Chapter Twenty-Five

Thursday, eleven a.m.

  

Rod Stewart’s “If You Think I’m Sexy” blared on an old radio in the corner of the rundown vape store when Crome entered. He’d run through the vape juice he had with him in the saddle bags of his bike and the ones he’d stashed, in case of emergency, in his beach rental and needed more—a lot more.

The woman behind the counter had a short and round shape with tattoos recently added to pale, white skin. What she needed, and Crome knew he was too far gone because he was wasting brain cells thinking about this seriously, was an hour walk each day in the sunshine.

She handed him his nicotine and a new flavor, caramel. It was Maureen’s favorite. He paid and left the store, now thinking he was glad he hadn’t relapsed and stopped at the corner for a bag of reds. Speed certainly tuned him up and sharpened his edge into a lethal blade. Part of him was busy trying to convince the other part that he could use the bump.

The rest of him still remembered the weekend he went cold turkey—a living hell that lasted a month. Plus, he liked stockpiling money these days. At his peak of drug use, the red habit ate up five hundred a week. That was ten years ago. God only knew how much the stuff cost now.

When he’d quit, one of his dealers had made the mistake of coming around trying to get him to relapse. Crome taught the man a lesson, and the dealer, his name was Fred, had walked around with a cast on his arm for six weeks. Everyone in the life had known what happened, and no other dealers approached him after that.

His cell phone buzzed as he mounted his bike. He looked at the display, saw Tess’s number and answered.

“Yo.”

She said, “You up for watching some home movies?”

“Of you?”

“The marina.”

The power of a beautiful woman. He and Blu would have had to break in and steal the footage. Tess just walked in and asked for it. The wonders never ceased.

He said, “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” she said. “That way I can leave if you irritate me.”

“Fair enough. You want me to stop and pick up Chinese?”

Chinese? Jesus, he really had to get his head screwed back on straight. Right after he took another hit from his jacked-up vaporizer.

He did.

Much better.

“Actually,” she said, “that would be great. See you in about half an hour.”

Forty minutes later, after he’d stopped and purchased two bags full of stir-fry, wonton soup, and egg rolls and had them sitting on his kitchen counter, Tess walked in. She had a tote bag slung over a shoulder exposed thanks to the tank top she wore and carried a six pack of Coke Zero.

“Kinda defeats the purpose, don’t you think?” he asked.

She set her purse and the drinks on his recently wiped off kitchen table. “What does?”

He watched her slide the backpack off. “The whole diet drink thing.” Pointing at the food, he said, “There’s about a million calories right there and only two of us.”

“I’ve got a date with my personal trainer in four hours,” she said. “That should burn off most of lunch. What’re you gonna do?”

He put his hands behind his head and kicked back. “Oh, I don’t know. Take a run down the beach later.”

“Yeah, right. I remember you saying you never ran.”

“Especially if someone was chasing me.”

“Ha.”

She set the backpack and purse on his table and opened the fridge. “I was expecting your refrigerator to need a good cleaning. But it looks like all you put in here is beer.”

“What else do I need?”

She pulled a Coke off the six pack, set the rest of them on a shelf and shut the fridge door. “Oh, I don’t know. How about food?”

“Don’t cook.”

It looked like she was going to say something else and then stopped herself. Probably, he thought, a wise move.

Twisting the top of her bottle of Coke, she said, “I’ll get the computer connected to your TV. Why don’t you get the food out? You got plates?”

Crome pulled a package of Styrofoam plates and bowls from a second bag and set them on the table.

“Good enough.” She gave him a smile and went on taking wires and electronic devices out of her backpack.

While she did that, he took out the containers, opened them up, and stuck plastic forks in the food. He then put the packs of soy sauce, hot mustard, and duck sauce in a pile.

“You want me to fix you a plate?” he asked.

She was in the middle of connecting some wires to the jacks in the TV and turned her head to look at him.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this. She looked great, like always. Those librarian glasses on her nose.

“What?” he asked.

“Um,” she said, “sure.” She turned back to her work.

He poured soup in the bowls, put an egg roll on each plate, added brown rice and topped the rice off with three small piles of the dishes he’d purchased. The plates had equal amounts of food. He didn’t eat often, but when he did, he ate a lot.

Carrying the full plates first, he set them on the coffee table in front of the couch that faced the TV. On the second trip, he had the soup and utensils. A third was needed for the condiments and his own Coke.

She completed all the connections about the same time he’d finished getting the meal ready. Everything she’d done with the wires was like a foreign language to him.

“Where’s the TV remote?” she asked.

He got up, found it stuck between the cushions of the couch, and handed it to her. Not big on TV, the last time he remembered turning it on was to watch the national dirt bike championship. That was a few weeks ago, well before Maureen got taken.

Tess pushed some buttons and a source menu came up on the screen. She selected an input and then her laptop display also showed up on his TV. She went back to her laptop, moved the mouse and got something running. The display on both monitors changed to a scene on the water. The downtown marina on the Ashley River. He recognized it because he’d been there the night before—wooden decking with rows and rows of slips for different size boats.

