Loitering with Intent

STONE BURST OUT the door and saw a beautiful little 32-footer moored at the end of the outer dock. Evan Keating was standing in the cockpit, looking at him.

Stone hurried over and stepped aboard. Evan pointed at a cockpit seat, and Stone sat down. “How long have you been here?”

“Just a couple of minutes. I came in for fuel, but they don’t have fuel here.”

“I guess you’ll have to go down to Key West Bight.”

“First of all, the managing partner of my law firm got your grandfather out of the nursing home where your father had imprisoned him. He’s at home and being taken care of by his old secretary.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Evan said, without much enthusiasm. “What else?”

“It appears that your father may be trying to hire somebody to kill you.”

This got Evan’s full attention. “Why do you think that?”

“Because someone sounding like him, New England accent and all, called a private investigator of my acquaintance and inquired about having a dirty job done. Earlier, your father had hired him to find you.”

“That sounds like the old man,” Evan said. “Any details of who he hired and how he plans to do it?”

“No, the P.I. hung up on him when it became obvious what he wanted.”

“And you don’t know if he found somebody else?”

“You know your father better than I—is he the sort of man who would stop with one attempt?”

“Then, if I were you, I’d start watching my back.”

Stone looked up to see Gigi Jones stepping out of the cabin, almost dressed in a tiny bikini that showed everything to great effect. “Yes, I’ve had some experience of that,” he said. “I’m glad I’m seated with my back to the water.”

Gigi giggled. “Don’t be nervous, Mr. Barrington. It appears we’re on the same side, both dedicated to keeping Evan alive.”

“I guess,” Stone said, then he turned back to Evan. “There’s more: Your grandfather likes the idea of selling the company, so he’s taking over negotiations himself. He’d like very much to hear from you. Will you call him?”

“Sure,” Evan said. “I’ve got nothing against him. Why do you think my father wants me dead?”

“You’ve seen the number on the sales contract,” Stone said. “Do you think he would kill you for your third of eight hundred million dollars?”

Evan shrugged. “I guess that’s motive enough. He’d kill my grandfather for that, too.”

“But then why would he bother to put him in a nursing home? Also, if you’re right about his poisoning your Uncle Harry, then he might hesitate to kill your grandfather, too.”

“Too many deaths by poisoning in one family, huh?”

“Yes, but if he had somebody put a bullet in you in Key West, he’s going to be far removed from the crime scene, isn’t he? You’d just be another rich boy who mingled with the wrong people, nothing to do with him.”

“I guess that would work for him,” Evan said.

“Tell me something: Do you think it’s possible your father had something to do with the killing of your friend Charley Boggs? Could a hit man have gotten the two of you mixed up?”

“I doubt that,” Evan said. “Charley had a beard, remember?”

“Maybe you’ve been in Key West for too long,” Stone said. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable in a different state.”

“Maybe,” Evan said. “How about it, babe?” he said to Gigi. “You ready to move on?”

“As a matter of fact, so do I,” Evan said. “I guess I’ll take my chances.”

“Well, Evan,” Stone said, “you’re the only guy I know who, upon being told there was a contract out on him, would just sit tight and wait for a hit man to show up.”

“Stone, you had a pretty hard time finding me, didn’t you?”

“Well, why do you think some stupid ex-con would have an easier time of it?”

“If he’s as stupid as you think, then he might not find you. Or he might get lucky. Or if he’s a real pro, he might find you faster than I did and you won’t see him coming.”

“I hope you’re right,” Stone said. “You’ve got your grandfather’s phone number?”

“Then I’ll be saying goodbye, Evan; my work here is done.” Stone stood up.

“I guess it is, at that,” Evan said, offering him a hand. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Stone shook the hand. “I’ll try and put the whole business out of my mind,” he said. “But I’ll watch the business pages to see how the sale of Elijah Keating’s Sons turns out.”

“So will I,” Evan said. He went to the helm and started the engines.

Stone walked down the dock and untied the bow line, the springs and the stern line, coiled them and tossed them to Gigi.

He watched them ease out of the berth and turn toward the channel, and he noticed that there was no longer a name on the boat’s stern. He supposed Evan hadn’t thought of one yet.

Stone walked back into the yacht club and to Tommy’s table.

“So you all square with young Mr. Keating?” Dino asked.

“I’ve told him all the news from home,” Stone replied.

“Like a champ,” Stone said. “Hardly batted an eye.”

“You know,” Tommy said, “if somebody told me there was a hit man coming for me, I think I’d be upset.”

“Well, Evan isn’t upset at all,” Stone said, “and he says he isn’t going anywhere. Maybe you’d better save him a slab at your morgue.”

“Oh, we’ve always got a vacant slab,” Tommy said. “And the rates are better than at the Gardens.”

“Sometimes in summer,” Tommy said, “when the heat and the humidity are up and there’s no breeze, I’ve thought that a slab of marble might make a cool bed.”

“Brrrr,” Stone said, shivering. “Say, have you made any progress on the homicide of Charley Boggs?”

Tommy shook his head. “It was a clean crime scene, and the canvassing of the neighboring houseboats turned up nothing.”

“Nope. Apparently, she sleeps well. One of these days we’ll bust somebody on a drug charge or something, and he’ll want to give us Charley’s killer in exchange for a walk.”