Key Lucky Read online

  Good, sounds like her coming now.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  30

  Company

  Consuelo about gagged on the roach spray fumes when she opened the door.

  Step back outside and take a good breath before going back in. Don’t need to worry about anyone being inside. No one alive, at least.

  Use the small tactical flashlight and go straight to the bedroom and pull out the drawer. Reach for the pictures.

  Gone.

  Back outside to breathe. Everything still, just the air conditioners running. Inside again and feel under the couch for the laptop and camera.

  Nothing.

  Back outside to think. As long as she’s here, might as well check the whole trailer. Maybe he just moved things around. Go inside and slowly open a couple of windows and leave the door cracked – air the place out.

  Wait outside, stay alert. Check the watch, see how we’re doing on time. Here’s something now – someone coming.

  Consuelo crouched down between two trashcans and tried to see into the dark. Someone sneaking around the back of the trailers, the same way she’d come. Ready. Try to see who it is so she doesn’t clobber Lydia or something.

  Coming right for Lucky’s trailer. One man. Too small to be Lucky. Make it one fluid movement and nail him good – directly in center mass.

  “Oof!”

  Felt like the solar plexus – bull’s-eye! Her instructor would be proud.

  Shit! There’s two of them!

  “Consuelo?”

  “Slip?”

  They both went low and whispered.

  “Damn, you really are going to kill ol’ Skunk if you keep hitting him like that.”

  “Sorry. Let’s get him behind the trailer so I can make sure he’s all right.”

  Since a direct hit right below the ribcage in the solar plexus can completely knock the breath out of a person, Skunk was still holding his chest and gasping for air as they dragged him behind the trailer next door. He was wheezing as Consuelo used her flashlight to check him over. She leaned close to Slip, but still had to talk louder than she wanted so Slip could hear over the noisy air-conditioning unit overhead.

  “He’s okay, maybe a cracked rib or two.” Skunk seemed to be getting some air finally.

  Slip was shaking his head. “Damn, Con, you scared the hell out of me!”

  “Serves you right! What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you, I suspect. You been inside?”

  “Yeah, nobody there except a few dead roaches. The pictures and laptop are gone. I was letting the roach spray fumes out so I could give it a better look when you and Skunk happened along. Uh, he smells bad.”

  “Skunk? You didn’t shame yourself, did you?”

  There were some gasping noises from the dark figure on the ground that sounded like, “only a little.”

  “Slip, let’s leave him here as lookout and do a thorough check.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Twenty minutes later they were back outside.

  “Well, that sucked. Consuelo, he may have cut town. He could be hundreds of miles away by now.”

  “Most of his stuff is still inside and there’s food in the fridge. If he’s gone, he’s traveling light.”

  “Let’s wake Skunk up and get out of here.”

  “Lydia’s got the car across the street. We can give you a lift. Next thing is checking the bar in the morning. If he isn’t around maybe someone there knows where he is.”

  “Agreed.”

  After they got Skunk to his feet, Slip the eagle-eyed fishing guide took point with Consuelo working drag, making sure nothing behind them even moved. The three quietly made their way back single-file through the slumbering trailer park and across the street. Consuelo took the lead as they came around the Australian pines.

  “Oh, shit.”

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  31

  Looking for Lucky

  “Don’t stop right at the entrance to the park, go down a little further and I’ll get out there.” The Reverend saw the cabby glance in the rear-view mirror. “It’s an ex-wife thing, you don’t want to know.”

  The cabby grunted an agreement and started to slow when the Reverend noticed a car parked in the same place where he’d done his surveillance before.

  “Keep going. I’ll get out around the corner.”

  After the cab left he stayed low to the trees and got close enough to see the car. Convertible with one person. Sleeping? No, just put something in the back seat. Couldn’t get too close, but damned if it didn’t look like the woman Lucky was with from that hotel. Girlfriend checking on him? Could probably grab her, get Lucky to come to him. Then again, if she’s watching his place, maybe he’s there.

  As shitty a night as the Reverend was having, he sure could go for something to relieve his frustration. Torturing Lucky would do nicely. Relieve some stress and find out where the treasure is. A plan brilliant in its simplicity.

  Christ but it’s dark. Only one light for the whole park and that doesn’t do him any good sneaking along behind the trailers. So dark he’s not even sure which is the right trailer. This one? The only one that doesn’t have a noisy air-conditioner running.

  Voices! Freeze. And again, coming from the next trailer, someone outside. Real careful now, pull the gun and get a little closer. Two shadows down low under the noisiest air-conditioner of the lot. Loud enough he can barely hear a voice say no one’s there, and they’re going back inside. Shit, here they come! Crouch down against the fence. They’re going in Lucky’s trailer all right. One looks like a woman and the other definitely not Lucky – too big in the shoulders. No sense in sticking around if the bastard isn’t even here. Looks like Plan B.

  Back out to the street, then across. Come up behind the car.