He dipped his egg roll in a puddle of mustard and crunched down on it.

She sat beside him, picked up the bowl, held it close to her mouth, and spooned some soup. “I loaded it from a couple hours before the last time I spoke with Harmony.”

Sitting next to him, the two of them alone in his house, he realized how much of a dirt bag he’d been to both her and Harmony and Blu and Patricia. Of course he’d never admit it aloud.

Her spoon in mid-flight to her mouth, she paused. “What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re looking at me, but not like you’re checking me out like you usually do.”

“Huh?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say and didn’t want to spout out the truth.

“Never mind.” She slurped her soup in the most ladylike manner he’d ever seen.

She said, “There it is again.”

“Are we gonna watch the video or not?” he asked, now a little uncomfortable. First Harmony chewed him out, now Tess was reading his mind. He really needed to get away again. Maybe after this was over, after he killed whoever had Maureen, he’d leave town. Get back down to the degenerate side of Key West. Drown in margaritas and señoritas for a few months, try and forget everything.

“There he is,” she said.

Crome kicked out of introspection and focused on the TV. The image had gone from dusk to dark and the lights perched over the slips illuminated the dock. A man walked down the wood planks toward a small yacht. It took a few moments for Crome to recognize him.

“I still can’t believe she bopped the mayor,” he said.

With more than a hint of coolness in her voice, Tess said, “We don’t know what they were doing.”

“If that boat leaves the dock and heads out to sea with her on it, there’s only a few reasons to go through all this trouble.”

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“Yep.”

“Figures.”

The man hopped onto the boat and swung himself to the console. Soon after, the boat lights turned on and the mayor could clearly be seen fiddling with the controls.

“Probably checking the fuel level,” Crome said. “You know, he was a client of ours a while back. What a tool.”

“Should we be looking at him?” she asked.

“I doubt it,” Crome said. “It was a private security job and he’s still living.”

Another figure appeared. It was Harmony.

Tess let out a slight gasp.

“Gotta be some angle she’s playin’ here,” Crome said. At least he hoped so. Anything else would be, well, he wasn’t sure what that would be. There was every bit of thirty-plus years between their ages.

They both watched Harmony, wearing a tank top and short skirt, board the boat with the help of the mayor. He then untied the lines and started the motor and they left the slip.

“We’ve got to go earlier to see if anyone besides the two of them got on that boat,” he said.

“You’re assuming the mayor isn’t our dirt bag.”

“Oh,” Crome said, “he’s a dirt bag, all right. But I’m pretty sure he’s not the kidnapping kind. Want some coffee?”

She held up her bottle of soda. “I’m good.”

Crome went to his kitchen, dumped out the old grinds and filter, and reloaded it, adding enough water for a full pot.

Tess said, “You’re not drinking?”

It came out with equal parts surprise, apprehension, concern, and approval.

He looked over at her. “I’m not popping amphetamines either if that helps you.”

“It doesn’t.”

She was one sharp cookie. Probably smarter than him and Blu if he had to guess. He knew what she meant. It wasn’t a secret to him that he was a functioning addict. Just because he’d been able to wean himself off of the red pills didn’t mean he was clean. Every day for him until Maureen’s disappearance consisted of drinking at least a six pack. Now even the booze was on the back burner. He’d hate to see his blood-nicotine level, though.

“What would?” he asked.

“What would what?”

“Help you?”

Straightening her back, she looked directly at him. “What would help me is for you to not go off again and try to solve this yourself.”

“I thought we’d moved past that,” Crome said.

“Frankly,” she said, “I only have to put up with you for as long as I care to. But Blu is your business partner. And he’s your friend. You tried to screw him over.”

“Blu plays by too many rules.”

“Not so sure I agree with you on that one,” she said.

Where was this going? He had no idea.

“Did you find a new place for us to watch on the video?”

“Don’t like the topic of conversation?”

“Something like that,” he said, not sure what else to say.

She gave him a grin, but he knew it wasn’t from happiness. Her friend was in trouble and she was taking out some frustration on him. That was okay. He deserved her words. She was a good kid.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready when you are.”

The coffee pot beeped. He rinsed his mug out, ignoring the dark rings coloring the inside of it, the ones keeping track of the days since it had been washed properly, and filled the cup.

He seated himself next to her again and she pressed play. They watched the comings and goings of people in the marina. After a while, Crome could pick out who worked there by what they were doing on the screen.

Crome saw something and said, “Hold it.”

Tess paused the video.

“Back it up thirty seconds,” Crome said.

She did.

There it was. A man strolled down the dock, passed the mayor’s boat, and then slipped back on from the stern. It was a smooth move and not one most people would have picked up on.

She replayed it in slow motion and paused at the best shot at the man’s face. It was grainy, but Crome could tell he was in his fifties, well-toned, and agile enough.

Tess said, “You recognize him?”

“Nope. But ten gets you twenty he’s our guy.”