 
### Gun Crazy

Jim Nash Collection #3

By P X Duke

Copyright 2016 P X Duke

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-928161-35-6

Disclaimer

What follows are works of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Places mentioned by name are entirely fictitious and purely products of the author's imagination, and are not meant to bear resemblance to actual places or locations.

### Gun Crazy

Jim Nash Collection #3

Contents

Vendetta

A Girl's Best Friend

Dead End

No Harbor

Dog Days

Startup Blues

More

About

Gun Crazy Collection #3

Vendetta

Jim Nash #9

_Jim Nash turns himself into an insurance investigator tasked with discovering if the death for a former drug dealer is cause for concern regarding a life insurance payout. The policy can't be paid until Nash has finished his investigation into the old man's former life. Along the way, Jim somehow manages to fall in love with the pretty and personable beneficiary. Secrets and lies conspire to keep Jim from learning the true story until the very end._

**SO FAR, THE RESORT** turned out to be a good place for me. Occasionally, the constant sun and sand and crashing ocean waves would get to be a bit much and I'd get to feeling like I needed a break. That's why I responded to the text from Robert asking if I'd like a bit of a change.

It was six years to the day since the explosion off Ensenada. It continued to weigh heavily on my mind. I was still in recovery mode. Maybe that's why I accepted. It was that, or I was a bastard for punishment.

He filled me in on the basics of the case, and left the rest up to me. He knew that was the way I liked it. When this latest gig ended, I'd be right back where I started, but that as all right with me. I needed the stability in my life while I sorted some things out in my personal life. The sorting was going to take a long time.

On the mainland I rented a car and headed north beneath the low cloud and rain. It was a good feeling to put the resort in the rearview. I wouldn't miss the cheap peddlers of drugs and women and crooked card games and the drunks and wife-beaters that for some reason liked to congregate at the place.

Sixty miles up the road, at Key Largo, I followed the sweeping left towards the mainland. The driving didn't get any better. More low cloud, rain, wind, and poor visibility continued to make for a miserable trip. I made the Gables in another hour, but only barely.

According to Robert, the trust company was a little edgy about going public with their own investigation, given the nature of the drug business. That's what their dead client had gotten himself into back in the late '80s. And that's why I ended up hired to do the job.

Marco Espinoza was a drug dealer who managed to get out of the business alive and with a minimum of fuss. That he'd been shot to death in his home in The Gables only now was testament to his ability to keep his nose clean. In more ways than one, it appeared.

Many years ago, before his death and while he was still active in the drug business, he set up a trout fund for his only daughter. I suspected Robert had something to do with the trust company. Perhaps he sat on their board. I didn't ask. What he wanted me to do wasn't illegal. The outfit only wanted to make sure they had all the bases covered and the pink flamingos in a row before making the final payout to Espinoza's surviving daughter.

I checked into a boutique hotel on the main drag. I took time to scrape the stubble off, shower, and have a quick meal. I started in, refreshed and fed, with a short walk down the street to the local police department. I signed in and walked through the body scanner. A desk officer escorted me to the office of a Lieutenant Boyle, the detective in charge of the case.

Don Boyle was a tall, dark man with a sturdy build. If I was to get into a fight, I'd want someone like him at my back, even if he appeared to be a bit overweight and pink-faced as a result. After introductions, he expressed come confusion over the fact that I'd appeared out of nowhere with an interest in his case.

—The insurance company holding the policy on Mr. Espinoza wants a report on the cause of death before they make the payout. It's no big deal. If it's all right with you, after you're finished, I'd like to get a copy. I'll forward both reports to the trust company and they'll make the payout to the beneficiary.

—Well, if they're going to the trouble of paying for you, I have no problem with it. Right now, the case remains unsolved. It's too soon to say when we might get a lead.

—My being here isn't going to be a problem, is it?

—I know your name from a couple of the officers down here. They worked with you up north before you resigned. You're welcome to tag along for the investigation. It's up to you.

I didn't need to be told twice. The invitation would save me a lot of time. It was even better than a copy of the police report. I gladly accepted Boyle's offer and shook hands to seal the deal.

Boyle filled me in on what he knew about Espinoza. That he'd finally ended up in prison for his crimes. That he'd been a model prisoner the entire time. Following his release from prison around ten years ago, he'd purchased a huge estate on the edge of The Gables in a gated community. Since his release, he'd been keeping quiet. Living clean. Keeping out of trouble. The local PD left him alone. He was a bother to no one.

—Until two days ago, that is. He called in to report that someone was keeping watch on his house. We sent a unit out. The men left just before the patrol car showed.

—Was he able to get a look at the pair?

—Yeah. Tall. Six feet. Dark. Wearing tan overcoats in the rain. He had no idea about them. Never saw them before. The officer spent some time driving around the area thinking they might have moved off temporarily. They came up with nothing.

—That's the end of it, then.

—Well, Espinoza wasn't the kind of guy to get all excited about a couple of men keeping an eye on his house. He could handle himself. His background made sure of that.

—Yeah, but he was keeping his nose clean. No trouble, right?

—That's right. His call ended up being treated like any other prowler call. We logged it, and that was that.

—Uh-huh.

—The house staff came on duty at their regular time the next morning. One of them brought up breakfast to the bedroom and found him there. Dead in his bed. We got the call. Our investigation found him with two holes, likely from an automatic. Large caliber.

Boyle handed over the coroner's report. A quick look told me it pretty much said the same. Close range. Powder burns on his pajamas. The lab had the slugs.

—No reports from the neighbors on any loud noises? What about the staff? Do any of them stay overnight?

—No. Nothing. No overnight staff, either. We pretty much canvased the neighborhood. No one noticed anything unusual. No delivery vehicles. Nothing out of place with vans or trucks. Nothing.

—What about the one who brought up breakfast? Anything unusual with her?

—Not a thing. She said the old boy spent his days writing. Maybe he was writing his memoirs.

If anyone in Espinoza's past learned he was writing a memoir, they might be upset about it. Upset enough to make sure it never got published.

—Yeah, and maybe someone who knew what he was up to didn't like it.

—That's a possibility, all right. I can't imagine someone who managed to make good on an escape from the drug business not having his share of enemies.

The book idea sounded more plausible.

—Especially when he was writing a book about it.

—He flew drugs in from Central and South America. Right past the Coast Guard's nose back in the day when it was possible. Now the same thing is being done by small submersibles. He pissed off more than a few people because of the volumes he was importing. They couldn't match it. Worse, he was getting away with it on a regular basis. A lot of them went out of business or moved somewhere else because of it, believe it or not.

—So he's probably still got his share of enemies.

—Plenty who wouldn't forget, I'd bet.

An officer came in and handed Boyle a slip of paper.

—Well, thanks for sharing your information. I appreciate it.

—No problem. If I come across anything else, I'll let you know.

Boyle concentrated his attention on the note. Before I could leave, he waved the paper at me.

—By the way—

—Yes?

—Espinoza's daughter arrived in town about an hour ago. She was living in a city up north with her aunt. Apparently she had no idea the old man was her father until the insurance company contacted her.

That was interesting. A daughter who had no idea she was related.

—I believe she's at the house. Christie Kent is the name she goes by.

I returned to the hotel and enjoyed an early dinner in the overpriced boutique hotel's dining room. I climbed the stairs to my room, showered and dressed. I checked in with Boyle. There was nothing new with the case. The two men hadn't been located. The slugs held no clues.

I called the insurance company and inquired about the terms of the policy the old man bought for the daughter. There was nothing earth-shattering in the pretty much standard contract.

A cab took me to the Espinoza residence. He admitted it was one of the places they talked about among themselves, but few had seen. We were buzzed through a locked gate. The driver followed a paved and treed drive to the main residence. Now I knew why neighbors hadn't heard a thing. I got out and the cab departed.

An older woman answered the door.

—You must be Mrs. Oleg. I'm working for the trust company that has the policy on Marco Espinoza. Can I come in? I'd like to ask you some questions about Mr. Espinoza.

—I don't think now is a good time with everything that's happened today. I'm still in a state of shock. And with Miss Kent here now, it's been a really trying day for all of us.

—Would it be possible to speak with Miss Kent? The sooner I can wrap this up, the sooner Miss Kent will get paid from the proceeds of the policy.

—I think tomorrow would be best for all of us. Surely you can understand. What's happened over the past few days has been a shock for everyone.

—Then my trip out here this evening has been for nothing.

A voice in another room interrupted the woman.

—Who is it, Mrs. Oleg?

—It's a Mr. Nash. He says he works for the insurance company.

—Very well then. I'll talk with him. Please show him in.

A tall, dark-haired woman waited at the base of the stairs. I got closer and discovered her dark eyes matched her long hair. A huge welcoming smile adorned her pretty face. She looked to be in her mid-to late-twenties. Perhaps thirty at the most. Mrs. Oleg departed and we were left alone.

—I wanted to talk to someone who could give me information about Mr. Espinoza. My father. I understand he was my father. Apparently I'm quite wealthy now that he's dead.

—Yes, he was your father.

—So you're from the trust company. What are you able to tell me?

A slight smile quickly replaced a frown. I hesitated. It allowed her to go on.

—My aunt always told me that my father's name was Kent. My mother and father both were killed in a swimming accident. She was pulled away and drowned in a rip tide. My father swam out to save her and was swept away, too.

I didn't interrupt the woman. It was information I didn't have.

—I can't imagine why my aunt kept the secret from me. I think it would have been better if I had known.

—She probably thought it was best for everyone. And your real father must have, too.

I allowed myself to become lost in the woman's soft voice and easy, friendly manner. Her smile was positively engaging. I couldn't understand why anyone would have misled the beautiful woman standing in front of me.

—Mr. Nash, I'd still appreciate it if you would tell me everything you know.

How could I not go along with her request?

* * *

**CHRISTIE TOOK MY** arm and led me into the living room. She sat down beside me on the sofa. She didn't let go of my hand. Our knees touched, briefly.

—Can I get you anything before you start?

—I think I have everything I need right here.

I allowed Christie to take the lead.

—The trust company told me that I'd be quite a wealthy woman because of Mr. Espinoza—I mean, my father's—bequest. This is all news to me. As you might already know, according to my aunt, I thought my parents had drowned in an accident. I can't imagine why she would have kept the secret all these years.

It was news to me. I didn't know any of it.

—Your aunt must have thought it would be for the best. Obviously, your father thought so, too, whatever his reasons.

I didn't want to get into the drug smuggling and the time old man Espinoza had spent in prison. I allowed her go on.

—It's quite a shock to wake up and learn that everything I've been told was a huge falsehood. I went to bed with a regular life—well, as regular as a dancer can have. That's how I supported myself. I woke up wealthy and with a completely new and unknown family.

Her grip on my hand tightened. It was obvious she was still unsettled at receiving the news. Her head tilted back to rest on the sofa. I surrounded her hand with my own.

—I understand how the information has affected you. You're still trying to figure how everything will fit into your existing life.

—Do you have any experience with this sort of thing, Mr. Nash?

—Call me Jim. No. Never. You seem like a very nice person, Christie. I'll do what I can.

—In that case, please begin.

I got up from the sofa and offered my hand. She took it and followed me outside. We walked around the yard, past the pool and the outbuildings. We followed a pathway into a small treed area. We could look out over the entire yard towards the house. Someone else must have thought the same. An area of trampled-down grass surrounded two of the trees.

I explained what I learned about her father from Detective Boyle. Christie took the news well. She didn't become upset. She must have realized that there was nothing she could do about it in any case. It was all old history by now.

—Your father certainly had a beautiful home.

—He did, didn't he?

Christie turned and looked up at me. Dark brown eyes examined my face. She reached to touch me. I didn't turn away. Again, I took her hand in both of mine. I continued with what I knew of her father.

—You're what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? That long ago, your father—Marco Espinoza—took out a trust fund in your name. It was a lump-sum deposit, from offshore accounts.

—Yes.

—Shortly after that, he was indicted on money laundering charges, drug smuggling, bribing police and federal officers. Importing without the proper authorizations. Income tax evasion.

I paused, but she didn't interrupt.

—Someone must have tipped him off, because the trust predates any of that. Just about everything the government could throw at him, they threw. Some of it landed and stuck. Some of it didn't. Overall, it took the government about ten years to put him away.

—Why did the trust continue to exist?

—It could never be proved that the money came from the proceeds of crime. Oh, they tried, all right. But nothing came of it. Eventually, they stopped trying, and now, you have the result of it after all those years.

—I don't recall ever reading about any of that.

—Well, you were quite young. It's likely your aunt prevented you from seeing any of it in the papers or on television.

—It's getting chilly. Let's go back to the house.

I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at me and smiled again. I walked along with her. She took my arm and held my hand the entire way. When we arrived, she disappeared into the back of the house and returned minutes later. She was still wearing my jacket.

—I gave Mrs. Oleg the rest of the day off. Why don't you sit down and I'll be right back. I won't be long.

Christie must have made her way silently down the stairs. When I finally saw her, the little black dress she wore was certainly doing its job. It fit her perfectly. The hem was barely above her knees—just high enough to say it's all there somewhere. Sheer stockings covered a dancer's fine, long legs. Heels only emphasized her legs and her height.

—You look fantastic. In fact, you make everything in here look cheap by comparison.

She hesitated for just a moment. Then she smiled and blushed before replying.

—I had to think about that. Thank you. It's a wonderful compliment. Where will you be taking us?

I couldn't help matching the grin she turned on me.

—Is that your way of asking me on a date?

—Well, I didn't put this old thing on for just anyone now, did I?

I guessed not. She sat close by me during the cab ride. On the way to my hotel we talked about the city and how it had changed over the years with its deco hotels and trendy restaurants.

—If you'll wait for me, I'll be down in a minute. I won't be long.

I almost ran up the stairs to my room. When I returned, I took the elevator. I checked the waiting area. Christie was nowhere to be found. I turned to look again, and there she was, half-way down the staircase. She'd paused for effect, pretending to look for me. I hurried to the bottom of the stairs to meet her.

—It's all right. I'm here now. You can come the rest of the way.

She blushed all the way down. I reached out a hand and she took it for her final two steps. She stopped in front of me. I still couldn't believe my eyes.

—Will you help me with this? I found it in a shop on the mezzanine.

I draped the throw over her shoulders. She squeezed my hand and thanked me.

—I want to pick you up and carry you right back up those stairs.

It was my turn to flush beet-red.

—If you're going to do that, I wish you'd use the elevator. In the meantime, why don't we go for a walk?

We strolled arm in arm for only a couple of short blocks. We stopped often to look into windows and clasp hands and lightly lean against each other. We entered a small, intimate restaurant I'd discovered nearby. We settled side by side into a tiny, cramped booth. We didn't mind. Our bodies touched. By the time we were ready to leave, we were both on edge yet still wary.

—Where would you like to go now?

Her arm circled my waist and I did the same.

—Take me back to your hotel. Perhaps you can restrain yourself from carrying me up those stairs. If you like, I'll walk with you to the elevator.

She looked up at me and smiled.

—Can you run in those shoes?

—I'll try for both of us.

Neither of us ran. We continued our slow walk, staying close, bumping into one another, stopping to hug and to kiss and to allow roaming hands to wander and wonder what might lie beneath.

I feigned sleep, yet wanted to open my eyes to take Christie in. She surprised me by throwing back the white sheets, revealing a perfectly-tanned, tall, well-shaped dancer's body with long, gorgeous legs. She sat on the edge of the bed and turned to look at me with a smile and nothing else.

She hesitated while I turned towards her and then made her way to the window. She stretched a taut dancer's body and sighed languidly before flinging open the curtains. She turned and caught me with eyes wide open.

She draped a forearm over her breasts. With the other she covered her middle. Halfway to the bed, she halted.

—What would you like for breakfast?

Both arms fall. She allowed me to look for a couple of seconds, and then slowly she made her way back to bed. She stopped at the edge and waited. I swung my legs over the edge and she settled into my lap.

I kissed my way to her breasts and hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment.

—The scent of you is amazing.

—It's a wonder, considering.

She smiled. Already I had a huge grin plastered over my face.

—Considering what?

She ran her fingers along my chin.

—Considering you know what. Let's take a shower.

When the water ran cold, I picked her up and carried her back to our bed.

It was late in the morning by the time we made our way to Espinoza's mansion. Although, I guess I had to stop thinking of it as his, and start thinking of it as belonging to Christie. We retired to the bedroom only minutes before Mrs. Oleg knocked to announce breakfast.

—Leave the tray by the door, Mrs. Oleg. I'll get it shortly.

She didn't hurry to get back in bed. Instead, naked, she made her way to the balcony doors and pulled them open. Sunlight streamed through the window. A fresh breeze floated past the filmy curtains.

Christie made sure to give me a perfect view, front and back, and she knew it, too. By then I had both eyes open and a wide smile on my face. I propped my head on an elbow. She kept smiling as she made her way to bed.

—Have you had your fill yet?

She climbed on the bed. She didn't get under the covers.

—Not yet, but I think I will in a bit.

She laughed and pulled down the sheets and snuggled against me.

—Your breakfast is getting cold.

—Not if you're planning on being my breakfast.

We ended up feasting. After, I sat on the edge of the bed and collected my clothes. Across my back, her fingers traced a gentle pattern the entire time.

—Come on. It's time for a shower. I'll help you wash away our sins.

We took our time dressing. When I finished, she straightened my tie and ran the back of her fingers across the stubble on my chin.

—Tonight I'll help you shave.

How could I say no to that?

—All right, but first we're going out for dinner.

—First? Or after?

