He nodded, scooping up a stack. “About $101 worth of groceries?”
I grinned. “Probably three times that, but yeah, break as many bills as you can.”
“We could probably use a car,” Tank suggested.
“Billy’s tied up,” I said. “But why don’t you go with Paul and have the Uber driver take you to the nearest car rental after dropping him off at the Publix. You can pick him up on the way back.”
Tank and DJ picked up a stack of bills and we exited the boat, each heading in different directions. I went to the marina office and paid cash for three nights. It came to a little over $400. Then I stopped at the fuel dock on the way back and asked if the hose could reach the Revenge at the end. The dockmaster said it would reach the whole face dock.
“I’ll need about three hundred gallons,” I told him.
After that, I went back to the boat and powered up the laptop while I waited for him to unroll the hose.
I had an email from Chyrel and one from Jack Armstrong. I opened his first. In it, he explained that work was going well on the ship, but the cabin renovation might take a little longer. He said to not plan on arriving until the following Monday.
I wondered at the necessity of it. Odds were that whatever happened with Alberto, he’d be gone from us in a short time, and there was little that Savannah or I could do about it.
In the email from Chyrel, she said that they were at the Rusty Anchor but would be underway shortly. The time stamp was several hours ago, so they were likely halfway to Fort Myers already.
She went on to list nearly a dozen rehab centers in the Fort Myers area, which surprised me. Looking at the addresses, I immediately dismissed half of them—they were too close. Then I noticed one that was in Fort Myers Beach, well out of town, out on Estero Island.
“Ahoy Gaspar’s Revenge,” a voice called from outside.
I stepped out into the cockpit and saw the dockmaster there with the fuel pump hose. I opened the access hatch and removed the cap, then took the hose from him.
“About three hundred gallons?” he asked.
“No more than that,” I replied. “We’re at about half a tank now.”
“Roger that, Captain,” he said. “I’ll start the pump and set it to shut off at three hundred. It’ll probably take a good ten minutes. How do you plan to pay?”
“No hurry,” I replied. “I’ll pay with cash.”
He disappeared back toward the little shack in the center of the dock. I squeezed the trigger on the nozzle and wedged the cap under the trigger to keep it open.
When the pump stopped, I removed the nozzle, closed the fuel cap and door, and set the nozzle up on the dock. I could see the dockmaster was busy bringing in another boat, so I went.
I searched for the facility on Estero and called them. I gave the woman my name, then lied and said I had a friend who needed their help and asked how I could go about setting up and paying for her treatment.
“You’ll need to bring your friend in for an assessment,” the pleasant-sounding woman named Audrey said. “We have plenty of room just now, but the doctors only take new patients on a case-by-case basis.”
“Can I come in and meet with the doctors before I bring her in?”
“Well,”—she paused—“that’s a little out of the ordinary. We usually prefer to meet with the patient.”
I wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily. “I think when the doctors meet with me, they’ll understand why this is necessary.”
“Let’s see,” she said. “I can probably schedule it for next Wednesday.”
“I was thinking more like this afternoon,” I said.
“That’s out of the…”
“I’ll pay two thousand dollars for ten minutes of their time.”
“Huh?”
“Look,” I said. “This is very important. Can you arrange for the doctors to meet me at fifteen hund…er, three o’clock? Whether they take my friend as a client or not, I’ll make a two-thousand-dollar donation on the spot, before we talk.”
“This is very unorthodox, Mr. McDermitt.”
“What can I say? I’m an unorthodox sort of guy. Can you do it?”
There was a short pause. “Not at three,” she said. “But all three doctors will be in a conference at three-thirty. Can you come then? They’ll only be able to give you ten minutes.”
“That’s perfect, Audrey. I’ll see you then.”
I ended the call and went back out to the cockpit just as the dockmaster was walking up to the boat.
“Three hundred gallons, Captain,” he said, moving the nozzle to the center of the dock.
“What’s the damage?” I asked.
“That’ll be $947.70,” he replied.
I grinned. “Perfect. Hang on a sec.”
I went back inside and took another eleven bills from the open bundle. I handed the dockmaster ten of them and told him he could keep the change if he’d break the other bill into tens for me.
“Can do, sir,” he replied, then hurried away.
He was back before I finished wiping down the insides of the access hatch.
“Does the marina have a loaner car?” I asked, taking the bills from him.
“Two, actually,” he replied. “Need to get some groceries?”
“Something like that,” I said. “Is it available twenty-four hours?”
“No,” he replied. “Just while the marina’s open.”
I studied his features. He was average height and slim. Though he was probably only in his thirties, his face was lined from squinting in the sun and the short hairs at his neck were darker than on top. The patch on the front of his shirt said his name was Mark.
“You live aboard, Mark?” I asked.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “A Hunter 27.”
“One of the guys I’m with has one,” I said. “He named it Whole Nine Yards. Yours a twin keel?”
He grinned. Boaters liked to talk about their boats. “Cool name. Yeah, the twins make her a pig pointing to windward, but the shallower draft lets me