  “All right, young lady, don’t move a muscle or I’ll - ”

  Jesus Fuck! Bitch is up on the seat with a ball bat swinging! Ouch! Fuck! Grab the bat and punch her a good one in the side of the face. Down like a sack of potatoes.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  32

  Frustration

  “It’s got to be Lucky. He’s got my sister.”

  “Or one of his gang has got her.”

  Taco Bob wanted to say something to Consuelo about her not listening to him, but decided the timing was not quite right for an ‘I told you so’ lecture. Plus she looked so angry she might just kick his ass on the spot.

  This time Taco Bob was sitting down and Consuelo was the one pacing the lounge of the old houseboat.

  After the shock of finding nothing but hard ground and sandspurs in the spot where she’d left her sister, Consuelo had checked the area with her flashlight. A couple of footprint partials too big to be hers and the car’s tire tracks going onto the road in the direction of Key West were the only clues to Lydia’s disappearance. They tried her cell and got no answer, so Consuelo left a message.

  They called a cab and did some looking for a convertible with a sunrise painted on the hood and a sunset on the trunk. Nothing. So they called Taco Bob and headed for the marina.

  They’d briefed him on the evening’s events, now it was time for a plan.

  “Whoever has my sister is in deep shit.” No arguments from anyone on this. Consuelo had spent some time on the phone trying to keep Sara and Josephine calmed down. Skunk was asleep and snoring in a chair, and Slip looked to be next.

  Taco Bob hated to sound like the voice of reason, but someone had to do it. “Let’s get a little sleep here and use my truck when it gets light, maybe we’ll spot the car. If not, we’ll look for Lucky at the bar.”

  “I told my sisters if we haven’t found her by noon we’re going to the police.”

  This got some upturned heads, even Skunk opened an eye. But no one said anything. They knew she was right.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  33

  Motel

  The Reverend looked at the woman on the bed. She was sti
ll mostly out of it; maybe hit her a little hard. Serves her right, he had a lump the size of a chicken egg on his forehead from that damn bat. Good thing he’s a big tough bastard with a hard head. One of the things you learn in prison is how to take a punch. He’d damned sure learned how to throw one as well.

  Didn’t worry about anyone seeing him taking her up to the room. Not that unusual to see someone carry a woman into a motel room after the bars close.

  Got her tied up so there wouldn’t be any surprises, then took care of the car. He’d read something in the paper that morning about Higgs Beach being a favorite place for the homeless. Drove there and parked behind a dumpster where the cops couldn’t easily see the car and the bums couldn’t possibly miss it. A convertible with the top down and the keys in the ignition ought to be temptation enough for one of the winos. With the woman and car taken care of he needed only one more thing.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got in your purse, sweetheart.”

  Billfold with some cash he could use. Name and address on the driver’s license. Cell phone is what he was looking for. He hated cell phones.

  Took a few minutes of pushing buttons, but he finally found it – a list of phone numbers, including the one he was looking for.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  34

  FBI

  Lucky got to work early the next morning so he’d have a few minutes to check the newspaper in the back room. Thanks to a news-hungry media following every move of the cops, he got some answers.

  “Reverend Earl Sharkey of Houston, Texas, reported…” Seems like he remembered hearing about a con named Sharkey. Didn’t remember the reverend thing, but not surprising since a lot of guys got religion inside. The Sharkey he’d heard about supposedly had a weird shark tattoo on his face. Couldn’t really tell last night, too dark.

  “…unknown assailant on bicycle…” So either Sharkey didn’t know who he’d been following, or more likely didn’t want to give the name up to the cops.

  He checked his trailer before leaving the park and there were a couple of things that didn’t look right in there again. Reverend Sharkey? He hadn’t been followed riding his bicycle to work, always a good thing. Maybe Sharkey got an invitation to spend some time with the police.

  If so, who’d been in his trailer? He did wake up once during the night and thought for a second he heard voices, but the air conditioner made so many different noises it could have just been that. Anyway, he fell back to sleep and once again slept the contented sleep of the newly rich.

  He’d felt all along he would know when to go, that there would be a sign of some sort. With this freak Sharkey following him it was definitely time to go, though he still wasn’t sure just how. He probably should have already cut town, but he’d wanted to see Lydia. Now he wanted to see her again, at least once.

  “Lucky? You back there? How about some ice in these bins? We got people coming in here already.”

  An early cruise ship had disgorged itself of its cargo and the place was packed in no time. Ron had Lucky taking care of a few of the regulars.

  He’d just put another round in front of a couple of locals discussing the cops’ new multi-agency Treasure Task Force when he noticed two grim men in new tropical shirts and long pants walking towards the bar and another two dressed the same way holding back a few steps.

  Lucky slowly eased towards the backroom, ready to bolt. The two men came up behind one of the locals sitting at the bar.

  “Arnie? Arnie Roach? FBI.” One held up a shield while the other took a look at a picture in his hand, then at Arnie. He nodded to his partner. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Hey, there’s some mistake here. My name is Arnie Smith.” Arnie was shaking and sweating. The other agent took a look at the 5X7 photo and nodded at the match. “Hey! You got the wrong guy! I ain’t had nothing to do with that treasure heist!”

