Lifeguard

person around here?”

The desk clerk studied it for a second and then shrugged no. He showed it to a colleague. She shook her head. “Maybe you want to show it to Simon. He works nights.”

Ellie ?ashed the photo around to the door staff and then the restaurant manager. She showed it to a couple of waiters. Everybody shook his head, no. It was a long shot, Ellie reminded herself. Maybe she’d come back at night and try Simon.

“Hey, I know that dude,” one of the room-service waiters said. She’d found him in the kitchen. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw the face. “That’s Ms. McAuliffe’s friend.”

Ellie blinked. “You’re sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” the waiter, Jorge, exclaimed. “He comes around here every once in a while. Good tipper. Gave me twenty bucks to pop a bottle of champagne.”

“You’re saying they were friends?” Ellie asked, feeling her pulse come alive.

“You could call them friends.” Jorge tossed a smile. “Like, I gotta learn how to get me some friends like that, too. Hard to ?gure, short bald dude with someone who looked like that. Gotta ?gure he had bucks, right?”

“Yeah.” Ellie nodded. “Lotta bucks, Jorge.”

Chapter 49

I TURNED THE IMPALA into a half-full lot on Military Trail south of Okeechobee. Next to Vern’s Tank and Tummy and Seminole Pawn, a long way from the mansions on the beach.

The place looked more like some run-down shipping of?ce or one of those whitewashed stucco huts that housed seedy, ambulance-chasing lawyers. Only the handful of retuned Vespas on the sidewalk and the cracked Yamaha sign in the window gave it away.

Geoff’s Cycles. NATIONAL MINI RACING CHAMPION. 1998.

I parked the car and stepped inside. No one at the counter. I heard the sound of an engine being revved in the back. I wedged through shelves of helmet boxes into the garage. I saw a half-?nished bottle of Pete’s Wicked Ale on the ?oor and pair of beat-up Addidases sticking out from under a gleaming Ducati 999. The engine revved again.

I kicked the sneakers. “That thing run like an old lady having a coughing ?t, or does it just sound like one?”

An oily face wheeled out from under the blocks. Close-cropped orange hair and a fuzzy smile. “Dunno, mate. Guess that depends on how fast the old bag can run.”

Then his eyes bulged as wide as if I’d crawled out of a crypt in Dawn of the Dead. “Holy Shit, Ned!”

Geoff Hunter dropped the wrench and hopped to his feet. “It is you, Ned. Not some body double for Andrew Cunanan?’

“It’s me,” I said, taking a step forward. “Whatever’s left.”

“Mate, I’d like to say you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Geoff said, shaking his head, “but, frankly, I was hoping you were a whole lot farther away from this sorry-assed place than here.” He wrapped his greasy, oil-stained arms around my back.

Champ was a Kiwi, who’d been on the world minicycle racing tour for several years. Once, he even held the tour speed record. After a bout or two with Jack – Daniel’s – and a sticky divorce, he ended up performing motorcycle stunts in cycle shows, like jumping over cars and through hoops of ?re. I’d met him working the bar at Bradley’s. You put anything crazy enough in front of him and chased it with a beer, Champ was in!

He went over to a minifridge and opened a Pete’s for me. Then he sat on the fridge. “I ?gure you’re not here for the brew, now, are you, mate?”

I shook my head. “I’m in deep shit, Geoff.”

He snorted. “You think just ’cause my brain’s half fried and I’m drunk the other half of the time, I can’t read the papers, Ned? Well, that might be true – but I can turn on the TV.”

“You know I didn’t do any of that stuff, Champ.” I looked him in the eye.

“You’re preaching to the choir, mate. You think anyone who actually knows you believes you’re going around the country, killing every bloke you meet? It’s the rest of the world I’d be worried about. I was sorry about those friends of yours, Ned, and your brother. Just what kind of mess are you in?”

“The kind that needs help, Geoff. Lots of it.”

He shrugged. “You can’t be aiming very high if you’re coming to me.”

“I guess I’m coming” – I swallowed – “to the only place I can.”

Geoff winked, and tipped his beer toward me. “Been there,” he said, nodding. “It’s a long straight shot down from number one, ’specially when you can’t see straight in the morning, not to mention trying to drive it, taking spoon curves at one hundred eighty miles an hour. I don’t have much cash, mate, sorry. But I know how to get you out of here, if that’s what you need. Know these boats that sneak in past the Coast Guard down the coast a bit, whatever the hell they’re carrying. Guess they go back out as well. I bet Costa Rica sounds good about now, right?”

I shook my head. “I’m not trying to leave, Geoff. I want to prove I didn’t do these things. I want to ?nd out who did.”

“I see…You and which army, mate?”

“I ?gure it’s that, or kill myself,” I said.

“Been there, too.” Geoff rubbed an oily hand over his orange hair. “Shit, seems I’m perfectly quali?ed to lend a hand after all. That, and I’m a sucker for a lost cause. But you know that, don’t you, Neddie-boy? That’s why you’re here.”

“That,” I said, “and no other place to go.”

“Flattered.” Champ took another swig of beer. “You know, of course, I get caught just in the general zip code with you, I could risk everything here. My business, the comeback.”

He got up and limped over to a sink, looking as if he had crawled out of a scrum after two hours of rugby. He washed the grease off his hands and face. “Oh, screw the comeback, mate… But we oughta get one thing straight before I commit.”

“I won’t put your ass in any danger, Champ, if that’s what you mean.”

“Danger?” He looked at me as if I were crazy. “You must be joking, mate. I ?y through gasoline ?res for three hundred bucks a shot. I was only thinking…You are fucking innocent, aren’t you, Ned?”

“Of course I’m innocent, Geoff.”

He chewed on the beer bottle for a few seconds. “Okay, that makes things easier… Anyone ever tell you, you’re a hard fucking bargainer, Ned?” Champ’s eyes crinkled into a smile.

I went over and extended a hand, then pulled him toward me. “I didn’t have anyone else to turn to, Geoff.”

“Don’t get all maudlin on me, Neddie. Whatever you got in store is a whole lot safer than the usual line of work. But before we crack a beer on it, you must have some kind of plan. Who else do we have in the pit?”

“Some girl,” I said. “I hope.”

“Some girl?” Geoff squinted.

“Good news is, I think she believes me, too.”

“Good to know, mate. We’ll overwhelm ’em with numbers. So what’s the bad news, then?”

I frowned. “Bad news is, she’s with the FBI.”

Chapter 50