I didn't ask if it would be after the shave, or before something else. With an impish look she kissed me on the cheek and opened the bedroom door. Together we walked past the cold food on the breakfast tray. I took my turn to kiss her on the cheek and, arm in arm, we descended the stairs in almost perfect harmony. Mrs. Oleg hovered at the bottom. I didn't see any sign of disapproval cross her face.

I knew, because I checked.

Maybe it was too soon to get involved again. It had been six months since the yacht's explosion had taken everything from me. Even if the stars were aligned properly, what were the chances that anything good would come of this? I could only hope. I put those thoughts out of my mind for now. There was plenty of time to worry later.

We sat out by the pool and relaxed in the cool shade. We talked about life and love and growing up and settling down. It was as though we'd known each other a long time, yet too, we knew we were just beginning.

—I feel safe with you, Jim. And comfortable. It feels like I've known you forever.

Her open honesty surprised even me. Perhaps it was time to let myself get involved again. She got out of the deck chair and stood beside me. I looked up, drinking her in with my eyes.

—I'm comfortable with you, too. I don't understand it, but I'm not going to push it away, either.

I wouldn't, either. I'd already made up my mind. I reached for Christie's hand and she allowed me hold it. I sat up and swung my feet onto the patio.

—I think you're still thirsty, too.

Two shots rang out. There was no time to react. The gunshots appeared to come from the grove of trees we'd visited earlier. I ran inside to retrieve my handgun. I lined up on the grove. There was no one. Nobody. Nothing. Not even shadows.

Christie slowly settled into the deck chair. I turned in time to see the pained expression overtaking her.

—We have to get you into the house. You'll be all right. Don't worry.

I hurried to help her up from the lounge chair. I wanted her inside in case there were more shots. She reached for my hand, then dropped it. I draped my arm around her waist. She would have fallen to her knees were I not holding onto her.

—Come on. You need to get out of sight.

I didn't want to admit it. I couldn't believe it. Christie was dying in front of my eyes. She kept looking at me. Her hand went to my face and rubbed at the stubble.

—I knew I should have shaved you first.

Her hand fell away. Her body went limp. Her eyes stayed focused on my face, unseeing. She died while I was holding her, in my arms, trying to protect her.

I yelled and cursed and gently carried her limp body into the house.

—Mrs. Oleg! Call 911. Now!

She didn't answer. Mrs. Oleg had disappeared.

I called for help and then made for the grove of trees where I thought the gunshots had originated. Cigarette butts were discarded over a small area of short, trampled grass. The shooter had waited in ambush before pulling the trigger. By the time I returned to the house, the EMTs had arrived. Only moments later, Boyle showed up.

—The shots came from over there.

I pointed to the trees.

—Just so you know, I walked over, but I didn't touch anything. Someone waited quite a while to get a shot.

Boyle looked puzzled.

—What were you doing here?

I didn't answer right away. He must have sensed my discomfort.

—Never mind. If I need to know, I'll ask you about it later.

—Thanks, Detective. I appreciate that.

—You won't be leaving town any time soon, I trust.

I headed back to the hotel. I couldn't eat. I couldn't drink. I wandered around in a daze until the house dick asked if I was all right. I said I was fine, and finally climbed the stairs to my second-floor room.

Boyle phoned with news of Espinoza's old drug-running partner. The man had been shot in New Jersey a day ago. Two shots. Apparently the slugs matched those found in the old man.

This put a whole new slant on the murder of Espinoza and his daughter. The files of the two men were re-examined with a new fervor. Their drug-running activities up and down the east coast were reviewed and studied. Nothing stood out to identify anyone special. At the same time, all of his former cronies still alive were more special than ever. Even so, we were at another dead end.

Boyle hadn't yet released news of Christie Kent's death. Perhaps if he had, the phone in the Espinoza residence might have stopped ringing off the hook with offers of online magazine articles, screenplays, even made-for-TV movies.

By then, Mrs. Oleg had returned. She fielded the calls like an expert, even though she too had been badly shaken by the murder of Espinoza's daughter.

* * *

**CHRISTIE'S DEATH IN** in my shook me to the core. I was longer in control of my faculties. I'd been unable to protect her. As with the other women in my life that I'd once cared for, she'd been taken from me by death. Once again, I'd lost everything. I had nothing left to offer up. Nothing to sacrifice.

My self-pitying, sorry-assed reveries were interrupted by a call from Boyle. He wanted to meet to run through some video footage of the area at the front of old man Espinoza's gate. The CCTV footage we viewed revealed two men climbing into a car and driving off in a hurry.

I didn't ask for Boyle's permission. Instead, I made a note of the plate and called an old friend in the DMV back in the city. In an hour I had an address and a name. It seemed strange that a hit man would use his own car. Hell, in this day and age, they usually stole one or used a motorcycle with a getaway driver.

I made my way back to the hotel parking lot, fired up the rental's GPS and punched in the address. In twenty minutes I was in front of an older Spanish-style apartment building in the outskirts of the Gables.

I verified the plate, drove around the block, and parked two spots behind the car. I began my stakeout in the heat of the afternoon with no water, no food, and no bathroom break anywhere in the picture. Four hours later, I'd developed a hateful mood to go along with everything else I was suffering.

My bladder was about full to bursting just in time to get my reward. Two men in dark suits strolled down the driveway. They halted at the sidewalk, scouted the street, and completely missed me during their look-see. They climbed into their car and began nosing it into the street. I stomped on the accelerator and jammed on the brake. Their vehicle was blocked with nowhere to go.

I remember thinking, _Who uses revolvers any more_ , and then everything went to hell. The car reversed in a hurry, a foot must have jammed down the accelerator, and the car slammed against the car behind it as it careened into the street. In slow motion the passenger reached across the driver and begin firing in my direction.

I fished for my automatic and dialed up full auto with my thumb. When I finished, the mag was empty and I was frantically searching for number two to back it up. During the silence, I discovered there was no need.

The engine on the shooter's car had to be revving at full speed. The passenger door hung wide open. A body lay sprawled half in and half out. The driver hunched over the wheel. The exploded air bag hung like a limp balloon. I dialed up 911 and requested police and an ambulance.

There was no pulse on the driver. The passenger mumbled and groaned. I bent to listen to the words. It sounded like a mix of Spanish and English. Nothing the man said made any sense.

The sirens grew louder. I didn't have much time. I stuck my foot against the man's stomach. He let out a painful groan and drew up his legs.

—Talk. Talk or you'll never say another word. There's only the two of us, so it won't go anywhere else. If you don't talk, you'll die right here. I'll see to it personally.

I dug my foot harder into his gut and pulled it back.

—Talk, you son of a bitch.

The sirens were louder and I was getting nowhere.

—Talk or die.

I kicked out again. I didn't know if I had anything left in the magazine. I pulled back the hammer and pressed the muzzle against the man's head. I would have pulled the trigger but for the bullet I took in the shoulder. I came to in the hospital under the watchful gaze of Detective Boyle.

—You don't look so bad after all, Nash. In fact, you clean up pretty good.

—Thanks for that vote of confidence, Detective.

—Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to force me to do my job?

His hand went to my bandaged shoulder and rested on it.

—All of a sudden I get the feeling that you do your job the same way I used to do mine. But if you insist—

I removed his hand and began spilling my guts, outlining my suspicions of what happened. I didn't have much to go on, and I wasn't happy to learn the shooter was alive.

—The one you leaned on survived. By the time we got there both of you were passed out. Your bloody shoe and bleeding shoulder clued me in to the rest. Did he talk?

—No. Not a word. I tried real hard, though. Is he in here too?

—Yeah, he's just down the hall.

I tried getting out of bed, but Boyle kept me down by pressing on my injured shoulder.

—All right. I get the picture. Were you able to get him to talk?

—I already told you. No. Why are you holding me back? I'll find out what he knows or he'll die shaking his head.

—That's not the way you want it for Christie's sake, I'm sure. Is it?

I looked at him, surprised by his knowledge.

—You know.

—Of course I know. I'm not stupid, Nash.

—So what do we do now?

—Well, we have his name, and his brother's name. They're from up north too. But that was all in their wallets. He refuses to say a word.

—Brothers? What the hell? They looked Mexican to me. Are they?

—Yes.

—So possibly they're connected to the drug game. But they're too young to have had anything to do with Espinoza's drug dealing.

—You're right about that. There's got to be something we're missing.

So even Boyle agreed with me.

What could it be that kept two men, young brothers, on the trail of old Espinoza after all these years? And why in hell had it involved his daughter? The whole thing didn't make sense by any stretch of my imagination.

Boyle wasn't finished with me.

—You got to know the girl, Nash. What did she tell you? Did she know anything about her real family at all? Did she tell you anything?

I tried to sit up, but I gave up the effort as another dizzy spell took over.

—Relax, Jim. There's no need to keep going. It seems to me that it's finished now.

I wasn't convinced just yet.

—So far, we haven't found any connection between the old man and his daughter and the two thugs. One thing, though, and that's the slugs. They all match. They're from the gun one of the shooters had on him.

—Your lab must have gone gangbusters on the last slugs. How long has it been?

—They put a priority on it for me. I have a connection.

I think I might have known what Boyle meant when he mentioned his own connection. I thought back to Allie and the connection we once had.

—The girl still doesn't figure. And those two thugs flying out here just to take care of her? What's the connection? Was she putting on an act?

—She maintained she didn't know who her father was. I believed her. I still do. It has to be something else. What it was I have yet to find out.

—Well, we still have the other shooter in a room down the hall. I can try to worm it out of him. It won't be easy.

Someone knocked on the door and Boyle left the room. I heard mumbling through the door and then nothing. Boyle returned, his face ashen.

—What is it? Another body? Who?

—It's about our friend down the hall.

—The second shooter? What about him? Did you find something out?

By the look on his face he didn't want to tell me.

—Yeah. The second shooter. He died a few minutes ago. We got nothing.

Any hope of learning anything more disappeared, just like that. Beyond the fact that the same gun had produced three bodies, there was nothing to tie it all together. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. I heard Boyle leaving the room. I didn't open my eyes again for another eight hours. By then my shoulder had stiffened up and I needed a drink.

Boyle showed up with a bottle. He went to the nursing station and came back with a couple of glasses and an ice bucket. He poured two high ones and I settled back with a groan.

—How's the shoulder doing? I took one a couple of years ago. I know what you're going through physically. Mentally, that'd be anyone's guess after what happened to Christie.

—Thanks. And here's to busted-up shoulders.

I emptied the glass and he poured another. I gulped it down, too.

—I'm feeling better by far. All I need to do is get out of here.

Mid-afternoon a day later I walked out of the hospital and into Detective Boyle's office. The Espinoza file lay open in front of him.

—Take a look at this.

He handed it over and filled me in on what he had so far as I studied the file

—The brothers are Mexican. From an area of the country where Espinoza had one of his grow-ops back in the day. Both naturalized citizens in their late teens and early twenties. No police records. They were good boys, apparently. On a hunch we looked into their father. He seems to have disappeared in the last couple of weeks.

—I still don't get it. What would a couple of good Mexican boys want with shooting a former drug dealer? And then shooting his old partner?

—Come on. I'll buy you dinner and we can hash it out again.

Boyle took me to a hole-in-the-wall seafood place. We settled in to beer and surf and turf and more beer. By the end of it we were both a bit sloppy drunk.

—There's no point to anything that happened. No motive. No reason. The book Espinoza was working on wasn't even about his life in the drug trade. It was about old Spanish pirates and treasure hunting.

That's pretty much all we had by the end of our drunken evening. I stumbled back to the hotel and worked my way up the stairs. It seemed like it took forever. I'd no sooner gotten undressed than the phone rang. It was Boyle.

—What's going on? Have you got something new?

—In a way, yes. The father of the two boys showed up at the morgue. He's insisting on taking them home to be buried.

I agreed to meet him in an hour.

* * *

**BOYLE SHOWED UP** in the coroner's office half an hour after I did. He had an old man in tow. He was short and stubby and bent over. He used a cane to help him walk. I offered a chair and he sat down with a sigh that rattled as the breath escaped his lungs.

—Can I get you anything? You want a smoke?

—No, señor. Thank you.

—This is Jim Nash.

—I read about you. You killed my boys. Is it true?

—Yes. They tried to kill me.

—Si. Si. I know.

The old man sighed again, as though somehow resigned.

—It's bad.

He hesitated.

—What's going on? Why did they try to kill me? Why did they kill old man Espinoza and his daughter? Why did they kill his former partner?

—It's not so difficult to understand. My boys had to get rid of you. You got in the way.

—Got in the way of what? What, exactly?

— _Por favor_. The water.

The old man took a long drink as though trying to buy some time before having to explain. Boyle and I waited him out.

—Why? Why kill old man Espinoza? Why kill his partner? And what did that have to do with the reason for killing his daughter? They're all dead. Why? What could have been so bad that they all had to die?

—Because I'm still alive.

His statement made no sense. Either he was in some stage of an old person's mental anguish and befuddlement, or the old man was outright lying.

—I'd like a cigar now.

I looked at Boyle and he looked back. His shrug matched mine. Neither of us knew anything more than we did before we walked into the coroner's office. He dragged the old man off and took him downtown to cool his heels in jail.

He'd wait a long time for a cigar in the lockup.

Boyle checked in to let me know the old man stayed silent the entire time. He had no visitors. His sons were dead. His former life, such as it was, had been shattered. He ended up a tired old man with nothing left to celebrate.

After Espinoza's will was probated, I made sure to get a copy for my file. I took the opportunity to study it. By the end of the last page, it began to fit together like a summer camp jigsaw puzzle when the missing pieces were discovered.

I had some answers that needed cleaning up. I made a trip to the lockup and confronted the old man. He was as tight with his answers to my questions as ever.

—I have nothing to say. I won't answer anything you ask. Go away. I want to be left alone.

—In that case, let me tell you what I know.

The hateful old man wouldn't look at me. I could barely look his way knowing what I had learned.

—Espinoza's wife was your daughter.

He wheezed and grunted, acknowledging nothing.

—Well? How about it? Am I getting close?

—Si.

I waited.

—Is that it? Nothing more than a yes?

He refused to answer. He refused to even look in my direction. I felt the same about him. He was a hateful, miserable, disgusting excuse for an old man, too intent on his revenge to even be bothered attempting an explanation. All the same, I had one for him.

—Your daughter had a daughter. Your two sons killed her. They killed your own granddaughter. She was a wonderful person, full of life and laughter and love. I know all this, because I got to know her.

The old man held up his hand to stop me.

—She needed to die too.

I jumped up and knocked my chair over. I would have belted the despicable spectacle seated in front of me had I thought it would do any good. Sadly, I knew it wouldn't. My lip curled and my voice turned into a snarl.

—No one needs to die, you old fool.

I towered over him. He refused to be cowed. Eventually, I gave up. Boyle let me out of the cell.

—I think that last is good enough to hold him for a while, at least. With this latest, I think there was a conspiracy of some sort going on to cause the deaths of all of those people.

—I agree. Now all we have to do is figure out why.

He looked at me and shook his head.

—That's going to take some doing if you ask me.

I probably should have given up right there. If it hadn't been for Christie and the feelings I'd developed for her, I would have. I'd have jumped in my car and headed back on the two hour drive to the resort and my simple, safe, boring job as a house detective.

I didn't. Instead, I made some calls. When I hung up for the last time, I finally had the answers to Christie's senseless killing that I had been searching for. They weren't satisfactory. They didn't make sense. But they did tie up the case.

Way back in the seventies, the old man had traveled to an isolated area in a remote part of Mexico surrounded by high hills. The lush, green valley between proved to be an excellent grow area for marijuana plants to thrive and be harvested.

During Espinoza's time there, he met and fell in love with a local woman. She was young and beautiful and had fallen equally in love with Espinoza. The girl's father took exception to the outsider and his business in the area. He knew it would bring problems for his family and friends and neighbors.

Eventually, he gave Espinoza an ultimatum. Leave the area, or suffer the consequences. Espinoza had a decision to make. Should he ask the girl to come with him? When he met her at a secret rendezvous, she agreed to accompany him back to America. Once there, she lived out her life as a loving wife to Marco Espinoza and mother to his only child, a daughter named Christie.

Espinoza wasn't a stupid man. He knew he'd done something that might possibly lead to harm for his family. When his wife was killed in an accident, he shipped his daughter off to live with an aunt in a northern city. He cut all ties, and insisted that the aunt do the same in order to continue to receive the money to care for the child.

Christie grew up to be her own woman. She paid for her college tuition by taking up dancing. She made enough to use cash only, provide for herself, all while remembering to keep a low profile while doing it, as her aunt taught her she must.

All the while, Christie had no idea who her real father was. That is, until the trust company got in touch about the insurance policy purchased for her benefit. And that's where it all began.

An obit mentioned old man Espinoza. Someone must have noticed. Phone calls were made. Thus the dispatch of the killer sons to take care of their father's long-promised vendetta by killing Espinoza, his former partner complicit in the whole affair, and his surviving daughter.

Knowing about it didn't cure my heartache. Perhaps I shouldn't have allowed myself to become involved with a client, but it was too late. The damage had been done. I was alone with the guilt and the anger at having failed not only Christie, but myself.

I made two stops before pointing the rental south. The first left me with a stack of forms to fill out. I checked into an all-night coffee shop, settled in with a pen, and filled out paperwork until early morning.

My second stop found me back at Boyle's precinct office.

—I'd be forever grateful if you could do me a favor.

I handed him the stack of forms. He checked the top one, looked up at me, and shook his head.

