelo.”

  The rain came again so both men wore foul-weather gear while they tied off the boat lines. Taco Bob went in the forward cabin and checked in with Lucky and Consuelo on his cell phone. By the time he came back out the rain had slacked off some, but not the wind.

  “Everybody’s on schedule. Consuelo’s on her way to pick up their car now. Let’s get this switch replaced. Be one less thing to worry about while we’re out there. Pop that hatch cover and crawl on in. I’ll hand you what you need.”

  Skunk wiggled down inside. “I see what you mean, there’s some water down in here already.”

  It took some straining and a lot of cussing, but Skunk finally got the old parts out. Then he dropped the flashlight in the bilge water and that was that.

  “Might as well come out of there for a minute while I walk down to the Sandy and get my big marine flashlight.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  42

  Boats

  The rain drumming on the roof of the car went nicely with the drums of The Song in the Reverend’s head. At least he finally had the car back. Had to sign a bunch of papers and shell-out nearly five hundred dollars – most of that for the silly HAZMAT nonsense. This had not at all improved either his financial situation or his opinion of law enforcement. Or his mood.

  He’d cruised the marina slowly and carefully looking for a boat before parking where he could keep an eye on a likely candidate. The rain had run off the last few captains on Charter Boat Row, but one of the private boats further down had activity.

  The boat was a sleek sport fisherman with three big outboards that the Reverend liked the look of. A yuppie couple had been fussing around earlier up in the bow, but when the rain got serious they’d retreated into the small cabin. Damn nice boat, though, maybe thirty foot.

  The Reverend checked his watch, still plenty of time. He was in no hurry to get wet, so he decided to give it a few more minutes to see if the rain slacked up some before breaking the news to the lucky couple that they’d been selected to give him their boat.

  The big man settled into the car seat and went back into the merging of the rain drumming on the car roof and the drums in his head while thinking about Stevie Nicks’ underwear. The Reverend hadn’t attempted to have sex since the head of Puppy Angels had done some serious damage to his equipment, but he still enjoyed thinking about it occasionally.

  Lost in thoughts of black lace on taunt, plump ass cheeks, and with a soothing, rhythmic drumming in the background, the Reverend didn’t notice the windows starting to fog up in the Buick. Nor did he notice the old cabin cruiser come across the marina and tie up just down from the sport fisherman. He did notice, however, when a man wearing a raincoat and hat came off the boat, walked along the dock not fifty feet in front of him, and disappeared into the rain. Leaving one small man alone on the boat.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  43

  Raincoat

  The man still on the boat was wearing a raincoat several sizes too big for him. He’d watched from the boat’s stern as the Reverend backed the car up within a few feet of the cabin cruiser. The raincoat gave the Reverend an idea as he got out of the car and stepped across the dock.

  “Hey buddy! I’ll give you fifty dollars for that raincoat!”

  “Sorry, mister, it ain’t mine to sell.”

  “A hundred? I’ve got the money right here.” That got the little man to come out of the shelter of the cabin doorway and step closer. “I really need a raincoat. Will two fifties do it?” Walk right up to the back of the boat where the little fucker is standing now, grab the front of the coat and shove the gun hard into his ribs.

  “Don’t get stupid on me now. You can keep the raincoat on until you get something out of the trunk for me. A couple of bullet holes won’t be nearly the problem for the raincoat as they will be for you.”

  The Reverend led the now shaking man over to the car and popped the trunk. Even though the woman was neatly wrapped in a motel bedspread, it was still all the little guy could manage on his own in the rain.

  After the Reverend had them both in the boat’s cozy cabin, he pulled the bedspread off to make s
ure his hostage hadn’t smothered. She hadn’t, judging by the fire in her eyes. The woman looked like she’d try to rip his throat out if she wasn’t bound and gagged.

  “Mister, what in blazes is going on here?”

  The Reverend used the gun to swat the smaller man to the floor.

  “Time to give me the raincoat. You’re taking us for a little boat ride and how cooperative you are is going to figure in greatly in how far we are from land when I throw you overboard.”

