“How’d you eat and shower?” Rosemarie asked.
“I had a hot plate and I took a whore’s bath in the lobby water fountain every night after everyone left.”
“Good to know that’s an option,” I said under my breath.
“The gate is locked,” Scarlet said. “I say you plow through and we go in guns blazing. The element of surprise is on our side, and there’s nothing quite like a good shootout.”
“Or I could just use the gate code and we could go in stealthily so we don’t get shot,” I said. “Getting shot isn’t my favorite thing.”
“I’ve never enjoyed it too much either,” Scarlet said. “But the drugs aren’t too bad. I enjoy morphine from time to time.”
“I’ve never been shot,” Rosemarie said. “I kind of feel left out.”
“I’m not sure having hot lead pierce your skin is one of those things you should be envious of,” I said.
Rosemarie didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.
“How do you know what the code is?” Scarlet asked, her head sticking out between the two front seats like a golden retriever.
“It’s taped to the front of the box,” I said. “I guess the manager got tired of people forgetting the code.”
“Doesn’t seem like much reason to have that fancy gate,” Scarlet said.
I typed in the code and the gate slid open soundlessly. I pulled through and then watched the gate close behind me with finality.
“Geez,” Rosemarie said. “Anyone have a bad feeling?”
“I ate that lasagna on the plane,” Scarlet said. “It’s making me a little gassy, but I figured no one would notice because Addison smells so bad.”
“I don’t smell any worse than the two of you,” I said. Though to be honest, I’d stopped being able to smell the moment I’d come up for air after falling in the water. I liked to think that God was protecting me.
The storage facility was laid out in an H pattern, with several long rows of metal buildings in between a single row of larger garages on each side. The sides of the H were for boats and RVs. The garage doors of the regular units were painted bright blue to match the metal roof and they were all numbered sequentially.
“Dad’s unit is number 907,” I said. “I’m going to leave the car parked here and creep around the side in case Vince needs help. You two stay in the car.”
“What if someone is holding a gun on us?” Rosemarie said. “What do we do then?”
“Use your best judgment,” I said. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just stay quiet.” I reached under the seat and grabbed the gun and made sure it was loaded. “Remember how I told you to stay by the van earlier, but then you didn’t?”
“Yeah,” Rosemarie and Scarlet both said.
“Make sure you actually listen this time. These guys are not nice.”
I opened the car door as quietly as I could and got out, pushing it closed behind me so it only made a soft click. I gave Scarlet and Rosemarie a final threatening glare, and then I crept around the side of the buildings until I was at the last row.
The sun was starting to go down, so it was easy to stay to the shadows. I didn’t hear voices until I was almost on top of them. I peeked around the corner and saw Jimmy’s gray Buick. But there was also a bright yellow Corvette parked haphazardly beside it.
Angelica leaned against the hood, movie-star perfect, wearing leather pants and a long-sleeved spandex top in yellow that showed her midriff and a giant diamond belly-button ring. She was old enough to be someone’s grandma, but she sure didn’t look it. I made a quick mental note to ask her about her skin-care regimen before the cops hauled her off to prison.
The trunk of the Buick was open and Jimmy and Bruce grabbed Vince from under the arms and hauled him out.
“Is he alive?” Angelica asked. She was all attitude and hair today.
“For now,” Jimmy said, and then they let him fall to the ground with a force that would’ve hurt if Vince had been conscious.
Bruce reached into the trunk and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters, and then he snapped the lock with ease.
Angelica tossed her hair and held up a finger. “If you kill Vinny, you’re gonna have the whole Savannah po-po breathing down your neck.”
Oddly enough, Angelica reminded me of my mother once she was on a tirade, minus the Puerto Rican accent. But there was something universal about a woman who was displeased with a man.
“The only thing that ties us to this whole mess is this storage locker,” Jimmy said. “Once it and Vince go up in flames, no one will be the wiser. Who knows, maybe Vince got drunk and passed out and accidentally set the fire himself.”
Bruce and Jimmy both chuckled, and Jimmy got a gas can from the trunk. The storage unit was full of stacks of brown file boxes, each carefully labeled. My dad was a creature of habit.
Angelica tsked disapprovingly and muttered something in Spanish. “Did I teach you nothing?” she asked. “You want to get away with something, you find someone to pay. Money talks, baby. But you’re a cheat scape.”
Jimmy narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “You mean a cheapskate?”
She waved a hand. “Sí, whatever. My point is, the cops come looking for you. Then they come talk to me. And I don’t like to talk to cops.”
“You worried about yourself?” Bruce asked, calculating.
Angelica smiled, and I felt the chill all the way to the bone. “You don’t have to worry about me, chacho. Angelica does what she wants. And no one will ever know I’m here.”
“We know,” Jimmy said.
I wasn’t sure where she’d pulled the gun from in all that spandex, but there was suddenly one in her hand.
“You wanna be a snitch?” she asked. “Who’s gonna believe you when we all know that a dozen people in Miami saw me