—You just can't leave it alone, can you? I know all about that mess you got yourself into up north before you resigned. I heard rumors that you worked for the government for a while down here, too.

There was no sense lying about any of it.

—Yes, and yes. Next question?

—Leave it with me. If I have any questions, I'll call or come down for a visit. Do you like fishing.

—I don't know. I've never gone fishing.

He grinned.

—Yeah, neither do I, but it gets me out of the way for a while. That's all I need.

We shook hands a final time. I left with a heavy heart and too much time on my hands once again. I drove a very long two hours back to Vaca Key and the resort. At least I had somewhere familiar to be and a few friends that mattered.

That's all I needed for now.

Eventually, I knew I'd have to return to Mexico to clear up my own misgivings. I had to be certain that my own ghosts could be put to rest, just as I would eventually have to put Christie's.

###

**A Girl's Best Friend**

Jim Nash #10

_Jim has a brand new Private Investigator's license, but he can't use it in Nassau. After a briefing in the Big Apple on the diamond market, he heads off to the sunny paradise to try and dissuade a friend from flashing a blue diamond at one of his infamous parties. Minus a guest list for the more than forty partiers, they're all suspects in the murder investigation until Jim finally realizes that a women he knows could be the prime suspect._

**IT TOOK MORE** than a few months, but that was all right by me. I wasn't in any great hurry. I ended up taking Boyle fishing a couple of times before he drove down one last time to hand over the completed forms. He even included some references from a couple of the guys I used to work with. Just as I had, they'd seen the writing on the wall and left for greener pastures.

They found theirs with Boyle.

I mailed the forms off and had nothing to do but wait. Applying was the least I could do to get prepared before Robert called on me again. When my brand-new, shiny PI license and the concealed weapon license appeared in the mail, I wasn't surprised.

The paper made it legal for me to carry my firearm, even though what I used wasn't on the approved list. I promptly tucked the cards into my wallet and forgot all about them.

Strangely, it wasn't Robert who called with a job. It was the Indemnity Trust Company, making inquiries. My answers to their questions must have satisfied their curiosity, because when the interview was over, they asked me to work on another assignment for them. I checked with Robert, just in case, and got the green light to part-time it.

—They must have liked your work on the last gig, Jim. I had nothing to do with this one. You're on your own now. Just don't forget to show up at the resort when you're finished.

And that was that. I boarded a plane to the Big Apple and took a cab to the diamond district in Midtown Manhattan. I met with an owner recommended by the trust company, where I received a briefing on the history and relevance of diamonds in this century. A lot of the time was spent on blood diamonds, and how they fit into the modern diamond market scheme.

In other words, they didn't. And that was the problem. There were so many ways of getting around the embargoes that it was almost still a free-for-all. That wasn't my concern this trip. Instead, I was tasked to check up on Andy Anderson, who'd just insured his Canadian diamond for a million dollars. The trust company wanted some assurance that they'd made a wise choice.

I wondered why they waited until after the policy sale to do an investigation, but I guessed the idea was that the fee would encourage more individuals to take out insurance with Indemnity Trust. Who was I to argue? I wanted my payday, too.

With the briefing over, I hailed a taxi in front of the exchange building. Before I was able to open the door I was rewarded with a brief view of a pale young woman with long, dark hair. Her gorgeous, silk-clad legs were on display beneath the hem of a filmy skirt. She rushed past me and slammed the door in my face without saying a word.

Welcome to New York City, where ##thank you is a foreign phrase.

I managed to get to the airport with time to spare. It took too much time to clear security past the look-good-do-nothing inspectors. Hours later I was in a hurry to make my gate.

The reservation in first class put me across the aisle from the prettiest girl I'd seen in months. I closed my eyes for a little welcome shuteye and moments later I recalled the woman who had elbowed past me to claim my cab.

I looked again to be sure before settling in, trying to look nonchalant about the whole thing. I promptly fell asleep. I awoke to find the lighting dimmed in first class. Someone was using the opportunity to go through my backpack.

To my complete and utter surprise, it was my taxi thief, miss cute, and I had just caught her _in flagrante delicto_.

I pretended to sleep, all the while keeping one slightly slit eye on the woman. She'd obviously just begun her search, for it continued for a good five minutes. She opened and then closed every single pouch and piece of paper on or in my backpack.

Her red, lipstick-covered lips appeared to be moving in silent curses when she took the time to unpurse them. I endured it for as long as I could. I was about to reach for the overhead light when she placed the bag on the seat beside me where she'd found it and stood up. Obviously she had to be satisfied.

—Is there anything I can help you find?

The woman gasped. Her knee bumped against my pack and knocked it over. The contents spilled onto the cabin floor. I needed to teach her how to tie a knot. Before I could sit up to gather my things, she kneeled down and nonchalantly slipped something into the ample cleavage hidden beneath her blouse. From what I could see when I looked between the deep, white vee of her breasts, there was plenty of room for storage.

All I had to do was get my hands on them and the treasure—whatever it was—would be mine.

—Can I buy you a drink?

She glanced at me and looked away. The look on her face said she was still surprised that she found me awake.

—Drinks are free in first class. Don't you know that?

I was happy my alibi hadn't been discovered. I continued to show my ignorance.

—Well, in that case, would you like to dance?

She smiled and then laughed. I relocated my knapsack to the floor and she sat down beside me.

—Not right now. Perhaps in a bit.

Getting a smile followed by a laugh couldn't be all bad. She'd taken the seat beside me, after all. Detective that I was, I was too overwhelmed to think she might have an ulterior motive.

I summoned the flight attendant and ordered champagne. I tried not to drink too much to celebrate my good fortune in having such an attractive woman beside me. I plied her with liquor like it was water and hoped the altitude would do its duty. When she complained that the drinks were warm, I called for ice.

In thirty minutes I had her waltzing in the aisle to the bemused glances of the cabin crew as they returned in shifts to witness my antics in the almost empty first class cabin. In an hour, I had my hand inside her blouse and I'd retrieved the paper she'd taken from my bag. Following a quick look I carefully put it back under the watchful eye and waging finger of the head flight attendant.

—Sorry, I couldn't resist.

I sat back and dozed fitfully for the remainder of the flight into Miami. I woke in time to witness a stretch of A1A and Miami Beach on approach out the port window. My companion woke up and returned to her assigned seat.

In only a couple of hours I'd be winging my way to rendezvous with a cruise ship supposedly already docked in Nassau.

I made my way to the charter operator and caught another glimpse of miss cute. I knew it was her by the shape of the legs and the stay-ups covering her legs hanging beneath the skirt. She glanced at me, grimaced, and I was airborne in the Piper Navajo before I knew it. The woman continued to ignore me. How soon she forgot all about the stranger who only recently in the dark left fingerprints on her breasts.

She hurried past me after landing and click-clacked her way in high-heels across the tarmac. She climbed into a huge limo and that was the end of that. Or, it was, until the driver got out, opened the back door, and gestured for me to get in. It was time I introduced myself.

—I'm Jim Nash. I'm so pleased to finally meet you formally. Were you able to locate what it was you were searching for?

I held out my hand. An indignant look said she wasn't going to take it. She put on her dark glasses, looked out the opposite window, and ignored me.

Two can play at that game. Besides, I was already familiar with her breasts. What more could she possibly have to offer?

Perhaps I was grinning too hard, but I couldn't help it. I had no idea who sent the car for me. I also had no idea who the woman was sitting across from me. Unless the door was opened, she couldn't get any farther away.

—Excuse me, but you must be in the wrong car. I'm sure it was sent for me.

That went over like a lead balloon. She cast a haughty glance in my direction, deigned to frown, and followed it up with a grimace. She ignored me until I rolled down the window separating us from the driver and inquired whether the young woman in the back was rightfully there.

—Yes, sir. She is to be transported to the same place you are going.

—That's good. I was worried that I'd have to let her out at the next corner.

I closed the window and looked smugly at her.

—Let's try this gain. I'm Jim Nash, and you are—

She continued to ignore me.

—And you are a spoiled brat, obviously. Driver. Let this woman out here.

The girl harrumphed, the driver shook his head, and they both pretended I wasn't there.

—Let's try this another way. Who the hell are you, and where the hell are you taking me?

At that exact moment, the limo pulled up in front of a giant and trendy pink hotel the likes of which I'd never before seen unless it was in a movie. The woman scrambled past and opened the door.

—You're to come with me.

I got out behind her and followed a sweet pair of hips and legs as they purposefully clickety-clacked through the lobby towards the elevators. Damn but the woman did have great legs. I wondered what she might look like in a bathing suit.

—You clean up pretty good, all things considered. While you were sleeping I managed to get a look at the paper you stuffed down your ample bosom. The sheer bra was very pretty. It suits you.

She blushed, stuck out her hand, and I took it. I didn't let go until she told me her name.

—Pleased to meet you, finally, Megan. I'm—

—Yes I know who you are. Please follow me.

At the penthouse, she began introductions to her father.

—Jim. What are you doing here?

—Hello, Andy. Is this firebrand your daughter? You ought to put a short leash on her. I ended up fondling her breasts last night, and she wouldn't consent to share a late breakfast this morning.

Exasperated, Megan turned beet red and faced her father.

—Dad—

—No need for explanations, dear. I'm sure Jim had good reason.

—You're right, Andy. I had two of them.

It was my turn to smile sheepishly.

—Why don't we find a meeting room and figure out where we're going with this—and I don't mean your daughter's breasts. I think the hole I'm digging is deep enough.

Andy chuckled and motioned for me to follow him.

Andy reached a hand into a pocket and pulled something out. He flipped it in my direction. When I opened my fist, I discovered the million dollar uncut blue diamond on the flat of my hand. So this was what the trust company was so concerned about.

—Andy, you can't carry this diamond around like that. The insurance company won't let you. In fact, that's one of the reasons I'm here. Already there have been deaths related to the diamond. Do you want to be number four?

—Thank you, Mr. Nash. I've been telling my father that for months, ever since he inherited it.

Megan had followed us onto the privacy of the balcony. I guess she was entitled. Andy was her father, after all.

—Has he listened?

She didn't answer. I already knew, in any case.

—You know she's right, Andy. Why won't you listen? You're going to walk out of a bar, or pass out in a taxi, or get mugged. You'll end up in a back alley wishing you were dead. Whoever ends up with the diamond will get it cut, and it'll be gone and forgotten but for the insurance payout and a search that won't find a thing. Is that what you want?

—You sound just like my daughter. Megan. Jim. I'm throwing a party tonight. I want you both to attend. Dear, see if you can find a little black number in your repertoire for tonight. I'm sure Mr. Nash will appreciate it.

She looked at me and grimaced yet again. I checked the front of my shirt for coffee and my pants for urine stains. I graded myself and passed. What was her problem?

—Dad—

—No backtalk, daughter. I'm afraid I must insist. Now drop Jim off at his hotel. You'll pick him up and bring him to the party. Don't be late.

I followed Megan's length stride and twitching hips across the lobby and into the back of the limo.

—How do you know my father?

—A long time ago I did him a favor when he got himself in trouble in a not so good area of the city I worked in.

—A long time ago? You don't look that old. How old are you?

I took exception to the question and instead asked what time she'd be coming by to pick me up.

—Be ready. I'll knock on your door.

I managed to be ready, but I didn't allow Megan to knock on my door. Instead, I took possession of a wing chair in the lobby. When I laid eyes on her, I let her walk up half a flight of stairs to the mezzanine just so I could watch her turn and walk back down again. The woman was such a beautiful treat for my tired eyes. I called out to her.

—Megan. I'm down here.

At the bottom of the stairs I held out my hand. She ignored it and me. I managed to get the words out only an instant before she continued on past.

—You look fantastic.

And she did. Long, dark hair. Perfect makeup but not too much to spoil the look she was going for. But for the diamond earrings and a necklace that shimmered in the light, it would have been a plain look.

That wasn't all that shimmered. Her perfectly tailored dress emphasized a slim waist. It said there was more beneath it than imagination could bear.

Finally, she stopped and turned. I already knew it was for effect. I opened the door and treated myself as she climbed into the back of the taxi.

—Thank you.

Was she only pretending, or was that her idea of an ice-breaker?

—What happened with your limo?

—I gave the driver the night off.

Megan shifted in the seat.

—Are you going to tell me why you came all this way?

—I think you already know the answer to that. It was in that piece of paper I found tucked away beneath your blouse.

—You realize I was awake for that entire episode. I quite enjoyed it, actually. Your hands were nice and cool against my warm skin.

—I noticed, too. Your blouse was sheer.

—Don't let it go to your head.

I grinned and she blushed and all of a sudden we had what seemed to be an understanding.

—Why don't we start over?

I extended my hand.

—I'm Jim Nash. I'm a friend of your father's and I'm concerned for his safety.

She took it and held it for longer than I thought necessary.

—I'm Megan Anderson. And I'm concerned for my father's safety, too. Perhaps we can work together to keep him alive and his diamonds safe.

We chatted inconsequentially the rest of the way to the party. I left out the explanation about being employed by the company insuring the diamond. I was more concerned with Andy's safety given the extravagant nature of the parties I'd heard he hosted.

Tonight's turned out to be no different. I managed to keep up with Megan as she hurried through the entrance to the penthouse. Music performed by a small group in the front room of the huge suite contributed to the party atmosphere and the dancing.

A crowd of forty or maybe more milled and mixed in a room designed for twenty, maybe thirty if you were desperate. From what Megan told me, I doubted Andy knew any of the people he had invited. Pickpockets would have a field day.

—Take a look around, Megan. How many of these people do you know? How many do you think your father knows? Do you understand my concern now?

It wasn't long before I was drawn to Andy and the crowd surrounding him. He was in the process of tossing the diamond back and forth to anyone holding out a hand. It got tossed back without a concern for the dollar signs hanging off of it. I wondered if anyone even knew.

—I've got more upstairs. Why don't you all come along and I'll show you?

Megan hurried past me in an attempt to confront her father. Her attempt to prevent him from going upstairs fell on deaf ears. It was no good. I followed, only a step behind the girl. We were too late. Andy was already on his way up, followed by a smaller crowd rushing up the stairs ahead of us.

—Come on, Megan. We need to see this.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her up the staircase behind the crowd finding its way.

—Usually he keeps everything else in a safe in his bedroom. Come on, I'll show you.

Megan closed the door to the bedroom behind us. The noise from the crowd quieted within the walls of the huge room. It opened up onto a large balcony through French doors running the width of the entire suite of rooms. Anyone capable of climbing over the open balcony wall separating the rooms would be able to slip the simple door lock and enter unhindered.

Megan opened the wall painting on its hinges, revealing the safe behind it.

—It's a quality safe, Megan, but even so. It would be no challenge for a pro. All right. You've shown me.

I moved to go around her on my way to the door.

—Wait, Jim.

She dimmed the lights and waited in front of the door.

—Jim—

She reached out and I took her hands in mine.

—I know. It's all right.

—No. It isn't. I don't know why I'm being such a bitch. I suppose I was expecting another of my father's hangers-on, and you turned out to be his friend. I'm sorry.

She grinned up at me.

—And your hands really were nice and cool.

It was my turn to smile.

—I know. I noticed. You were wearing a sheer bra, remember? From what I could see, you have no reason to wear one.

She blushed.

—You are a devil of a man, aren't you?

—Maybe. But I think you liked it, even if it did take you this long to realize I'm an ally and not the enemy. Now come on, we need to get to your father's circus exhibition.

There were no other words I could have used. Andy was putting on a show for his guests. He had a row of diamonds strung out on a deep blue felt. They were stunning. The man had no shame. He had no smarts, either.

—I can't believe he's doing this. Is he drunk?

—He doesn't drink. He just likes to let everyone know the circus is back in town.

—Circus is right. And I think your father is the rube. Is there any chance he might have a guest list?

—Not a chance in hell. He invites people and waits to see who shows up. There's no guest list. There never has been one, as far as I know.

—Then we need to take video of every face in the crowd, upstairs and down. Now let's get back to your father's show.

Two of the women in the crowd moved off to the side pf the room. They became engaged in a heated discussion. Their loud voices almost overcame the cacophony surrounding Andy's performance with the diamonds.

—Who are they, Megan?

—The older one is my father's sister. She's my aunt Julia. The one young enough to be my sister is my father's latest fling. Her name is Sandy.

Both women were attractive in their own way. Julia had an air of quiet wealth and breeding about her. Sandy, the girlfriend, looked tired, but she was still a stunner. Lucky Andy.

It became obvious that Aunt Julia had a problem with Andy's latest. Perhaps she thought the woman would end up as his wife. That would certainly change the details of a will.

If there even was a will. Witnessing Andy as I did, I had my doubts.

Megan and I had become inseparable by the end of the evening. I didn't realize it until later, of course. I had been too busy attempting to get photos and as much video of the crowd as I could while not drawing any attention.

Eventually, the crowd drifted away. All was quiet in the huge, empty room. There wasn't a soul remaining. Andy was nowhere to be found. The diamonds must have been put away.

—Check your father's room, Megan.

A scream resonated through the penthouse coming from the bedroom. Megan sagged against the door frame for support with her diamond necklace clutched in her hand. Her voice was suddenly weak.

—Jim—

A look of horror had taken over Megan's pale face. Her lips moved. No sound came out. She continued to slide down the door frame until she collapsed on her backside. Her arms surrounded her knees, clutching them to her chest.

I made my way past her into the room. I halted immediately. On the opposite side of the bed, on the floor, Andy lay on his stomach. I advanced slowly, looking, scanning, being careful not to disturb anything, until I could see his torso behind the bed.

