6
STONE WOKE UP the following morning with his headache nearly gone. He took a couple of aspirin, ordered breakfast and found Dino on the front porch waiting for him.
“How you feeling?” Dino asked.
“A lot better. I still have a little headache, but I took some aspirin.”
“You remember anything else that happened last night?”
Stone thought about that. “Yeah, I think I talked to Evan Keating at the bar, but just for a minute.”
“Do you know how you got outside?”
Stone thought some more. “He suggested we talk outside, I think.”
“You remember anybody following you outside?”
“No, Keating was ahead of me.”
“Was he with anybody?”
“There was a girl, I think, but I thought he left her at the bar.”
“Was she beefy, muscular?”
“No, she was slim and attractive.”
“Then she either packs a hell of a punch or she hit you with something solid.”
“I don’t remember her going outside.”
“She could have been behind you.”
“I guess.”
“What did you say to Keating at the bar?”
Stone replayed the scene in his head again. “Not much. I told him I had some business with him and suggested we get together in the morning to discuss it. I think I told him . . . that he would like what I have to say, or something like that.”
“Maybe he didn’t get that message and thought you were some sort of threat,” Dino said.
“Didn’t Tommy say that he busted the guy on some sort of drug thing?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t hold up, and he was released.”
“Well, maybe the cops got an address for Keating.”
“I’ll call Tommy,” Dino said. He produced his cell phone, spoke briefly to Tommy Sculley and hung up. “Hotel La Concha,” Dino said. “I think that’s Spanish for ‘conch.’ It’s on Duval Street.”
Stone went and got the map the rental car agency had given him.
“Yeah, here it is,” he said, pointing. “Duval is kind of the main drag, and the hotel is marked. It’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Then let’s go see him after breakfast,” Dino said.
“Yes,” Stone said, “and carefully.”
Breakfast arrived and they ate, then showered and dressed.
“Let’s go see Mr. Keating,” Stone said.
“I think I’d better watch your back this time,” Dino replied.
“Good idea.”
They drove over to Duval and down to the Hotel La Concha, which was a large stucco building. They found a parking place and fed a lot of quarters into a meter, then went inside to the front desk. Stone approached the clerk on duty.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like to speak to a Mr. Evan Keating, who, I believe, is a guest here.”
“You just missed him,” the clerk said. “He left maybe fi ve minutes ago.”
“Do you know what time he’ll be back?”
“He won’t. He checked out and didn’t leave a forwarding address.”
“Did he say anything that might give you a clue where he was going?”
The man shook his head. “No. In fact, neither he nor his girlfriend said a word, except to ask for the bill.”
“He didn’t mention, for instance, the airport?”
“No.”
“Do you know his girlfriend’s name?”
“What’s this about?” the clerk asked.
Stone handed him a card. “I’m an attorney from New York. I have some business with Mr. Keating.”
“You’re suing him?”
“Nothing like that. I just have some papers for him to sign.” Stone showed him the envelope in his coat pocket. The clerk went to his computer terminal and typed a few strokes.
“The woman’s name is Gigi Jones.”
“Any home address for either of them?”
The clerk chuckled. “No, it just says ‘Itinerant.’ That’s the fi rst time I’ve ever seen that one.” The clerk smote his forehead. “Oh, I remember: when they arrived, Keating said they were on a boat.”
“Sail? Power?”
“He didn’t say. I got the impression that they were cruising and just wanted to get some shore time. Lots of people on boats do that; they want a real shower and their laundry done.”
“Did Keating get his laundry done?”
The clerk gazed at his terminal again. “Yep. Charge of $189 for laundry and dry cleaning. That’s a fair amount of stuff.”
“Did you have any other conversation with Keating?”
“Not really, just when he checked in and out.”
“Did he get or make a lot of phone calls?”
The clerk checked his computer again. “None at all, but that’s not unusual; everybody has a cell phone these days.”
“Did he mention where his boat was moored?”
“Nope.”
“How many marinas are there in Key West?”
The clerk laughed. “Lots.”
“What’s the biggest one?”
The clerk got out a tourist map and opened it, pointing at some sheltered water. “This is Key West Bight, and the biggest marina there is the Galleon, right here. But the whole bight is petty much all marina, and there are others along the shore.”
Stone thanked the man for his help, and he and Dino left. “Well, I guess we’d better start at Key West Bight,” he said. They drove down to Front Street, found a parking lot and walked to the Galleon Marina. They stopped at the dockmaster’s offi ce and spoke to a young woman at the desk. “Good morning,” Stone said.
“I’m looking for a fellow named Evan Keating; someone told me he’s docked here.”
She went to the computer. “Nope, no Keating. Do you have a boat name?”
“No.”
“Boat type?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think I can help you.”
“Evan is about six feet, longish hair, a hundred and eighty pounds and with a pretty girl.”
“That covers about half our people,” the woman said. Stone thanked her and they left.
“Time to wear out some shoe leather,” Dino said.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
They started to walk around Key West Bight, checking other marinas, but got nowhere.
“I think that’s what we need,” Stone said, pointing at a boats-for rent sign.