  “I can’t hardly swim, mister!”

  The Reverend put on the raincoat, then started barking orders. “Let’s get this tub going. Untie those ropes and get the engine started!” When the scared little man hesitated, out came another gun.

  “You look like you might be hard to kill, so keep in mind I got another gun here if I need it after I empty the first one in you.”

  In spite of his claims of nautical ineptitude, after seeing the two loaded guns pointed at him, the man called Skunk had the old cruiser heading out of the marina and into the rain and wind in no time.

  With Skunk at the wheel and the woman on the floor of the forward berth, the Reverend let himself go back into the dual drummings and savored once again the feeling of control.

  Something had changed, though. Above the rumbling of the boat engine and the crashing of wind and waves, The Song was louder and stronger than ever. The combined effect was so powerful he had to hold onto the windowsill with both hands as he stared into the surging seas.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  44

  Shock

  Taco Bob stopped walking and just stood there on the dock in disbelief watching his boat disappearing into the driving rain. As he was known to do when suddenly faced with unbelievable situations, he counted the fingers on his left hand to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t.

  So he went over his options. With his flats boat currently in the shop he didn’t really have much in the way of options, so he just spit into the water.

  “What in the world is Skunk doing?”

  That’s when he noticed the car. There hadn’t been a car backed up to the dock when he left. Since his immediate plans remained uncertain, Taco Bob took a minute to walk over for a look. He noticed a couple of bullet holes in the right rear quarter panel. After another glance in the direction the Wilbur had gone, he jogged back to the houseboat.

  “Lucky, it’s me again. That car our friend was driving the night you two had the little problem over by the cemetery? Yeah, that one. There’s a high-mile Buick with a couple of bullet holes in one side parked where my boat and Skunk are supposed to be. Yes, it does indeed suck. I guess the good news is at least we know what kind of boat the Reverend is going to have at Mallory.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  45

  Options

  While Taco Bob stood on the back of his houseboat again looking in the direction his Wilbur had gone, the rain slacked up enough for the couple from the sport fisherman a few slips down to make a dash for their SUV. By the time he realized the weather had already run off everyone else in the area, they were gone as well.

  Taco Bob racked his brain, but could come up with only one person with a boat big enough, and who was crazy enough to go out in squally weather.

  So he stood there on the deck of the Sandy and thought about it some more. The person he had in mind tended to be eccentric at times, but was also a tough old bastard, not to mention more than a little dangerous. Taco Bob had only been out on the man’s old converted shrimp boat once, but they’d come back a man light that day. Which forever proved in his mind that this was one Key West boat captain you did not want to piss off.

  He stepped back inside when his cell started ringing. Looked like Lucky calling back.

  “What’s up?”

  “Just got a call, said he wants to move the meet up an hour. I couldn’t stall him, Taco. He threatened to hurt Lydia. I won’t bother you with the details, but this guy really is seriously warped, and mean.”

  “I’ve got one idea for a boat. It’s not a good idea, but it’s all I can come up with. We’ve still got almost an hour. If you don’t hear from me just do whatever you have to do to get Lydia back.”

  “We really need a boat for backup. I don’t trust this guy.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Taco Bob punched off then hit the speed dial. “Consuelo, where are you?”

  “About to pull into the marina.”

  “Things are rapidly going to hell here. Pull up next to the Sandy and I’ll jump in. We’re going to have to find Shark Hunter.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  46

  Teachers

  “Sorry about the top, it’s stuck again.”

  Taco Bob slid in on the wet car seat and slammed the door.

  “Let’s see if we can catch Shark Hunter at his boat.”

  A soaked Consuelo hit the gas and the big car roared across the nearly empty parking lot.

  “The old abandoned marina on Stock Island?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s still holed up there.”