There was no sign of a struggle. A small pool of blood was evident beneath his rib cage. It no longer got any bigger. I checked for a pulse. There was none. His death had been quick.

—Call the police, Megan. And an ambulance. Hurry.

I already knew it was too late. I didn't tell her that. Instead, I took a closer look at the body while she was out of the room. I didn't disturb anything. I coldly inspected it for any signs of murder.

Andy's face was frozen in an expression of shock. He was fully dressed. It was obvious he wasn't planning on bedding anyone. I couldn't see anything to indicate anyone had been with him in the room. From what I could tell by the pat-down I gave his clothing, his pockets were empty of the diamond.

By the time I finished the brief examination, I was as clueless as when I first walked into Andy's hotel suite.

* * *

**I LET THE** local police do their job. As a former cop, I knew enough that answers wouldn't forthcoming for a while. Late in the afternoon, I checked in by phone. I inquired about suspects, and was immediately transferred to the detective in charge.

She did away with any pleasantries and asked right off how many guests were at the soiree the previous night.

—Thirty. Maybe Forty.

She didn't sound any too happy when she heard the numbers. I figured it confirmed what she was afraid of.

—Then that's how many suspects we have—less you and the victim's daughter since you were in the company of each other. You were together the entire time, right?

—All forty? I'm coming down. And yes, to the best of my recollection we were together the entire time.

She didn't say no.

I made my way to the police station in the back of a cab. I hoped I'd be able to get a few answers before heading back to the hotel and Megan. She'd taken a room there after her father's robbery and murder. I wondered about that, but I decided it wasn't worth a thought. I was certain she hadn't been thinking straight.

Detective Shayla Gavetti met me at the front desk and escorted me to her office. I didn't mind following this one, either. She had a long gait and the legs to go with it. Not a square inch of trouser-encased seat or thigh rippled with anything but muscle.

—I was wondering if perhaps you could explain your connection to this case, Mr. Nash.

—Andy turned into a bit of a playboy when he came into a whole bunch of money some years ago. He pulled up stakes and went on a world class spending spree. I have no idea how much of the family fortune might remain. In any case, that's not my concern. According to his daughter, his parties were legendary.

—I've crossed paths with the man a couple of times. She's right. His parties really were legendary.

I wondered if she knew personally, or only by reputation. It was a question for later, perhaps.

—He came into the diamonds completely by accident when a mining property the family owned in Canada was discovered to be sitting on several pipes. The stone he carried was rough and uncut. He kept it in his pocket and liked to show it to anyone who would listen.

—So I've been told.

So she had managed to interview some of the guests, and probably the aunt and daughter, too. Good to know.

—Anyway, my company, Indemnity Trust, insured the diamond for a million dollars. Because I knew the man, I was sent here to try and talk some sense into him. He barely listened. He wouldn't listen to his daughter, either.

—Mr. Nash, you were downstairs in the main room the entire time?

—Well, I was until I saw a group of people surrounding Andy. There were a couple of women hanging off of his arms. He was showing them the diamond. He announced that he had more to see upstairs. A small crowd, including the women, followed him.

—And that's the last you saw of him?

—Not at all. Megan was very concerned for her father's safety. She went to rush up the stairs. I followed. We were delayed by the rush of people traipsing after Andy.

She took me into Andy's bedroom where she showed me the safe in the wall. We exited the bedroom on our way to the exhibition Andy had been putting on.

—And then what did you do?

—You don't think—

—I'm just asking questions, Mr. Nash. I want answers.

—So do I, Detective.

Gavetti deftly changed the subject. I was impressed.

—So, Mr. Nash. Did you meet any of the guests?

—Megan pointed out Andy's sister. Julia. Another woman, Sandy, apparently was Andy's latest fling. He spent the rest of the evening, as far as I could tell, with her. They danced, and then they went out on the first-floor terrace. They eventually returned to the room and separated.

—Anything else?

—Now that you ask, Detective, I don't believe I ever saw the woman come back into the front room. We followed Andy and the crowd up the stairs after that.

—You mean you and Megan.

—That's right.

—Anything else I should know?

—Well, I asked Megan to take video with her phone of everyone downstairs. I took some, too. Perhaps you should have a look at that.

—We've been trying to get our hands on a guest list.

—Good luck with that. According to Megan, her father never paid any attention to who he invited. If anyone showed up, he was happy. I expect he was satisfied with the turnout at his party.

—So I've heard about the invitations.

I wanted to ask if she'd ever been invited. Before I could, Gavetti handed over a folder.

—Take a look at this.

I opened a thin folder.

—It's photos of jewel thieves we're familiar with operating in all the right circles out of Miami and Nassau. Perhaps you'll see a familiar face.

I looked through the folder, but nothing stuck out. People were coming in and out of the room all evening. Short, fat, tall, slim, pretty, not so pretty.

—Nothing, Detective. I'm sorry. Perhaps the video—

—Yes. Perhaps.

I left the station and began walking. One murder. Thirty to forty or more suspects. I hoped I could coax something out of my memory from last night. I strolled along the waterfront, not even sure where I was going or what I was doing. Then I remembered a distraught Megan back at the hotel. I grabbed a cab and was there in ten minutes.

I got out of the taxi and closed the door just as a motorcycle sped past. A passenger on the back let fly with just enough lead to scare me half to death. I dropped to the ground and rolled behind a car.

Unable to get a plate, I cursed my bad luck until I realized I was happy to be here. The gunman had missed. I got up, dusted myself off, and rushed into the hotel lobby out of the line of fire. Megan greeted me in the lobby.

—What happened to you?

—I was just coming to see you. Someone tried to scare me. They succeeded.

I didn't go into detail. She had enough on her plate.

—Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll wait for you down here.

—I'll be back as quick as I can. Don't run off.

I opened the door to my room. Enough perfume to float a battleship insulted my nostrils and almost interrupted my breathing.

—Hello, Jim.

—Julia. What are you doing here? How did you get in?

She handed me a room card.

—I got it from the maid. We need to talk.

I was skeptical.

—You were there, too. Whatever you tell me you should tell the police.

—I already have. I left before the murder. At least, I think I did.

I wasn't sure whether I should believe her.

—You think? What do you mean, exactly?

—Did you do it, Jim? You went into his bedroom.

—Julia, if you know I went into his bedroom, then you were still there. You had to be outside, watching. Is that right?

—Yes. But I didn't kill him.

Did you see who did?

—No. I was downstairs in the garden waiting to have it out with his latest girlfriend. I wanted to be sure I'd get to see her when she was alone.

—So you were jealous and worried about inheritance?

She chose to ignore the question. I very much doubted she'd tell me, even if she was.

—I was accustomed to his wandering eye. I'm not sure I was jealous, exactly. I wanted to try and find out how serious it was between them. Andy floated back and forth between a couple of other women. Lately Sandy seemed to be his favorite. I had to know what he was planning on doing with her.

—Well, it looks to me like Sandy's been dumped big time. The family name won't be dragged through the tabloids any longer. How does it feel to be free from Andy's womanizing and screwing around?

—It hasn't sunk in yet. When it does, I'm going to be happy it's over, I think. The past few months haven't been the greatest.

—No doubt. And if you did the deed and collected the diamonds, you're ready to get out of town and begin a brand new life, aren't you?

—Do you really think I did it?

—I don't know. But you're finally free of Andy. You should try and make the most of it.

—This lifestyle is all I've ever known.

Julia walked out of my room looking scared and lonely. It appeared she really had no idea what would be next in her life.

I rushed to clean up and get dressed. By the time I made it downstairs, Megan was no longer waiting. I found her at the bar, surrounded by a growing group of men. And no wonder. She still looked gorgeous in the light green mini and those dark stay ups that barely kept her white thighs covered beneath the skirt.

She saw me and rushed her way through the sea of too-friendly men.

—Get me out of here, please.

A huge bag hung off her shoulder.

—Are you kidding? There are some women who would kill for what you just turned down.

—No thanks. Now follow me. I know you like to do that.

She grinned, I grinned, and I followed her just like we both wanted.

—If I remember right, from what you told me about the frisking I gave you on the plane, you're not so innocent either, girl.

She turned and caught me looking where she already knew my eyes would be glued.

—Sometimes.

I followed Megan into the taxi.

—Where are you taking us?

—Turn the other way.

Megan covered my eyes with her scarf. I breathed in a subtle scent of perfume. Just like Megan, it too sneaked up on me and slowly began taking over. I got the idea there was more going on with us than perhaps either was aware.

Following a brief ride, the taxi pulled over. I could hear the sound of surf washing ashore in the background.

—All right. Now follow me.

She opened the door and took my hand. My shoes sunk into soft sand. I tripped and bumped against her. Her arm circled around me.

—Hang onto me. Don't let go. We're almost there.

I hugged her as close as I could. She struggled against me. It wasn't to get away. If anything, I thought she wanted to get a lot closer. The onshore breeze caught her hair, causing it to drift across my face. Waves lapped gently against the sandy shore. She continued leading the way.

—Where are you taking me?

—You can let go of me now. We're here.

I didn't want to let this moment between us go.

—It's all right. And yes, I don't want you to let go, either.

Reluctantly, I did. Her arms went around my neck. Her lips brushed against me. I inhaled the faint scent of her perfume. It was the same scent she wore on the plane from New York. I liked a woman who could be consistent.

—Your perfume—

She untied the knot and the blindfold fell away. She wrapped the scarf and tucked it into my pocket.

—I hoped you'd like it. It's the scent I wore when you met, umm, met certain parts of me.

We laughed, finally comfortable with one another.

—See? Isn't it beautiful here?

I wondered how many other men she'd brought to the beach this way.

—I used to come here as a kid with my aunt. This is the first I've been back in a long time.

And then I knew I was falling in love with this woman.

—Megan—

She put a finger to my lips.

—Me too, Jim. Let's just be here, together, all right? It's right. It's the right time. Perhaps later it will be the wrong time. It's right for now, isn't it?

I took her in my arms and we kissed.

—Yes. It has to be.

Megan began undressing.

—Come on. We're going swimming.

I wasn't about to let her know I didn't know how. She helped unbutton my shirt and then we were both naked beneath the moonlight flooding across the ocean and the beach.

Hand in hand we walked through the surf to deeper water. She floated on her back. The moonlight illuminated every curve of her body and her long legs.

—This must be a switch for you.

I was curious now.

—What do you mean?

She grinned up at me with an impish look.

—Your eyes are glued to the front of me for a change.

She giggled and I laughed and we struggled to hang onto one another as I pulled her out of the water towards me.

—Come on, Megan. It's time.

—Yes. It is. Finally. I don't want to wait any longer.

The moon shone down and gave its approval as we huddled beneath the blanket in a tangle of discarded clothes.

—It's beautiful, isn't it?

—Yes. You are. And you're cold.

—Are you sure it's cold?

I pulled the blanket over us but it didn't do a thing.

—Not any more.

—Oh Jim—

I covered her shoulders with my jacket. We stayed naked, enjoying the sensation of wet, naked bodies under a warming breeze illuminated by moonlight.

Megan slipped the jacket off and leaned against me. My arms surrounded her. She took my hands in hers and we stayed like that until it was time to dress. We strolled arm in arm back to the road and the limo.

I wasn't ready for it this time, either. Two motorcycles pulled up beside the limo just as I pulled the door closed behind us. Bullets ricocheted off the glass and scattered to I don't know where.

—Holy shit, Megan. Your father's limo is armored.

—Yes, it is. Aren't you glad?

I was even happier when a still-shaken Megan invited me to walk with her to her room. I spent the night consoling her. Or maybe we consoled each other. I took a very long, good look at what she had concealed beneath last night's little black dress. It was exactly the same as what she had revealed to me on the beach and in the water.

I wasn't disappointed for the second time.

I hoped she wasn't, either.

Detective Gavetti interrupted the proceedings with a text. It seemed Julia, Andy's sister, was at the airport, waiting to board a flight to America.

I crawled out of bed, slapped Megan on her firm, naked rear, and drew the sheet over her. Then I changed my mind and pulled it all the way down revealing her long, shapely legs, still encased in stockings. She rolled over for me, unashamed. I almost didn't want to go to work.

—I'll be waiting for you just like this.

—You are awake. I'll be waiting to take them off. In the meantime, I have to get to the airport. Your aunt is waiting to board a flight to return home. I need to see her before she goes.

Oh so reluctantly, I closed the door and caught a taxi to the airport. I managed to catch up with Julia in the departure lounge before she went through the scanner. She hesitated when she saw me and finally stepped out of line.

—As you can see, I don't have long to wait. I don't want to talk with you. I've already given my statement to the police. I'm exhausted. I need to get home to rest. I'm sure you understand.

I knew there was nothing I could do to convince her to talk to me. As I turned to go, I thought I saw what looked to be one of the local jewel thieves from Gavetti's collection of mug shots. He must have spotted me, because he disappeared almost immediately. The only place he could have escaped to that fast was the restrooms.

I hurried into the men's and slammed doors open. Outside of a few complaints, there was no one I recognized. I rushed into the women's. This time, I checked for shoes. Behind door number three I had the man I wanted.

He pulled a knife and thrust it wildly in my direction. I sidestepped and pushed hard, forcing him back into the cubicle. I slammed the door on his hand before he could pull it with him into the cubicle. Women screamed. The knife clattered to the ground. I coldcocked my first jewel thief.

Airport security was happy to haul the man downtown to Detective Gavetti. I hurried back to the hotel, threw my belongings into my bag, and snapped it shut just in time to feel the thump that knocked me to the floor. I woke up on soft carpet. I had no idea how long I'd been out. I struggled to the window and looked in the direction of the airport.

I couldn't be sure, but the plane I wanted to be on was probably lined up for takeoff. On the other hand, a huge cruise ship was just finding its way into port. I wondered if there was a connection. Why, I didn't know right off. I went back to rubbing my head and thinking what a numbskull I'd been.

I collapsed onto the floor a second time and my eyes closed.

* * *

**I CAME TO** in time to answer Gavetti's phone call.

—You don't sound so good, Nash.

—Someone just slugged me in my own room. I ended up taking a snooze on a well-carpeted floor. I was trying to make the flight to Miami. Andy's sister is on it.

—Did you happen to find the diamond on that thief you turned over to us?

Obviously Gavetti must have thought I'd retrieved it and not told her.

—Unfortunately, no. It's not my lucky day. What about his luggage?

—Nothing there, I'm afraid. He won't admit to killing Andy, or to being involved with the theft of the diamond. I think we can hold him for a while-at least until this thing shakes out for us.

—Good. Don't let him walk. He knows something. I think the diamond is on the plane bound for Miami along with the guilty party-or parties.

—We did find something interesting.

As usual, the woman was playing it coy. It seemed she was always holding the best for last.

—He had a ticket for a cruise ship in his bag.

—A cruise ship? Talk about a slow boat to China.

—Yeah, but there's plenty of places to stash things, especially things like diamonds.

—Can you get the plane back?

—We can work with airport authorities to halt the flight out of the airport. I'll make a phone call. Meet me in arrivals as soon as you can.

I had no time to get word to Megan in her room. She'd have to keep her stockings covering those gorgeous legs just a little bit longer. I arrived at the airport in time to witness Julia's flight taxiing to the terminal building. I met up with Detective Gavetti and her team.

By the time we put everyone on the plane through a baggage search, a couple of hours had passed and we were wrapping it up. If Megan was still waiting for me, she'd no doubt be well-rested. I was in for trouble. I called her to explain but she didn't seem to mind.

—I'm still here. Now that I've found you, I don't want to lose you.

Perhaps it seemed like it was a little soon, but I let her know I felt the same way.

—I'll be back as soon as we get this cleared up.

There wasn't much to report on the passenger searches. No diamond turned up. No murderer ended up being exposed. By then, I didn't really think there would be. I returned to the hotel and an anxious Megan.

—I was worried about you. You were gone a lot longer than we both thought you would be.

—I know, and I'm sorry. I should have called.

—No, you shouldn't. It's your job. I accept it for what it is.

It was starting to look like this woman might just want to be a part of my life.

—Does that mean—

—Yes. Now come to bed. You still have some stockings to help me take off, remember?

Oh yes I did.

I managed to slip out of bed and take the phone call first thing in the morning. I barely disturbed Megan. Both of her sleek, stocking-covered legs in all their glory waved like a flag on top of the white sheets.

—What is it, Gavetti?

—I think we might have a lead. There's a car waiting for you downstairs if you can tear yourself away from what's warming your bed.

—How did you- never mind. I'll be there shortly.

I opened the car door to Detective Gavetti's wide grin. She handed me a coffee. I knew better than to tell her I took two creams and a sugar.

—Thanks, Detective. How did you know it would be just what I'd need?

—You can call me Shay. If you call me Shayla in front of any of my officers, I'll throw you in jail. Your choice.

I already had enough on my plate. I didn't need another woman getting under my skin.

—Understood, Detective Gavetti. Now where are we going?

She drove around the block and parked at a back entrance to the hotel. Confused, I looked across at her.

—What's going on?

—I think we should double-team the penthouse suite. I need to see if we missed anything. This is a simple case of murder. A crime of opportunity when a crowd of people surrounded the victim and made it impossible for anyone to murder him. And that's exactly why it happened. Whoever wanted the man dead, wanted his death to occur when everyone would know that it couldn't.

I considered for a moment.

—But he was killed while I was in a room keeping company with his daughter.

Gavetti looked at me.

—Were you? Were you both in the room at the same time? Never separated?

