“No idea.”
“By the way, Mrs. T. went online and put five hundred more dollars on the debit card. She thinks we’re onto something. That’s how we got the binoculars.”
“Skip, I hope we are on to something, but you do realize that investing fifteen hundred dollars in a venture that is expected to gross forty-four million isn’t exactly a commitment of faith.” She watched me, either to gauge my reaction to her comment or to make sure that I was treating her precious auto with the proper care.
“I get that. But she hasn’t said no to anything so far.”
“When daddy has a multimillion-dollar project, when anyone in our business has even a million-dollar project, there’s a lot of up front money. The lady should be happy to come up with whatever you want. The return on investment is going to be huge. Unbelievable.”
Return on investment. I remembered enough of my college business courses to know she was right. One hundred percent right.
And I remembered the story of Mel Fisher, who searched the bottom of the Florida waters for sunken treasure. His oldest son and his daughter-in-law were both killed in a dive while looking for gold. Now Mel was someone who seriously had an investment in his project.
She picked out a six-dollar file when cheap emery boards would have done the trick, but I guess she can afford it, even without the debit card from Mrs. T.
“So we’re going tonight?”
“James thinks we need to get to the bottom of the boat thing. Find out why O’Neill threatened us.”
Em took a deep breath as I pulled into the Cove. “I think he’s right.”
“Really?”
“I do.”
James was agreeing with Em. Em was agreeing with James. That almost never happened. I looked up above to see if the stars were aligned, but it was still daylight. I made a mental note to check on that later in the evening.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
We walked almost half a mile, the humidity so thick you could cut it with a knife. I’d worked up quite a sweat when we finally arrived.
“They could still identify the truck,” James said. “I think it’s best that we parked way back there.”
So far no one had noticed the plate. I mean, how often do you check your license plate? The guy we took it from had a white truck, we had a white truck. He had a Florida plate, we had a Florida plate. Unless we got stopped by the sheriff for some violation, we were good. And the other guy, whoever he was, would never be the wiser. Until he went to register for a new plate.
“Em, are you sure you want to be a part of this?”
“I’ve told you before, Skip, you need someone to bail you out if you get in trouble. I’ve kind of grown used to the job.”
In the dim light, I saw James frown. At least he didn’t agree with everything she said.
“It’s just three o’clock. Three o’clock, it’s lines up.” Em walked down the tree-lined street looking for clearances we could see through. “The boat should be here soon.”
“This isn’t private property, correct?” James was right in checking.
“Shouldn’t be. It’s a public street that runs right down to the water. And this is the public sidewalk that runs along this short section of the street.” I was pretty sure about this.
“So no doctor or guy on a golf cart can run us off?”
“I suppose they could, but we can stand our ground.”
“You guys have binoculars,” Em said. “I’ve got this.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the Colt.38 snub-nosed revolver.
“Preparation gets the job done.”
“And we’ve got the tools.”
We knelt across from a cement block house, a dim porch light eking out a meager halo. The rest of the street was dark and the moon was barely evident in the cloudy sky. Perfect for our hiding.
Talking in hushed voices, we swatted at mosquitoes and made plans if someone saw us.
“The dogs, what if they recognize the smell? What then?” James was thinking of those bare fangs.
“They didn’t bother any of the passengers. I think they only attack when they’re told to.” Em had already figured it out.
The night was deathly silent, only an occasional vehicle humming along back on the highway. I thought about the sound of a steam locomotive and the long blast of the engine’s horn as it traveled down to Key West. Chugging along, some of the cars would have carried the common folk, Skip and James. Crowded together with screaming children and their parents.
Then there would have been cars for the wealthier set, like Em and her dad. And finally there would have been cars for the railroad execs and the superrich. Must have been quite a time.
We heard the truck, the muffler maybe a little loose. The beams swung from the main road and even though we couldn’t see it, we knew someone was pulling into the motel. Or the suites. Or whatever they were. And I could hear high-pitched whines, like someone almost crying.
“What?” I whispered.
“Doesn’t sound human,” James remained kneeling, staring through the break in the hedge and trees.
Again I could hear it. Like a little baby just starting to cry.
There was a rattling of metal and I put the glasses to my eyes, scanning what I could see of the vacant lot.
“Over there.” James was pointing to the northeast corner of the fencing. The same place we’d climbed over yesterday and landed almost in the lap of Dr. James O’Neill and his sidekick.
I looked and saw the gate opening. It could have used a little WD-40 as it squeaked and groaned, the hinges rubbing metal on metal.
“There are the whiners.”
Sure enough, two dark dogs-I would have guessed Dobermans-came parading through the entrance. Short ears and a stub for a tail, they whined, straining at the leashes that one man held in his hand. I was pretty sure it was the guy that James laid out when he hit him with the palm of his hand.
“What if they-”
“They won’t, Skip. Anyone could walk this street or sidewalk. They can’t just attack everyone.”
I just prayed that those two dogs didn’t have a good memory of our smell from two nights before.
As I reflected on that spirited evening, I saw the pinpoint of light maybe half a mile out on the water. It got bigger by the second, and I was sure it was the boat.
Em strained to see it without the glasses. She kneeled down beside me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Want to share?”
What the heck, she’d let me drive the Porsche.
“It’s a big boat, maybe bigger than the other night,” I said.
The boat slowed, and I could hear the twin props kicking in to slow the vessel. The captain had probably thrown her into reverse. The vessel was now almost coasting to the dock. The man with the dogs tied the leashes to a post, then threw a rope to someone aboard.
And the cast of characters got larger as Em handed me the glasses. I observed another person walking in from the Ocean Air gate. Magnified and in the light of the boat, I could make out his stiff appearance, and what appeared to be salt-and-pepper hair, a beard, and mustache.
“Can’t prove it, but I think it’s Dr. Malhotra.”
“Guy who shares the building with O’Neill?” James peered into the darkness.
“The same.”
“The plot thickens, grasshopper.”