  Through the strings of wet bangs, Taco Bob could see Consuelo’s eyes were all business. The determined young hotel proprietress guided the rusty but strong old car out of the marina and onto the rain-slick streets with deft precision. Taco Bob related what he knew about the Reverend taking off with his boat and Skunk, then moving the meet time up an hour. Consuelo didn’t say anything, just concentrated on getting them to the old marina as quickly as safely possible. So next he brought her up to speed on Lucky and Slip.

  “They should be on their way to Mallory. Lucky said he’d be in place at least ten minutes early. Are your sisters ready?”

  “Sara and Josephine are at Mallory now, watching for Slip. They’re just going to blend in with the tourists so they can stay close to the action.”

  Taco Bob and Consuelo were both so wired and into the moment they had everything covered quickly, so they were quiet while she calmly and aggressively piloted the big car across town and over the bridge to Stock Island. Taco Bob still had his yellow raincoat and hat on, but Consuelo just wore her typical shorts and t-shirt. The rain slacked but Consuelo was already soaked to the skin. As usual she wasn’t wearing a bra, and at the moment could easily pass for a finalist in a wet t-shirt contest. Taco Bob was trying not to stare, but he finally did and got caught. He knew the look in those eyes meant trouble; he just didn’t know what kind until she spoke.

  “Want to talk about us?”

  “No.” He got the same look again. “Can it wait until we get Lydia back?”

  “No.”

  Consuelo took a left a block early and cut through a restaurant parking lot to avoid the backup at a traffic light. She remained totally in control of her driving, yet somehow totally focused on Taco Bob as well.

  “Taco, did any of my sisters ever tell you about our teachers?”

  “Well, no, not really.”

  “Where we grew up, in California, besides the usual teachers at school we had special teachers.” As if on cue, a school bus pulled out of a side street and stopped in front of them blocking traffic in both direction while kids poured out onto the street. Consuelo’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel were the only outward sign of impatience. “Our special teachers first taught us the basics to survive in the modern world: things like cooking, first aid, personal finance, self defense, and even auto repair. As we got older they determined our individual strengths and weaknesses, then trained us accordingly.”

  The last kid off the bus forgot something and had to go back inside. Turned out to be a tuba almost as big as the kid. Consuelo had the car moving again the instant the bus inched forward.

  “One of my teachers used to take me into the mountains. He never took my sisters, only me. One day after a long hike he said I was a throwback to the time when people lived in caves or roamed the countryside following game herds. He said my genes went back to a breed of people who were able to survive i
n the harshest conditions, and not only survive, but prosper. To prove his point he left me alone in those mountains in the winter once for five days with no clothes, nothing. He’d only taught me a little about wilderness survival at that point, but when he came back I’d made clothes out of animal fur and eaten so much I gained almost three pounds.” As she took the last turn before the old marina, she locked on Taco Bob. “I was twelve years old then. My teachers pushed me hard for years afterwards and I was forced to grow up fast. During that time my sisters and I had to take care of our ailing mother and run that old hotel in California by ourselves. I think you could say I’m a lot older than my years.”

  Taco Bob didn’t know what to say, but with her wet hair flying in the breeze, Consuelo indeed looked every bit the fierce hunter-gatherer. He had a brief flash in his mind’s eye of a woman with short blonde hair running through a rainforest.

  Consuelo slid the car to a stop in front of the gate to the abandoned marina. Taco Bob jumped out and opened the gate. They left the car in a weedy parking area and headed down a path through the scrub and derelict buildings. A few minutes later they were carefully walking along the narrow plank leading onto Clarence ‘Shark’ Hunter’s boat.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  47

  Shark Hunter

  “Yo, Captain Hunter! Anyone aboard?”

  Taco Bob stopped in his tracks on the walk-plank when he heard something crash inside the old boat. Sounded like someone dropped an empty pot. A big one. A few seconds later an angry face appeared at the cabin doorway.

  “Gawd damn it, man! You scared the living shit outta me!” A dog with an oversize head and bared teeth stuck his head out directly below the weathered old captain and gave a short growl of greeting. “Scared ol’ Queequeg here so bad he kicked the bucket off the dinner table!”