I had to think back. So many people had been in the room while Andy futzed with his diamond. So much had happened since Andy's murder-

—You know, I think you might be on to something.

All of a sudden, I didn't want to think. I didn't want to know, either. I wanted to understand why my life had to have so many twists and turns that even I couldn't keep up. Gavetti went on.

—You can tell me what you remember of the night while we go through the rooms.

I ran through the checklist from what I could remember of a possible time line. I'd been downstairs with Megan. We were discussing her irresponsible father and how he wouldn't stop throwing the parties that got him into the tabloids with the women and the booze and the diamonds and sometimes drugs, too.

We followed him upstairs, behind the crowd. Wait, no, Megan tried to get upstairs ahead of everyone, but she got cut off by the crowd chasing after her father. I grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs behind me, hurrying so as not to lose sight of her father.

Then she pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door to show me the safe. She turned the lights down and—

Gavetti interrupted my thought train.

—Megan. She was alone with her father just long enough to kill him.

—But—

—But what, Jim?

—I was with her. For all of it—

I reconsidered.

—I was with her for all but a couple of minutes.

Gavetti had just thrown me a huge curve, and I didn't know how to take it or what to do with it. Was she trying to rattle my cage, or did she know something I didn't? I had to clear my head.

—I'll be back in a bit. Don't go away.

I walked out of the victim's bedroom and down the hall. I retraced my steps the night Andy was killed. Meagan and I had been in the bedroom. We left together to go into the huge living room. In fact, we were all but holding hands by then. We'd arrived in the front room just in time to see her father displaying his smaller diamonds on the blue mat. His guests continued tossing the uncut diamond back and forth like it was a baseball.

And then, suddenly, they all disappeared. What caused that, I had no idea. It was then that Megan had run into the bedroom and discovered her father lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She screamed, and I ran in after her.

Gavetti must have followed me. I caught her watching me as I ran through it in my head. She had to know something. I waved for her to join me.

—What don't I know about Megan? Are you going to tell me, or do I have to bribe you?

I reached into my pocket and came up empty-handed.

—Hell, I can't even do that. You wanted to get me back here, didn't you? There's nothing new to look for because it's all been searched through. You wanted me to examine my own role in it, am I right?

—Come on, Jim. Allow me to buy you lunch since it appears you're broke.

At first, I didn't believe Gavetti. I couldn't let myself. I'd fallen for Megan. I believed she had feelings for me, too. Why would she lie? And to begin with, why would she kill her own father? Gavetti must have seen my reaction to her conclusion. How could she not? She was a cop, after all.

I had to ask. For certain I couldn't work it out on my own.

—Okay. I'll bite. What is it?

Gavetti's eyes never wandered from mine.

—Do you promise you won't shoot me? Or stab me?

—I left my handgun back on the mainland. And I don't usually carry a knife, but I might start. Did I answer the question properly about the knife?

Gavetti smiled and went on.

—Megan is—or was—a government agent.

I looked at her in disbelief.

—Yeah. Go figure. She's young, but she's been doing it for a while in Europe and the Middle East. Those Arabs like the blue-eyes, after all. And she's pale and white enough that she doesn't have to work at it. That's why she stays out of the sun. That's why she took you to the beach at night.

I didn't let on that that wasn't the only reason we ended up on a blanket beneath the moon, but I wasn't going to talk about it.

—Come on. Walk me back to the car.

I followed just far enough behind to keep an eye on her lengthy strides. It took my mind off of things I didn't want to think about.

—What proof do you have, Gavetti?

She slowed to let me catch up. So she knew, too.

—So much for calling me Shay, then, I guess. Get in.

She opened the car door for me and went around to the other side. She handed me the file on the seat beside her.

—I received this after an inquiry. It all fits.

—Can I keep this?

—For as long as it takes you to read through, yes. It can't leave my sight.

When I finished, I got out of the car and leaned in the door.

—I need some time to handle this. Will you let me take care of it?

—I can give you a day. Maybe two if we're lucky.

—Thanks. You won't be sorry. I promise, Shay.

—It's about time. I was just about to give up on you.

* * *

**I WALKED AWAY** from the car and Shay and finished what seemed like a too long walk back to the hotel on my own. It left me with just enough time to come up with a solution to all of our problems. The problem with the solution was that it left no way to locate the stolen diamond.

Megan was waiting in my suite. She had to have bribed someone to let her in. Once she got a look at me I think she knew the jig was up. She played it well. She lounged on the bed, appearing to wait expectantly.

—Well? What's it going to be? Are you going to take them off, or am I?

She had to be tired of waiting. In two seconds both her stockings hung down around her ankles. She managed to kick them to the floor and undressed the rest of the way.

—Come on, lover. It's time.

Why was she in my room? And how did she get in? She had to know by the look on my face that I knew about her. Was she going to stick me in the back with a knife? Or would she do me in the front while she had me locked in the throes of passion?

—Megan—

She settled back on the bed.

—Come here. The door is locked. The lights are low. Let's make love even more passionately than we did on the beach.

That did it. I stripped off my shirt and joined her on the bed. I tightened my grip on her wrists and forced them over her head. She barely struggled.

—That's it, baby. I like it rough sometimes.

Her wrists presented the perfect opportunity. I grabbed for my handcuffs and secured her to the bedpost.

—We can be like that, too. Whatever you want, I'll do it. Wait. Where are you going?

I already had my shirt on. I began searching through the room, looking for the elusive diamond. I figured the knife was long gone already, but I kept an eye out for a clue to that, too. Just in case. The jewel had to be here. That's why she made sure to remain here while I was away.

Bed-bound Megan struggled, trying to free her wrists. When the cuffs only drew tighter, she gave up and tried the seduction route one more time.

—Baby, I'm over here and all alone. Look. I'm more than ready for you.

She was one beautiful woman spread out on the bed and eager for more, even if she was pretending. I didn't give her a chance. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. And I wanted to, very much.

—Megan, you're going to jail. It's just a matter of time before I find the diamond. I know you stashed it here. It would be the only safe place for it once someone knew you had it.

She had to know she wouldn't be getting anywhere with me. She drew her legs up to her chest and stopped squirming. I threw a sheet over her. I already knew how easy I could be tempted. This was one woman I'd better not let tempt me anymore, no matter the feelings I had developed for her.

Then it dawned on me. The knife had to be here, too. I tossed the mattress and dumped Megan on the floor. She screamed. The knife slipped out from behind a pillow and dropped to the floor beside her. I wrapped a towel around it and continued searching for the diamond.

I emptied my suitcase on the floor and rummaged through the pile of clothes. A can of shaving cream bounced once and rolled along the carpet. I ignored it and continued throwing my clothes into a pile. Nothing. I went through the pockets on the overnight bag. Nothing there, either. I did the same with my backpack.

My attention wandered to the shaving cream. Where did it come from? It wasn't even my brand. A faint memory of my days as a city cop came racing back. I picked up the can and gave it a shake. It was empty. I took off the top and pressed. It was better than empty. There was absolutely nothing in it.

—Don't go away, baby. I'll be back before you can get those stockings on again.

I picked them up and threw them at her, along with the rest of her clothes.

—If you can manage to get them on, go for it. It'll look better than a picture of you naked splashed across the tabloids.

I no sooner pressed send on the text message I prepared than someone knocked on the door. I opened it and she pushed past me in time to catch Megan kicking the sheet off.

—You're trying to frame me. You want him, too, don't you?

Gavetti ignored her. She was having none of it.

—You'd better uncuff her, Jim. Otherwise, she'll be doing the perp walk naked through the lobby, and I'll be sure to walk slowly.

She turned to Megan.

—As for you, get dressed, and be quick or you will go naked on the way out of the hotel, but not before I notify the paps.

Megan hurried to dress. When she finished, Gavetti slipped her own cuffs on and fastened them to the bed.

—Sorry, Jim, but it has to be official. If I had to scramble for a key it wouldn't look good.

I tossed the can of shaving cream at her. She stared at it and gave me the look.

—Thanks, I think, but I shaved last night.

I smiled faintly at the thought and she caught me out.

—There might be a chance, but I have to get to know you better, first.

—No, Shay. Twist the bottom off.

The diamond dropped to the floor and bounced under the bed. Shay got down on her hands and knees to retrieve it. I was right with my first impression. Her rear was solid. In fact, when Megan kicked at it and connected, it didn't move. Shay smacked her lightly with her sap and she quieted right down.

—I carry one of those, too. I've never used it on a woman.

—Probably because you don't have to. It seems to me that they like to fall all over themselves just for a chance at you.

I ignored her and handed over the towel.

—The knife is in there. Don't ask me why she kept it, but I think she was planning on using it on me. I found it beneath a pillow.

—Before or after you managed to get her stockings off?

I shook my head. Shay grinned like she couldn't help it.

I moved into a new hotel. I discovered the hotels in this place were packed with all manner of good-looking women, both single and married. I figured on taking a few days to catch my breath and enjoy the scenery.

Hell, I might even learn to swim.

I greeted the knock on the door with the smile the person on the other side of it deserved. How Gavetti found me, she wouldn't say, but she didn't have to when I took a good look at her.

—Are you done yet?

She was still smiling, at least.

—No. I'm not. Do you mind?

—Well, I know those eyes. I've seen them before, and with some men, they never get enough. Do you?

—I do when I'm with the right woman.

She held out her hand.

—In that case, come with me.

—Shay-

I hesitated in the doorway, unsure if I wanted to start all over again.

—I know all about you. I made some calls.

—So then, you did get to know me better.

—I know you're damaged goods, and I'm smart enough to figure that I'll never be able to do anything about it. But I don't mind. Now come on. There's someplace special I want to show you.

I closed the door behind me.

—It's not Love Beach, is it?

—No. I only take my special men there. Perhaps before you leave.

We ended up strolling along the shore, sharing the setting sun. When it cooled, I draped my jacket over her shoulders. We almost looked like a normal couple for a while.

—My place isn't far from here. Would you like to come up?

She hesitated. I didn't. I couldn't refuse. It would look bad.

—Only if you shaved.

She giggled and grabbed my hand and almost yanked my arm in the direction of the sidewalk.

—You won't find out until we get there.

I had some time coming. I spent it in Nassau, with Shay, in her apartment. She allowed me to move in. I did the town with her. Or she did it with me in tow, I guess. The days went by too fast for my liking and I let her know. I blushed when I told her she'd need another shave in a few more days.

—Are you volunteering?

—Perhaps I could help.

I think we both knew she'd been helping me get over the feelings I had developed for Megan. I didn't mind. She was likable and she had a fantastic sense of humor. We traded stories of police work with equal fervor. We made love the same way, hot and sweaty and with much enthusiasm. We laughed and stared and looked and examined and started the whole thing all over again.

—Will you ever come back?

—It's not that far from Miami. I could.

—But you won't. You have too many demons you need to slay. Maybe I'll come see you one day.

—That would be a nice surprise. Why don't you?

I think we both knew it wouldn't happen.

—Thank you, Shay. You're just what I needed.

And she was. I needed her to help me get over Megan and my bad judgment. She was the right woman at the right time and I think she knew it, too.

—Like I said, if you ever want to-

—I want to. I just don't know if I'm ready-and I don't mean that it's Megan. I have a history.

—I know some of it, Jim. Maybe one day you can tell me all about it. I'm a good listener.

The Navajo was towed into position on the tarmac. I picked up my bag. Shay walked me to the stairs. I stopped and I took her in my arms and we kissed as though it was the first time. She blushed, and I blushed, and it was time to go.

—I'm not going to say I'll wait, Jim, but I'll be here. All you have to do is show up.

—Maybe we could meet in the middle.

—Then it's a deal.

We kissed again. I climbed aboard and the pilot closed and secured the door. I sat down and looked out the window. Shay waved, and I waved back. She even blew me a kiss.

I grinned like a lovesick teenager until the plane turned and I could no longer see the terminal building.

###

**Dead End**

Jim Nash Adventure #11

_A missing teenager draws Jim back to the scene of the crime in Mexico where Kara, his pregnant wife, was killed in an explosion aboard their sloop. He's needed the intervening two years to get over the life-changing event, but now he's ready to take another look in an effort to put it all behind him for good. He crosses the border, lands an exceptional deal on a rental car, and, realizing one of his shortcomings, hires a translator. Now all he has to do is find two missing girls and try not to fall in love all over again while doing it._

**ROBERT CALLED, WANTING** to know if I'd take a trip into Mexico to search for a missing teenager. I had to tell him I'd think about it. An hour later, I called him back and said yes, but that was before he told me the girl was last sighted in Ensenada.

Two years ago I'd wasted too much of my life in that town, eating my heart out over my bad luck. I took to drink and the devil, my old standbys when things went to hell in a handbasket with the women in my life. From what I could remember, the drinking had kept me on a more or less even keel, except for the associated drunken staggering.

At least, that's what I'd told myself at the time. I'd stumbled around like a fool on a mission dedicated to getting ever more drunk. If that was even possible at the time.

What else was a man supposed to do when his pregnant wife and their dream yacht had been blown to smithereens? Maybe there were men stronger than me, but that was their problem. Despite every effort spent searching, there was a slim to none chance that I'd find the body.

I never gave up the search. When César, the panga owner I hired, got fed up with me, he let me take the boat out on my own. I didn't even have to leave a deposit. I only had to bring her back fueled and oiled and ready to go the next day. He was happy. I ended up paying him more than what he'd have made on a fishing charter on a daily basis.

It was worth it for my own piece of mind.

It was worth every long, sunny, hot and windy day just to be out on the water. It took me only a few days of despair before I realized I was on a wild goose chase. I started to give up the search earlier and earlier in the day to beat a hasty retreat to the bar.

I knew too that the longer I dragged out the search, the less likely I'd get a meaningful result. What was left of the body would have drifted far away, driven by currents and the wind once it surfaced. Even so, I checked the shoreline, north and south, multiple times.

By then, beginning to run low on cash, I surrendered the rental car and began walking. I could spend more time in the bar, and not be worried about the consequences, such as they were in Mexico.

It took a couple or three months before I realized I should probably sober up and get a life. By then, I had less than two grand still in my pocket for walking-around money. It was leftovers from the wad of cash Kara's sister, Erica had brought me.

Allie. She was the one that sent the money. She talked Erica into delivering it, because she knew I'd never accept it from her.

At the end of it all, when I finally called it quits in desperate frustration, I called Erica to give her a report. She took me at my word, difficult as I knew it would be for her. She thanked me. That was the last time she had anything to do with me.

It was done. I made one last call to my old friend, Robert. I'd saved him from a murder rap with a bit of good fortune and a video camera during a murder investigation. His gratitude had included offering me a long-deserved vaycay at his small resort hotel island off the coast of Florida.

Back then, I'd accepted, briefly, and then gave it up. Sober now, I begged for another chance. He took pity on me. He'd heard how my adventure with my new and pregnant wife had ended. He was happy to offer me the security job, since he knew my capabilities. Wanting the change, I was happy to accept.

From a big city detective with a pretty good record, to being a house dick in a resort hotel. That was me, all right. How the mighty fell.

I wasn't so happy, but what the hell, they say a change is as good as a rest. I took all of them—whoever they were—up on it. I sobered up long enough to shave off the beard and slap down the cash for a bus ticket to the border in Tj. I walked across with only my ID and a passport and what was left of the wad of cash.

By the time I cabbed it to the airport in San Diego, I had a new suit, half a dozen ties, fresh underwear, new socks, and a bag to carry all of my worldly belongings. The TSA must have been happy, too. They waved me through with barely a glance and a hands-up walking through the detector.

The walking-around money I had in my pocket was just about done by the time I showed up at the island resort on the Caravan charter from the mainland.

It had been a long time coming, but I was finally somewhere I needed to be. Now all I had to do was to find some relief from Kara and the explosion that followed me everywhere. All I wanted was closure.

How difficult did it have to be?

I walked across the congested border crossing into Tj. Immediately the character of the place surrounded me. Hawkers, bars, taco joints, the military patrols by masked _Federales_ , the smells, the dust, the sticky heat, the atmosphere. All of it contributed to an immediate change in my demeanor. It was as though I had been transported into a drug-fueled nightmare of people and circumstance.

And I was just happy to be there.

I hailed a cab and allowed the driver to lead me to a _renta de autos_. The cowbell over the door clanked and a young woman nonchalantly looked in my direction and went back to reading her book. I managed a quick look at the cover before she put it down with a sigh. It was something about a biker and a dancer and drugs.

I asked for the worst vehicle she had. The girl looked at me like I was crazy. Her attitude changed when she must have realized that she had a live one. She led me outside to the ugliest car I'd ever seen. Dented. Rusted. Paint faded from years in the harsh sun. Broken headlights. You name it, this thing had it all going on.

Reliable, she called it.

Probably, I admitted. It would fit in with all the other cars on the road at night with no lights.

—Exactly, señor.

She explained that it had to be, otherwise it wouldn't still be on the lot in such a manner of disrepair. When I raised an eyebrow in her direction, now that she was out from behind the counter, I took her in all at once. The woman wasn't a disappointment to look at.

She smiled and I saw her perfect white teeth for the first time. Brown eyes and dark hair and that perfect smile took over and I had to agree. The car was definitely on its last legs.

Her legs, on the other hand, were fairly new and most definitely shapely in the short, filmy skirt that barely kept them covered to mid-thigh. When it fluttered in the warmth of the slight breeze it didn't help my ability to say no.

Her English was almost better than mine. I took a chance and asked if she might like to have a part-time job as a translator for a week.