  “Yes, we know. The tip we received was wrong. But you’ve got warrants – there’s no statute of limitations for international child support, Mr. Roach. If you could just stand over here for me real quick.”

  “You’ll never take me alive!”

  Arnie drunkenly launched himself off the barstool and tripped over his own feet. His trajectory couldn’t have been any straighter to the floor. He landed on his belly with the sound of a wet slap.

  After a second of stunned surprise, all four agents jumped on the squirming man. It didn’t take long, and soon a cuffed Arnie was led out of the bar puking and crying.

  Lucky got the mop, and while cleaning up Arnie’s first three Michelobs of the day, found the 5X7 under an overturned chair. It was Arnie all right.

  “I’ll take that.” An agent coming back in obviously looking for the picture. Lucky handed it over. The agent gave him a pointed look as he left with the photo.

  The combination of the FBI takedown and Arnie’s projectile vomiting had significantly reduced the number of thirsty clientele. Arnie’s usual drinking buddy also slipped out the door at the first opportunity.

  “Ron, I need to make a quick call to a friend. Five minutes?”

  “Yeah, sure. But don’t screw around, word gets around about that bust and the place will be packed again.”

  “Be right back.”

  A few minutes later Lucky was wiping down the bar. He held up Arnie’s keys from behind some glasses.

  “Ron?”

  “Must be Arnie’s. Probably got knocked down there. Put them next to the register.”

  Ron was right. It wasn’t long before the curious and thirsty filled the bar and they were busy again.

  “Lucky!”

  Consuelo coming up to the bar. Good, he needed to have a talk with her about Lydia. He didn’t want Consuelo to be jealous or upset.

  ∨ Key Lucky ∧

  35

  Upset

  All bubbly and smiling, Consuelo moved quickly behind the bar and gave Ron a wink as she gently pushed Lucky into the storeroom and shut the door. As soon as the door closed the smile vanished. She slammed his back against the wall and held him there with a foot in the center of his chest. Her scarred fists were clenched and came apart slowly like someone pulling back on a bowstring. Her eyes were on fire, her words ice.

  “Tell me where my sister is or your next words are your last.”

  Lucky had no reason to believe he wasn’t about to die. Since he had no idea where any of her sisters might be, he elected to say nothing.

  “Consuelo!” A tough-looking local coming through the door. He could see another man, a taller man, behind the bar talking to Ron. The first man closed the door and came over cautiously.

  “Blondie, don’t kill him, okay?”

  Consuelo never took her eyes off Lucky. He hadn’t felt such a deep, primal fear since prison, maybe ever. He wasn’t sure if he could talk even if he wanted to.

  “Con, can I have a word with him?” She gave a nod without taking her eyes off Lucky. “Okay. Lydia is missing, and - ”

  “Missing?”

  “Yes.” The man talking slowly and decisively. “We need to know where she is. As you can see, Consuelo here is very upset. She’s had a long night without much sleep and we just came from searching the entire island. We haven’t found Lydia or the hotel’s car and Consuelo is about to snap. You don’t want to be around when that happens, especially in your current circumstances. I strongly suggest you tell us everything you know, right now.”

  “I had dinner with her last night. I walked her to the hotel a little after nine.”

  “We know this. Were did you go after you left her at the hotel?”

  “Home. I went to the trailer park where I live.”

  Anger flashed across Consuelo face. She held her lethal posture and tightened her muscles until she trembled.

  The man continued, calmly. “Talk fast Lucky, you don’t have much time. You weren’t in your trailer last night.”

  But Lucky now knew who had been in there.

  “I bug-bombed the trai
ler and stayed in the one next door.”

  Consuelo blinked slowly, then looked at the man who nodded. She took her foot from Lucky’s chest and stepped back. Her fists stayed ready though, and she went back to staring into his eyes while she spoke.

  “Slip and I looked in your trailer last night. Lydia waited in the car across the street. When we came back she was gone, so was the car.”

  “The phone. I saw on my cell she called during the night, but didn’t leave a message. I didn’t see it until this morning. I was going to call on my break later.”

  Consuelo held out her hand. “Phone.”

  Lucky went over to his backpack and got his cellphone. While Consuelo went through his phone, Slip did the same with the backpack. Lucky started to protest, but held when he got a couple of dark looks.

  Consuelo held up the phone. “Okay, the call from Lydia, or at least from her cell, was just after three this morning. That’s about an hour after we realized the car and Lydia were gone. Something happened to her, I know it. She’s the responsible one, she wouldn’t do this as a prank.”

  Consuelo gave Lucky his cellphone. “Make the call.”

  “I think I may know what happened. There was a man following me, a Reverend Sharkey.”

  Consuelo looked at Slip, then back at Lucky. “In the paper this morning? The guy with the shooting?”

  “Yeah, he was following us last night, Lydia and I. After I dropped her off he started following me again so I took a few shots at his car hoping he’d take the hint. He might have come looking for me later, and found Lydia.”