—Just so you know. We'll be looking for a missing underage teenager. Her name is Keely. She's been gone for a week. The Federales think she's been seen in Ensenada. The girl is familiar with the city. She's traveled there with her parents a number of times to the desert races.

She looked me up and down and sideways. She took the time to make sure I'd signed the paperwork for the beater before saying si. Then she searched frantically through the keys, as though afraid I might leave before taking the car—and her—with me.

—Are you coming with me or not?

Her eyes narrowed. She gave me another long look. I couldn't blame her. Whatever test she had me take, I must have passed with flying colors.

—I'm not riding in that piece of shit you rented.

She hurriedly wrote out a note. I tried to read it over her shoulder, but she twisted out of the way and blocked my view. I went back to checking out long, shapely, tawny legs.

She finished the note and taped it to the door before locking it behind her. She took a quick look at the keys in her hand and herded me to a brand-new four-door mini. She tossed a sheaf of papers and a map onto the passenger seat.

Over the roof I glanced at her with a questioning look.

—Upgrade. I'll be driving.

—Won't you need some luggage?

She ignored me and slipped across the seat to twist into the driver's side. Through the side window she revealed the rest of her gorgeous thighs in the process. I feared that from now on, no would not ever be a word in my vocabulary.

She almost left without me in her haste to get away.

—Get in. Get in. I have to stop to pick up some clothes. Do you have enough cash, or do I have to take you to a _banco_?

She didn't wait for an answer. The minute I hurried in she wheeled us down streets and back alleys in her haste to get home. Perhaps she thought I'd change my mind before she got us there.

—You can slow down. You're already hired.

She stomped on the brakes, slammed the car into park, and leaped out.

—You're going to have to come in with me. What's your name?

I introduced myself and learned her name was Pilar.

—That's a pretty name.

She raised an eye and looked at me with a sidelong glance.

—I'm not some _chunga_ with no eyebrows.

Her hands went to her hips as she looked me over for the third or fourth time.

—Of course you aren't. I knew that right away.

She continued to regard me with suspicion. Funny how that didn't matter when we were in the renta office.

—There's no chance. I don't even know you.

—I'm looking for a translator. Nothing more. That you're attractive doesn't matter in the slightest.

She sighed. I had no idea why.

—Come on. I'm going to have to introduce you to my _abuelita_. I need her permission for this _misión investigadora_. Whatever it is.

She wheeled around. Her skirt billowed. She caught me looking and used both hands in an attempt to get it under control. She gave up and I was treated to a second view of the back of her thighs.

Pilar spent more than a few minutes explaining to her grandmother in rapid Spanish why she should be permitted to accompany a stranger on his search for a missing girl. She pointed. She gestured. She spoke too fast to make any sense.

She even managed to force a tear to run down her cheek.

I thought I could make out something about a sister, and missing, and not in Tijuana, but I wasn't sure. I never was any good in Spanish class.

Just like I never learned to swim.

Grandma cast the evil eye in my direction more than a few times. It was obvious she cared a great deal about her granddaughter. She didn't want her hooking up with some gringo who would no doubt lead her astray to a life of drugs and sin in a Mexican whorehouse. She evidently thought that when I tired of her granddaughter, I'd end up slicing her throat when she started to look old.

Eventually, it appeared as though Pilar calmed her concerns. Grandma waited at the bottom of the staircase, wringing her hands and casting sidelong glances in my direction. Upstairs, Pilar cursed her way through packing her bag. I managed to get to meet three of her sisters, and they all looked just as stunning as Pilar. Their English was just as good, too.

Pilar's cursing went on and on. I shouted up the stairs.

—We're only going to be three or four days. A week at most.

— _Ay, caramba_.

And then, heavy-footed and with a huge suitcase in tow, Pilar clomped down the stairs. The heavy bag bounced down behind her. I picked up the bag and grunted before heading for the door with a developing hernia.

Grandma came out with us. She gave me a smile and a hug. She kept nodding. It sounded to me as though she was wishing her granddaughter well as she followed us out the door.

—What did you tell her?

—That we are going on our honeymoon.

—Are you sure that was a good idea? How are you going to explain it to her when you show up without me?

— _Desaparecido_. Disappeared.

She started to explain, but I held up my hand. I already knew what it meant. I moved on to silently wonder why Pilar had agreed to accompany me so easily and so hastily.

She had to be leaving something out, and it left me more than a little uneasy.

My job at the resort hotel let me remain relatively happy. I say relatively because I still hadn't resolved any of my doubts or feelings about Kara and the explosion on board our sloop. In fact, I started to think that there were a couple of things that I hadn't been able to resolve to my satisfaction.

Foremost was the diving equipment that I had retrieved. At first it had appeared as though the rebreather had only washed ashore. But there was nothing else with it. No pieces of the sloop. No clothes. No nothing.

There was a problem with that, as I saw it. My instincts, dulled by grief, couldn't be forced to figure it out. So instead, before even thinking about it, I cut off the mouthpiece and stored it away in a plastic bag for future reference. I had no idea why. I just did.

I had almost walked back to where it washed ashore when I discovered the trail that was almost a road. It looked as though a dirt bike had traveled up and down at least once. What that meant, I still had no idea.

I put away my doubts and settled in at the resort with a renewed vigor. The single tower I had visited years ago was now a series of towers, linked by elevated walkways. It had become a resort complex now. Sold as a destination, it was a popular one.

The job wasn't a difficult one to get a handle on. Mostly I intervened in thefts, usually by staff. Occasionally, small-time hoods ended up at the resort thinking they could steal or blackmail their way to an easy living. They ended up carted away by boat to the mainland.

Loud couple arguments, drunken brawls in bridal parties between friends and lovers of the betrothed, bar fights, staff misadventures—they all took too much of my time at what had become a huge resort hotel complex. As did temporarily lost children.

My own problems slowly faded into the background, to be retrieved when I felt more than a little sorry for myself. That didn't come often as time put more and more distance between my past and my present.

There were plenty of opportunities for female company presenting themselves in the form of staff. I kept away from the full-time girls and instead concentrated on the part-timers that arrived during peak season. They were younger and only temporary. Seldom would one make the decision to commit long term, and I was mostly glad of that, because occasionally one would turn out to be more than tempting.

Warren, the dive instructor and wharf rat was still there, too. We renewed our acquaintance, often ending up partying with some of the single female guests around a bonfire away from the resort beach-front. It suited me perfectly.

Eventually, the staff pretty much left me to my own devices. I tripped over one only sporadically when I was assured that it meant nothing more than comfort and enthusiasm quickly assuaged. Hell, I was only human. An attractive woman with long legs and the rest of a body to match kept me interested if she was more than willing.

But still, in the back of my mind, I was left to wonder what might have been if Kara and I had been given a proper chance.

All of that was why I jumped on the Caravan and headed to the mainland airport and Mexico. I hoped I'd get a chance for closure by returning to the scene of the explosion that had changed my life forever.

The up-front money wasn't so bad, either.

* * *

**PILAR DIDN'T WASTE** daylight getting us to Ensenada. Her lead foot had me hanging on more than I wanted to, but she seemed a good driver for the most part. She caught me checking her out more than a few times, but she ignored me and turned up the volume on the radio. Women. You can't live with them, and you sure as hell don't want to live without them.

By the time I had her pull up at Ensenada's _Armada_ station, it was barely three in the afternoon. Judging by the impatient look she gave me, either she didn't want to spend any more time with me than was absolutely necessary, or she was hoping she could ditch me to take off with the car for a night on the town.

—You should probably wait here, Pilar. I have some personal business to attend to.

Like every other woman in my life, she didn't listen. Stubborn as the rest of them, she walked with me to the office. The sympathetic coast guard _Federale_ remembered me. He stood up to shake hands.

Pilar remained in the hallway, and that was all right by me. Perhaps she thought she might be needed for translation duty.

The Federale handed me a coffee and I forgot about Pilar. Like all women who were vaguely inquisitive, she waited patiently, her back leaning against the door into the office. Out of sight, out of mind.

We began in English by discussing the accident and my months-long quest to find Kara's pregnant body two years ago. Pilar loudly drew in her breath and collapsed against the door. It banged against the wall. I checked to see if she was all right. Her mouth was open, but if she was trying to say something, I couldn't tell.

She never moved again until the discussion ended. She managed to muster a weak _madre mìa_. The coast guard official overheard her. He looked around me and stared at the girl.

—Who is your friend, señor?

I grinned while attempting a feeble excuse for a joke and an explanation.

—She's my translator and fiancé.

Behind me, Pilar cleared her throat. I didn't have to look to know that her eyes would be boring their way through the back of my head.

—Pilar had to tell her abuelita that we were about to get married before the old woman would let her go with me.

—In that case, be careful.

He grinned, looked at the girl, and then back at me. He sighed.

—Your translator looks to me like she could turn out to be _una niña problemática_.

I nodded my agreement. If the way she'd switched out cars and raced us to Ensenada was any indication, Pilar could easily fit that bill. I had a final question for the Federale.

—Is the man with the panga for rent still around? He cut me a pretty good deal the last time.

—César? Yes, he's there. He mentions you from time to time.

He looked at Pilar.

—Remember what I said, señor. She likes you already.

She gave the man a dirty look. For once it was someone else's turn.

—Gracias. Come, Pilar, it's time.

—Si, Santiago.

Once we were out of the building she took my hand as we walked to the car.

—I'm no saint. Just call me Jim.

— _Bueno saberlo. Si, Jeem_.

She had me with that and her accent and the wind blowing her longish dark hair into her brown eyes and across her beautiful face. The wide, hesitant smile didn't hurt, either. I opened the passenger door.

—There's something I need to tell you, Jeem.

I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. Perhaps it was a mistake, but I figured I'd get a long story about a boyfriend or unrequited love and poetry in half Mexican and a quarter English.

So I ignored her.

Pilar stayed silent the entire time while I concentrated on getting us to the beach south of the city. It was familiar ground, but it had been a while. It had been my hangout for months nearly two years ago.

I stopped the car on the beach, yards from the hut. By then old memories had replaced any thought of asking Pilar what she wanted to tell me. I glanced at her, thinking that the clothes she was wearing wouldn't do for a trip on the panga.

—You should probably change into a pair of shorts at least.

—Get me my bag, señor Jim.

By the time I opened the trunk and opened her bag, she had her shoes and had shimmied out of her skirt in the front seat.

—Look near the bottom. I brought two of everything.

I fumbled until I found them. I held out both, and watched intently as she wrestled herself into her choice. It never occurred to me to look anywhere else.

She grinned, obviously pleased.

—You like, si?

She wasn't so shy after all.

—Si. _Muchísimo_.

—Your Mexican is not so bad. At least, not if you want to talk to the girls.

—I'd rather talk to a woman.

She blushed. We studied one another, each seeming to size up the other. It was too late for me. I was already smitten by this woman. I wished I had taken the time to let her tell me what it was she wanted. I shrugged and figured there'd be plenty of time in the next week.

—Bueno. _Vamanos_ , señor Jim.

César shook my hand and cast his wandering eyes up and down Pilar. She stood her ground and took it, although I suspected she was biting her tongue for my sake. I introduced her formally and she seemed to mellow out just a little.

The three of us pushed out the panga. I helped Pilar board and handed her a life jacket. She dropped it on the seat.

—We're not going anywhere until you put it on.

She sighed and I started the engine. I steered the panga across the sea in the direction of where I had last seen the Saskia with Kara on board. I knew there wouldn't be anything to see. I only wanted to have some time with my thoughts and memories. I hoped to get a measure of closure, finally.

Pilar stood beside me as we cruised across the ocean. Her long hair flew in the wind. She tried to hold it down, but it proved impossible. Eventually, she gave up and smiled when she caught me looking at her. My only thought was how it could be that a woman could be so beautiful.

The bow of the panga began to slap through the chop. Pilar grabbed onto me. After the third or fourth time, she didn't let go. My arm went around her, and we cruised the entire way seemingly linked together as though the past had affected us both.

I throttled back when my sight line to shore told me I was getting close to where the sloop had gone down.

—Here?

—Si.

I throttled back to idle and made a half-hearted attempt at explaining what had happened. My voice wavered. Eventually, I halted. There was no sense in going on. I couldn't anyway. Pilar's grip tightened on me.

—It is all right. I am with you now. If you want, we can talk about it later, Santiago. Perhaps later tonight when we are ashore.

I didn't answer. I didn't know if I'd be able to even then.

—Tomorrow when we have more time we'll come back and cruise up and down the shore. I can show you where I found the diving gear a bit to the north. I want to look there again.

—Si. _Mañana_.

Her voice softened, as though trying to comfort me. Her lips touched my ear.

—Mañana.

Pilar's arms didn't budge. She surrounded me and kept me against her the entire way back to the beach. I figured she was only nervous from the slapping and banging the panga was doing as we headed for shore.

—You can let go. You're safe.

She shook her head and held me tighter. My arm went around her. I never thought about it as I tightened my own grip.

We cruised to the beach, still holding on to each another, reluctant to let go. I wasn't sure by now just who was supporting who, but I surely did appreciate her care with me.

I started to help her out of the panga, but she beat me to it. She climbed over the gunnel and leapt ashore.

—You're good _compañía_ , sailor. Gracias, Pilar.

—De nada, Jim. That was my first time. _Mañana será otro día_. I will do better _en la mañana_.

I handed the car keys over to Pilar and allowed her to drive us back to the city. It was getting on to evening by the time we got downtown. I asked her to turn off the Aveneda Reforma onto the _malecón_ and park.

I dug out the photo of Keely and we walked up and back, stopping at the vendors to ask if they had seen anyone resembling the girl. We got lucky when one recognized her as one who came by for tacos from time to time. He told Pilar about a park the gringo teenagers hung out in, and gave her directions.

—Vamanos, Jeem. For sure we can arrive there before dark.

The sun was long down by the time we found the park. We managed a quick walk, circling the outside. We showed Keely's photo to a select few under the two working street lights. No one admitted to recognizing her.

It was obvious we were alerting the locals to the fact that we were looking for a runaway. We'd have to return tomorrow. I was concerned Keely would fly the coop by then if she learned someone was searching for her.

We arrived at the hotel late. Pilar could barely keep her eyes open, and I wasn't far behind. The long day beginning in Tijuana followed by the time spent on the ocean had exhausted both of us. The sunburned arms and legs didn't help.

—I'm sorry I kept you out so late. I'll try to do better tomorrow.

—It is all right.

She took my hand.

—It had to be that way.

I arranged for two rooms on check-in.

—Yours is right across the hall from mine. Go and take a look to see if it's all right.

It must have been. She came back without her bag.

—We'll go to eat a little later, all right? I want to have a bit of a rest and a shower.

We parted company in the hallway. I slipped the key into the door, closed it behind me, and crashed on the bed. Reluctantly, I got back up, showered, and fell back down to sleep the sleep of the dead.

The constant knocking roused me out of my sleep stupor. I struggled out of bed to open the door. Pilar appeared like a vision with a tray of food and beer. She had changed out of her shorts into a filmy skirt and a new blouse.

—You already know I'm going to look, don't you?

I didn't make a secret out of it. She didn't seem to mind but she blushed anyway.

—If I didn't want you to, I wouldn't let you. Now sit back and eat.

She sat beside me, drew up her legs, and curled them beneath her. She spooned sugar into the coffee. I unwrapped the picnic she had taken the time to bring me.

—How could you have known?

The power of the fish tacos took over. I didn't even offer her a bite before I gulped down two.

—All right, it's your turn now. I'm done.

She smiled and shook her head. I leaned against the wall.

—I should have gotten more.

—No, you shouldn't. You did just right. Now come on. Your turn.

I unwrapped a taco and held it out for her. She took my hand and leaned in to take a bite. I had a clear view through the top of her blouse of the gentle vee between her breasts.

—You should button up. You're with a man who hasn't been with a woman for a while.

She ignored me. I wondered why I even told her.

—We'll see.

I wasn't expecting that. I thought nothing of it. I was too tired to look any more.

—I should go and let you sleep for now.

— _Por favor, señorita_.

That's how tired I was.

Barely awake, I stumbled to the door a second time, barely awake in the darkened room. A vision of a woman back-lit by the lights in the hall startled me. Pilar dragged her suitcase into the room, closed the door, and pushed me back into bed. She climbed in beside me.

—I can't see you in the dark.

—Si. I already know you like to look.

—You're a beautiful woman. You must be accustomed to it by now.

—Not so much.

She got out of bed and opened the curtains. Street light flooded in. She kept her back to me as she pulled the nightgown over her head.

—Now you can.

So I did. She hesitated before getting into bed. I sat up, the better to look.

—You shouldn't tease a man. You're too beautiful.

—But I want to make you forget.

—In that case, tease me some more.

She arched her back before easing onto the bed.

—Lie back. You'll be able to see all of me.

She kissed her way down and up and back down again. When I tried to pull her beside me, she resisted and instead climbed over me.

—Permit me to make you forget. You will still get to see all of me before the sun comes up.

—In that case, it's a deal.

We struggled getting to know one another in the window's dim light. There was just enough that I could see all of her as she turned around and back and around again.

—Come back to me.

She leaned over me. Her breasts brushed against me as we kissed and finally collapsed together in a sweet, sweaty tangle of arms and legs and man and woman making love.

—You see, señor Jim, you are getting to see all of me like I promised.

—I'm not done looking yet.

— _Bueno. No te preocupes. Estoy bien_.

I fell asleep while Pilar held my head to her breasts and stroked my face. She hummed a lullaby just for me. It had been a long time since I'd been comforted by any woman. It was overdue.

When I awoke, we lay in a tangle beneath the sheets. Pilar was curled up against me, all warm long legs and arms intertwined as though we were making love again. I lifted the sheet to get another look in case she changed her mind in the morning.

I thought about waking her, too. Instead, I pulled the sheet up and let her continue to snuggle against me. She was my protector. I didn't want her to leave me alone before either of us was ready.

I stayed awake and tried not to think about Kara. It didn't work. I began feeling guilty about thinking of one woman while in the arms of another. That was a new one on me.

Tomorrow we'd go out in the panga a last time to check out the rocky beach where I'd discovered the diving equipment.

It all seemed like such a long time ago, thanks to Pilar and last night, and I was glad of that for now.

I woke with a start. Pilar was looking at me in the early morning sun streaming through the window. She was dressed and made up as though ready to go to work. To say the least, I was impressed. A bit of lip gloss and what looked to be not much else went a long way with this woman.

— _Hola la bonita. Qué hora?_

She blushed like the beautiful woman she was who didn't waste any time thinking that way.

—Almost noon. I brought you breakfast.

Pilar set the tray on the bed and undressed. My jaw dropped. She hesitated before joining me.

—I can see you are hungry for more than the breakfast I brought for you.

—In that case, what else did you bring?

Naked, she put a hand on a hip and posed as much for me as for her. I already knew she wasn't so innocent. A forearm covered her breasts as she turned and stopped and turned again. She allowed her forearm to fall to her hips to match the other, leaving her breasts and everything else exposed. She was proud of her body, and well she should be.

—Is that enough for you? After all, you got to see all of me last night, too.

—La bonita. Come to me.

She lowered her eyes.

—You're making me blush.

—Si. I think I like to make you blush. And I think you like it when I do.

She smiled and climbed into bed and smiled once more.

—We will make love again. But you must eat, first.

We made love first. Then I ate, and we made love, and we made love again, and for a while I forgot all about my reasons for being here. Beside me, close beside me, Pilar sighed and pressed herself tight.

Reality intruded. As much as I didn't want it to, it was time to go.

—Later today when we get to the park, I think it should be you who looks for the girl. I should wait in the car.

—You are right. If someone told the girl a man was looking for her, she might be frightened away.

The bow of the panga bounced through the swell on the open ocean. Pilar once again stood close beside me. This time, I knew it was where we both wanted to be.

—I'm glad you are taking me with you. I wouldn't want you to be here alone.

—I want you here, too. After last night, I don't think I could do it without you.

Once again, she turned beet-red, but by now I wasn't so sure she was as innocent as she pretended.

—I'm giving you lots of practice at that, aren't I?

—I do not mind. I like being with you.

I pulled the throttle back to idle and ran the panga onto the rocky beach. I helped Pilar out of her life vest. Hand in hand, we jumped ashore.

The trail I walked years ago had disappeared. A tangle of weeds and stunted brush replaced it. There was no sign of vehicles in the recent past, at least. Satisfied, I walked back to the beach and to Pilar.

—I don't know what I expected. There's nothing. I probably should have stayed away.

The matter of the diving equipment still bugged me. Why had it alone floated ashore, yet all the bits and pieces of the sloop had drifted away? When I got home to the resort, I'd have a look for the mouthpiece I'd put away. I needed to ask Allie if she knew someone who could do a DNA comparison against Erica, Kara's sister.

All of a sudden, I had enough. I put it all out of my mind and walked back to the panga. I helped Pilar aboard and then pushed us out to drift offshore.

I bid a silent goodbye before firing up the engine. Pilar sat with me. She took my arm in hers and held it. We cruised back to the beach, joined by our silence.

* * *

**IT WAS NEAR** twilight by the time I pulled the panga onto the sandy beach in front of César's and helped a sunburned Pilar out of the boat.

—I'll pick up some lotion for you on the way back to the hotel.

She smiled so I went on.

—I'll help out so you don't miss any spots.

Even I knew I was being too obvious. Pilar raised an eyebrow in before heading off towards the car.

—I was a good Catholic girl.

She hesitated, waiting.

—And then I came along.

—Si.

She stopped, faced me, and took my hands. I looked at her quizzically, expecting to hear a put-down.

— _A los que saben esperar les pasan cosas buenas_.

— _No habla, señorita Pilar_.

—Good things come to those who wait.

I couldn't have had a bigger smile on my face. Pilar's was just as big as she turned back to the car. I gathered our belongings and placed them in the car and walked back to the shack with a spring in my step. I wanted to thank César and pay the bill for the final time.

César's greeting was friendly as I entered the shack. A muffled scream from the direction of our car drew me outside in an instant. Two men forced a struggling Pilar across the sand in the direction of a lime green van beside our car.

She screamed again and got off a couple of ineffectual kicks before a backhander quieted her. She ended up tossed unceremoniously into the van. The sliding door slammed and the jacked-up van bounced along the rocky beach road in front of a cloud of dust and sand.

I had no idea who or how many were in the van. And I definitely had no idea why Pilar had been chosen to be a victim of a kidnapping. Could someone caught on to our questions on the malecón Adan subsequent visit to the park?

I raced to the car and followed the dust cloud, bouncing all the way to the main road. The van turned towards the city. I followed at a respectable distance. I didn't want to put pressure on anyone to harm Pilar.

Dammit but why was it that every woman I got to liking was taken from me at the most inopportune time? This was no time to ponder. I followed at a safe distance, growing more uncomfortable as the speeding van drew closer to the city.

As best I could I followed as it led me into a tangle of one-way streets, back alleys, and too much traffic jamming everything up. Wandering pedestrians blocked me at every chance I got to gain on the van.

I lost sight of it for good in a tangle of one-way streets, back alleys, and too much traffic jamming everything up. Pedestrians wandering aimlessly blocked me at every chance I had to gain on the van. I finally lost it for good in traffic.

I shifted into park and unfolded Pilar's map. I might be lost, but I still needed to get to the park to look for Keely. I chuckled. If Pilar hadn't been railroaded into that damned van, she'd be beside me shaking her head. I'd be getting a look like only she knew how to hand out.

The possibility that Pilar's kidnapping had something to do with the missing teen girl I'd been hired to locate. The girl had met a boy while she was down here with her family attending the desert races. Obviously she thought she was in love. She came back to see him. Maybe they had dreams of playing house and getting married.

I knew how that went. My own life was a mess because of my own dreams, and I wasn't anywhere near being a teenager. I was a long way from it.

The girl had to have returned to see her boy. Except now, I was faced with two missing women and left to wonder if it had anything to do with prostitution or slavery. Both Pilar and Keely were attractive girls. The pot had to have been stirred when Pilar and I asked around for Keely and showed her photo.

Could we have been spotted looking for the girl? Was someone trying to teach me that I shouldn't mess with the locals? Pimps and slavers could be ruthless in pursuit of their woman. There was no way they'd permit anyone or anything to come between them and their women that would interrupt the cash flow.

That drugs could be involved had me thinking the worst. If Keely or Pilar or both got hooked-. It was too soon for that, but if it went on for any length of time-

If Keely had become a part of their operation, then it could mean that they were going after Pilar for the same purpose.

I stopped thinking. It was time to act. I located the park on the map. On the drive, I kept my eyes open for anything that was lime green. I wasn't hopeful. The van could be stashed in a parkade or hidden in someone's garage by now.

What really had me on edge was what might happen to Pilar. I tried not to think that another woman I cared for and who obviously cared for and trusted me had been disappeared, all because she was seen hanging around with a gringo.

Desaparecido, Pilar had called it, and I had some small sense about it. Now I knew what it meant first hand. I was concerned. Most of the desaparecidos ended up dead, beheaded, and deposited in a lime pit to be covered in dirt.

Mexican style, it was known as. Cut up and parted out.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what might happen to Pilar if she didn't cooperate with whoever was holding her. I already knew life was cheap in this part of the world. All anyone had to do was watch a border news report to find out just how cheap.

On the other hand, Pilar was a beautiful young woman, and that was just as scary. Headstrong, too. That might not be in her favor if push came to shove. The woman was a tiger just waiting for a fight. That we hadn't ended up fighting was only because we had become lovers. I would hate to see the results of someone trying to force her to do something she didn't want to do.

I pulled the car around out of sight of the park, got out, and made my way on foot.

Broken glass crunched underfoot. I looked up. Someone shot out the lights that last night had illuminated parts of the park. There were voices, but I could barely make them out. Little else interested me.

I walked deeper into the growing darkness, cautious, on guard for anything and ready for nothing without my trusty sidearm. Then I spotted her. Keely. Getting out of a white van in the parking lot. I whispered her name, not wanting to alert or draw anyone's attention.

The girl crossed the parking lot. I followed as she led me deeper into the darkened park. She stopped, hesitated, and looked around before going on. I wondered if she knew I was there, following her. It was now or never.

—Keely.

She must have heard me. She halted mid-step and turned again. Had she heard me? I had to try.

—Keely. Your parents sent me to find you.

Nothing. Not a word.

—I want to help you. Are you all right?

She didn't move. I was close enough to make a grab for her. She looked into the bushes. I reacted by stepping back. It was too late. Three men jumped me, taking me to the ground. Kicks. Punches. Nothing worked as they held me down and proceeded to beat the shit out of me.

I wrapped my arms around my head in a useless attempt at a measure of protection. My kidneys took the brunt of the attack. I'd be pissing blood into the foreseeable future. On the plus side, my face was still its handsome self it I was lucky.

I didn't feel lucky.

I stayed on the ground, waiting for more. In my past life as a cop, I learned that getting up too soon after an ass-kicking only meant more of the same. I moaned and groaned. I didn't have to act out.

A voice out of nowhere told me to get out of town and go back where I came from.

—You will have no success in your quest, señor Jim.

He said the last with a sneer, as only a local could. Obviously, Pilar had told him something. I only hoped she hadn't been harmed.

I listened for more. There was nothing. Retreating steps followed by slamming doors and screeching tires announced that the van was on its way out of the park.

The task I gave myself was a simple one. All I had to do was make way to the car. I'd get in and drive to the hotel. If I could have mugged a senior citizen for a cane or a walker, I'd have been a lot happier. I also would have arrived at the car a lot sooner.

I stretched out an arm for the door. I groaned and tried to ease it open. I broke into a sweat, defeated, angry, worried. It wasn't my first day at the rodeo. How on earth could I have let myself be taken by surprise?

When I finally managed to get my tired aching body into the car, I was exhausted. I hunched over the wheel and struggled to shift the automatic into drive. It was a good thing Pilar had given me the free upgrade. I chuckled remembering her when we first met. I could have been stuck wrestling with a manual shift.

I didn't head to the hotel right off. Instead, I made my way south, back the way I had come. I didn't stop until I arrived at César's beach. I didn't stop sweating, either.

In growing agony, I pushed open the door with my elbow. I struggled to get my feet out of the car. When I seceded at that simple task, I tried standing. Unsteady and in pain, I managed to make my way towards Caesar's shack. If I could have gotten down on my hands and knees, I'd have crawled.

—Señor Jim. What happened. Did you find Pilar?

—I was beat up in the park by three men. I don't know if Pilar SW there. I saw Keely. The girl. I couldn't get to her in time.

—A girl? What girl?

I figured I'd paid César enough in the past that he could afford to do me one more favor, at least.

—I need something, César. I need to know if you can help me.

I filled César in on the short version of why I was here with Pilar. I explained that I had been hired to search for a runaway girl by her family in America. I told him what happened in the park.

—I need a handgun, César.

He studied me for a long while before he spoke.

—You look to me like a man who knows how to use one.

I ignored him.

—You know firearms are illegal in Mexico.

—If you mean outlawed to everyone but cartel killers and criminals, then yes, I'm aware. Can you help me, or not? I'm willing to pay.

He must have known not to try to argue with me. He opened a beer and handed it to me. I eyed a bottle of tequila and he put that on the table, too, with a glass.

—I might be a while. Wait here.

—Make it an automatic if you can. With at least two mags. Full.

— _No problemo_.

César disappeared for what seemed like forever. I entertained myself with beer and tequila. He returned in the company of a short, rotund woman bearing a smile and a high-pitched voice and carrying a small bag.

— _Reacomodarse en el ascent_.

I looked up at César. I must have fallen over.

—Sit up. My wife wants to work on you.

I groaned. I tried. I gave up. Eventually the two of them managed to get me squared around. I didn't protest too much.

César produced another bottle of tequila. Mamasita cut off my shirt. In no time, I was shitfaced, taped, and ready to drive back to town. He put the handgun and the mags on the table. I traded him for cash.

—Gracias, César. Mucho gracias. If I get the chance, I'll return it.

—Perhaps not a good idea if you shoot someone, señor Jim.

I nodded. César helped me to my feet. I stumbled my way to the car on my own. I wasn't even halfway to the hotel before I began seeing double, weaving from one side of the road to the other in my tequila-induced stupor. I felt like a local cruising the boulevard in my rental. All I needed was some air shocks to jack up the back end.

Out front of the hotel, I bumped up on the curb, shifted into park, and stumbled up the staircase to the deserted room.

Pilar's bag lay open on the dresser. Her clothes and makeup remained as she left them. I marveled at the scent of her perfume lingering in the air. I didn't feel much like climbing into an empty bed we had too happily shared and made love in only hours before.

Drunk, sore, stiff and exhausted, I collapsed onto it anyway.

Hours later, I popped a couple of the painkillers César wife provided and waited for them to kick in. While I waited, I acted on the urge to look through Pilar's belongings. What is it about a man going through a woman's intimate apparel?

It occurred to me that I wanted to keep from walking out into the blinding sunlight with my _crudo grando_ hangover for just a little longer. Or maybe I wanted to look through her things, needing a measure of comfort that we had actually been together, if only briefly.

I flipped her bag open. It was jam-packed with only a bit of makeup that she didn't need and all manner of clothes and shoes. No wonder she cursed so loudly trying to close it. I gave up trying not to disturb anything and slipped my hand to the back of the bag. I was searching for, I don't know, whatever it was I was searching for.

At the very bottom of the suitcase my fingers tripped over something. I grabbed it and pulled out a manila envelope stuffed with papers and newspaper clippings. My Spanish wasn't so bad that I couldn't recognize a grainy newspaper photo of Pilar's grandmother.

The caption mentioned one of her granddaughters by name. Amalia had disappeared only months before according to the date at the top of the page.

Ensenada figured prominently in a paragraph of the story, along with a picture of the missing girl. She looked to be a younger version of Pilar, and just as pretty.

It all started to come together. When I asked Pilar whether she wanted a translating job, she must have figured she'd use me to get to Ensenada and begin the search for her own missing sister. I wondered if seducing me had anything to do with the plan.

I no longer knew what or who to believe. Pilar had her own agenda. I saw that now. I'd been taken for a sucker yet again. Why she chose not to tell me, I could only imagine.

The painkillers began kicking in. I pocketed the grainy newspaper photo and groaned as I slipped César's automatic into the small of my back. I was hoping that whoever tried to convince me to leave town wouldn't think I'd have reason to stay.

This time when I tripped over them, I'd be more than ready.

* * *

**I TOOK MY** chances and struggled to make my way slowly along the malecón. I stopped often to rest. Thanks to César's wife, her roll of tape and outstanding painkillers, I found I could move in relative comfort if I didn't do too much of it.

Running, if I had to do it, would be another story.

Pilar's sister Amelia went missing a lot time before Keely. With her bad newspaper photo and a bit of luck, I might catch someone who recognized her. I ended up no better off, as Pilar had on the malecón the night before.

The few that did talk all mentioned the park where I had taken the beating. Someone explained in heavily accented English that the park was a hangout for runaways and others. I didn't need to ask what others meant. Last night's beating clued me in to that.

It was too early to make my way to the park. Instead, I took up residence on a bench beside a taquería that smelled too good to be true. I settled in with two and two—two tacos and two Pacificos to wash them down. I winced at the thought that my kidneys needed the flushing.

By the time I finished, I was feeling pretty good about my day, but I feared it was due to the two beer and the drugs. I made some small talk with the vendor. We shared a couple of laughs about white-legged gringos. When I figured I'd broken the ice, I asked about what went on in the park.

Prostitution was a part of it. Drugs. Firearms. The usual. She was only too happy to inform me that runaways also frequented the place, led there by men they encountered-boyfriends, lovers, pimps. Other miscreants.

I hinted at wanting to set up on the outskirts to look for the two missing women. She suggested I should park somewhere with a good view and wait. Something was bound to begin happening around twilight and go on from there as long as it stayed dark.

I tipped her and she wished me luck. I couldn't help notice that she shook her head, too. Either my tip was too little, or my prospects of surviving an encounter in the park were slim to none.

It was still too early. I headed back to the hotel, arranged the chairs to get comfortable, and took a seat. Eventually, still sitting to avoid the pain as best I could, I dozed off.

Just as my dream began working its way towards to including Pilar, the door to the room burst open. My head snapped up. This time I was ready. My hand closed on the automatic. I managed to get it pointed towards the door before I opened my eyes.

I got lucky. The teaser probes bounced off mamasita's tape job. I shot off a single round. It smashed into the door frame. Splinters and too much dust scattered. Footsteps running down the hall and cursing in Spanish were all I could make out.

With my assailants disappeared, I was too bent out of shape from the beating to care. They missed. That was all that mattered.

That, and who the hell thought I was going to be a threat?

Obviously I'd ruffled someone's feathers, most likely because of my mission in the park. I wouldn't be waiting around for the backup team to show. There was no way I was staying another night in this dump without Pilar. I popped a couple of painkillers and high-tailed it down to the front desk, groaning all the way under the weight of the woman's luggage.

I rattled the desk clerk to see what I could get out of him. It didn't go well. He declined to speak English. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. I checked out and proceeded to grunt my way through hauling the heavy suitcase to the car.

The hard part was loading it into the back. After I loaded myself behind the wheel, it took another ten minutes to get a parking spot that let me keep an eye on the park entrance.

It was a family place in during the day. Mothers with children. Couples holding hands. Groups of elders using it for exercise.

It turned out to be a long wait. I dozed off and on in the hot interior. The lot started to clear out the minute it began to get dark. The few streetlights I spotted had been disabled, probably shot out like the others.

This was the place I needed to be.

The same lime-green van idled slowly past my car. There was now no doubt. I wheezed and crouched down and watched the van as it pulled into the park entrance ignoring the no vehicles sign.

I waited for the black of night before I tested the waters by stepping out. I didn't feel so bad thanks to two more painkillers just to dull the ache. I was committed to finding Pilar or to die trying. An added bonus would be getting a line on the runaway I'd been hired to locate. If I could end up two for two, I'd be ecstatic.

And then I remembered. Pilar's sister. Amelia. What were the odds that she'd be a part of the deal? They had to be pretty good. I couldn't let it overwhelm me. I figured if I find one, I find them all.

If last night's beating thanks to Keely didn't tell me anything, whoever broke into my room left a pretty good impression. I had to be headed down the right track, and that track led through the park.

I pretended to stroll around like a lost gringo. I located the van parked out of sight behind a clump of bushes. Music blared from the open doors.

I drew as close as I could without announcing anything. I couldn't get a good look inside the dark interior. A second van approached. I stretched out in the dirt and crawled on my hands and knees to the edge of the clearing. Low bushes obscured my view.

I stuck my head up only high enough for a clear view of the spot where the vans were parked. Three women shared a bench. Two of them nattered back and forth in Spanish so fast I couldn't understand a word. Sisters. I knew that before I even managed to get a look at their faces.

The third had to be Keely. I could only hope.

Now all I had to do was get to them, convince Keely that I was a friend with her best interests at heart, and get them all to the car.

No problemo.

That the sisters were talking in Spanish with Keely like long lost friends set alarm bells ringing. The girl was fluent. I wondered if Pillar and her sister could be attempting to set Keely up before the kidnappers hauled her off with the rest of them?

Pilar spotted me first. I watched, relieved, as she whispered something to the woman beside her. She had to be her sister. They pretended to ignore me and started in on the girl who gave me up to the beating last night.

I didn't have any illusions. I figured Keely would be the last to welcome me into the fold.

None of them were bound. They were obviously free to roam, which told me whoever was watching over them wasn't expecting trouble. Unless Keely had a weapon, I figured I'd be home free. Already I had an image in my head of the four of us racing out of the park in the car.

Two men exited the second van. One carried a briefcase. He popped it to show whatever was in it to someone in the lime green number. The distraction was my chance to get to the women.

Everyone concentrated on the money shot in the briefcase. I raced for the van, huffing and wheezing like a man who'd taken a beating. The keys had to be in the ignition if I was going to get our asses out of here. I took my time flipping visors and looking under floor mats. The ashtray turned out to be the hiding place of choice.

I started the van, slammed it into drive, and wheeled around to crash through the playground and more than a few plastic benches on my way to Pilar and anyone else who wanted to come along for the ride. My mission was short lived.

Before I knew it, automatic fire had taken out both rear tires. By the sound of it, it was an AK pointed in my direction. Rapid-fire lead shredded the back door. I kept going, playing oblivious to the obvious.

In other words, I was in deep shit.

I managed to get to the girls. They grabbed Keely, tossed her through the sliding door, and followed close behind.

Pilar climbed over into the front seat.

—Your sister.

—Si. Amalia.

—Will she be able to handle Keely.

—Oh, si. No problema, señor Jim.

Her black eye stood out like a bruised peach.

— _Mamacita, qué buena estás_. When did you get that?

—Keely wouldn't listen to us. She didn't understand that we were serious. When she slugged me, she took me by surprise.

I grinned. She took my hand, and we crashed out of the park.

—We are even, though. She needed to have two black eyes, but now she understands.

We rumbled down the street on two flat rear tires. Sparks flew as I screeched to a halt beside the rental.

—The keys are in the car. Stay as close to me as you can.

—Did you bring my clothes and makeup?

—Si, baby, but you're pretty enough without makeup. Now stay close, okay?

She was pretty enough for no clothes, but now definitely wasn't the time.

—Bueno.

I couldn't drive fast enough to lose her. Pilar stayed on my bumper until the skinny rims wore down to the lug nuts and gave out a couple of miles down the road. I grunted through helping her sister load Keely into the back of the rental. I groaned and got back behind the wheel.

—Are you hurt bad, Jeem? You look horrible.

—Thanks. I think. I know I look a lot worse than you do. I took a beating in the park last night. That doesn't matter. You're safe now. That's what matters.

I looked at her, and then back at the road. I'd just thought of another problem.

—We can't cross the border with the girl. I don't have her passport, and you don't have yours, either.

—What are we going to do?

—I'll call her parents and have them meet us in Tijuana. It'll be their problem from there.

—Jeem.

—Si?

—Gracias.

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Her black eye was impressive.

—You know your makeup won't hide that thing, right?

She sighed.

— _Si. Me sienta bien?_ Do I look all right?

—It doesn't matter. You're still beautiful and I think I love you.

She sighed again.

—Si, I love you, too, Jeem.

Pilar gave me directions to her grandmother's. The woman greeted us like the lost children we were. Why she included me after I had apparently seduced her daughter into marrying me, I had no idea.

—Does she think I seduced you?

—Well, I am not going to tell her I seduced you. I am a good and innocent granddaughter.

I got the distinct feeling that nothing mattered with grandma now that her missing granddaughter had been returned home safe and sound.

Pilar tried to explain that we weren't actually married. That didn't seem to matter. Grandma hugged me and dragged me in to sit at the table. She cracked a bottle of tequila and we drank to a long, glorious and happy life more than a few times.

Pilar tut-tutted and shook her head.

—I think _mi abuela_ likes you.

She looked worried when I went all serious on her.

—Will you come back with me?

—Back? _Hacia donde?_

—To my house. Si. _Mi casa_. To live with me.

—But I don't have a passport. I am unable to cross the border.

—Can you get one? I'll come back for you.

—Oh Jeem. I don't know-

She smiled and I was hooked. Still.

—I have some time off coming. We could spend it together until you get tired of me.

—Si. In that case, until I get tired of you.

—Do I get to keep the upgrade until you decide?

—No. Por favor, I must return it tomorrow. I might not have a job.

I picked up another _renta_ and Pilar took pity on me and showed me around her favorite spots where she grew up in Tijuana. We took grandma around the city to visit some of her friends that time and age had kept from her. She appeared happy that I showed interest in her granddaughter, as she did in me.

At least, I thought so. She smiled and introduced me to everyone. Pilar grinned and blushed and held my hand. I figured if she wasn't going to marry me by now, there was no chance in hell she was going to apply for a passport.

Finally, it came time to separate at the border. It was all I could do to turn away. It was the longest walk I took in a very long time. I thought about Kara and how continuing my search for her at this late date had turned out to be a dead end.

Of course it was. It had to be. There was nothing remaining for me to find. I doubled my pace to my side of the border.

I hoped Pilar wouldn't have a long wait for her passport.

###

No Harbor

Jim Nash #12

_Jim Nash is well on his way to recovery from the mistakes in his past. He's in his second marriage and very happy. His job at the resort is secure. Then a blast from the past re-emerges and threatens to throw a wrench into his plans for the future. Will his bond with the love of his life be endangered? Tempted by old and familiar love into leaving the only safe harbor he has known, Jim is forced to make choices that could forever affect the new life he has chosen._

**EVEN I HAD** to admit things were going good. I flew across to meet up with a happy Pilar and her family in Tijuana. Abuelita was happy to see me still. Pilar brought out her brand new passport to show me.

I couldn't wait any longer. I dug in my pocket for the ring. I got down on one knee. I opened the box and plucked out the ring. I held it out to Pilar. I didn't get a chance to present it.

Her hands covered her mouth and she screamed. Her sisters screamed and surrounded her. All of them jumped up and down. Abuelita grinned from the kitchen door and winked at me. She waved me into the room and fished a familiar bottle of tequila out of the same cupboard as she had done months ago. She permitted me to pour shots for two.

We drank and danced with each other in absolute happiness. For a while, I was the solitary dance partner to grandma and to all of Pilar's gorgeous sisters.

Eventually, I even got a chance to present Pilar with the ring.

I don't know what time I ended up on the sofa in the living room. The next morning, accompanied by the entire family, Pilar and I proceeded to the church to make the arrangements. Then the day before the event, we attended the church to present all the required documents.

We spent a week at a resort just north of Ensenada before returning to Ensenada to spend time with her family. Another week later, with documents in hand, we all boarded taxis to the border. The happy couple strolled down the walkway to the corridor followed by applause and laughter and clapping.

In five minutes, I was across. While I waited, Pilar followed with a minimum of border guard fuss. We hopped on the bus to the airport and boarded our flight east.

Six hours later, we touched down on the coast. Pilar checked in with her family. Her sisters and grandma were relentless over the speaker, wanting to know all about the questioning at the border and the long flight. Reluctantly, Pilar ended the call.

—Tears of happiness, I hope.

—Of course, _Jeem_. What else would they be?

Her voice took on a hint of nervousness. I knew by the way she said my name. I never let on. Best to keep at least one secret. Besides, I couldn't blame her for being upset. She was leaving her family behind, after all.

We met up with the amphibious Caravan charter. Twenty minutes after loading luggage and boarding, the plane lifted off. Pillar's wide eyes and nervous smile kept me grounded. She took my hand the instant the small plane began taxiing and held on for the entire flight. I was reminded of our trip on the panga during a time that seemed to be so long ago.

I helped Pilar out of the Caravan. With her feet firmly planted on the dock, she took a look around. I cast a nervous eye over her, unsure of her reaction to what she took in. I hoped introducing her to Warren would help to calm her fears.

—Jeem?

It was the way she pronounced my name. That bit of accent she took on in her voice when she was unsure.

—Si?

—Are we going to be living in a room in a hotel?

It wasn't what I expected. It scared me into acting fast. I didn't want her thinking we'd be spending the rest of our marriage in a shabby, twin-bed hotel room.

—Take off your shoes.

Pilar leaned on me and kicked them off.

—Now close those brown eyes that make me so happy.

I pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket and covered her eyes. Warren arrived just in time to help me with the bags. I covered my lips with a finger to keep him quiet as I took Pilar's hand and led her towards the unseen bungalow just over the rise.

—I hope you won't be too disappointed in our accommodations.

We reached the crest of the dune. I picked Pilar up and carried her the rest of the way to the patio. Warren fumbled while opening the door and I entered the bungalow with Pilar in my arms.

A grinning Warren set down our bags and hurried to disappear the way he came.

The blindfold came off.

—All right. You can open them now.

Pilar's gasp and sharp intake of breath told me everything I wanted to know. Her wide smile and sparkling eyes added to my excitement. She was happy.

— _Jeem? What ees this?_

—It's not a room in the hotel, but it's the next best thing. What do you think?

—It is the best ever.

She jumped into my arms. I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way through the beach house and into the bedroom.

—You only have to stay here if you like it. What do you think? Will you stay?

I wasn't expecting what she did next. Pilar pulled the curtains, undressed, and climbed on the bed. She patted a spot beside her. I didn't need to be asked twice.

Pilar nudged me awake and whispered into my ear. I sat up and focused my eyes on the naked woman.

— _Jeem_. There is someone at the door.

—Well then go and answer it. It's your home, too.

She struggled out of bed and headed for the door. I called her back.

—Put some clothes on unless you want every man in the place to come knocking.

She returned pushing a tray. She was just as naked as when she left.

—So then, you gave away a quick peek in exchange for the cart?

She giggled and set the tray on the bed.

—No, silly. Breakfast is served.

—But it's two a.m.

—Someone must be thinking of us. I opened the door to peek out. The cart was alone. There was no one.

Either Warren was working overtime, or he had arranged for someone to take care of us. It sure wasn't me. Food was the last thing on my mind when my eyes took in a naked Pilar.

I struggled out of bed and dressed, leaving Pilar to sleep. I made my way to the coffee shop for my usual morning meet-up with Warren. Already the women already were talking. Whispers and giggles followed as I made my way to the counter and gave my standard order of coffee and a waffle.

There was something new this morning. Warren was missing, but I ended up with strawberries and whipped cream to go with the waffles. Damned if everyone wasn't looking at me as I dug in. I waved and they all clapped.

News travels fast, even in a place this big.

The cook took my bill and threw it in the trash. I grinned and waggled a finger at him before taking the cash out of my pocket and depositing it on the counter. I only pretended. It didn't really bother me.

My next stop was the marina with two cups of coffee. Warren joined me and we relaxed under the umbrella. I couldn't stop grinning.

—Where's your partner in crime?

—I left her to sleep. She was so excited and happy. She couldn't stop grinning and smiling and laughing. When she wakes up she'll be on the phone for a while with her grandmother and her sisters, I'm sure.

Warren grinned right along with me.

—Yeah. I can only imagine. It's probably my last chance to enjoy a coffee with you. I get the feeling it just might be the last for a while—if not forever.

—Oh come on. How bad could it be? Once Pilar gets settled in, things will go back to normal. She'll probably want to join us.

—Uh-huh. And Santa and the Easter bunny are real, too.

I wished that to be true also.

It wasn't unusual during my former single life, after a night out partying hard with Warren, that I'd spring for breakfast or lunch for two down on the dock. We ate in the marina office or beneath and umbrella if it wasn't busy, taking turns in our attempts to claim the biggest hangover.

There'd be no more nights out without my wife. To make my point, I had showed up with coffee minus the food.

—Are we starting a new thing? What's with the liquid breakfast?

—I figured I'd stop spoiling you since we won't be having our nights out any more. You're good with that, right?

He looked at me like I was crazy.

—Man, if you told me anything different, I'd toss you off the end of the dock.

I cast my gaze down to the water and then took in the wharf. Someone had tied off a sweet-looking sloop at the end.

I allowed myself to daydream briefly. I thought about Pilar and me, and sailing off towards the horizon, while leaving everything behind but what we could carry.

I sighed, and came back to earth. The sailing part of my life was over for a long time.

—The sailboat at the end of the wharf. Did you notice it? She came in late yesterday.

I hadn't noticed it then. More pressing matters had concerned me, all of which were about Pilar, my beautiful wife.

I looked again, and I had to admit, it was a nice looking sailboat. From where I sat, she looked to be well maintained. Warren kept on talking up the boat.

—She looks sweet, doesn't she? And almost brand new.

I walked down for a better look. He was right. It did look almost new. To be truthful, I didn't care a whit about boats any more. I'd gotten them out of my system long ago.

Warren called out.

—It's captained by a woman. She showed up wondering if we had a doctor or a nurse on the grounds. I sent her to our in-house clinic.

—Was she all right? Did you check on her?

—She had a little guy with her. I showed her where she needed to go.

Warren hesitated before continuing.

—The boat has a weird name, though.

I strolled to the stern to take a look. I froze. I looked again. Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. I almost went to my knees before I caught myself. I stumbled on my way back to the table beneath the umbrella.

—You don't look so good, Jim. Did you manage to get any sleep last night?

I collapsed into the chair.

—It's the heat. It's beginning to get to me today for some reason.

Warren allowed me catch my breath before going on.

—You look like you're having a heart attack. If I didn't know you were healthy, I'd call for the doctor.

—No, no. I'll be fine. Let me catch my breath. Pilar and I—

He laughed and held up a hand.

—No need for that. I don't want the dirty details, my friend.

—And in any case you wouldn't be getting them.

He quickly changed the subject. I was certain it was because he wanted me to know he had only been joking.

—Did you notice the name on the stern?

In fact, I had noticed the stern. And I noticed the name on it. I couldn't figure it. My brain had gone numb. Frozen. My heart continued its pounding.

—Judging by the sweat pouring off of you, I'd say you must have caught the bug going around this place.

—Oh? What's that?

I already knew it wasn't a bug. It was life, come back from the dead to haunt me though no fault of my own. Surely not. Not after all these years. It couldn't be.

—It's nothing serious. The doc has treated a few cases so far. Perhaps you caught the end of it.

I couldn't hear Warren through the pounding in my ears. My breathing labored. I couldn't stop the shaking. Thoughts and memories of a past life continued to force their way into my consciousness.

What was the sloop doing tied to our wharf? How had it found this place? What was going on? I was completely clueless. And why wouldn't I be? I had no prior knowledge.

If it was her, how did she find out I was here? How could it be her? She was dead. I saw the boat explode. She had been on board. I searched for weeks. Months.

I never found her.

What the hell was happening with my life? I had it all figured out, and now, within the space of twelve hours, it was in complete turmoil. It had to be a bad dream.

I came back to earth and caught the tail end of Warren's conversation.

—I could be wrong, but I think that sloop has the same name as the boat you told me about.

I pretended I hadn't noticed the name.

—Why do you say that?

My voice went hoarse. I took a slug of coffee. It didn't do any good. I wished for a drink instead.

—You know, the one you told me about. The one that exploded. What was it? It's on the tip of my tongue.

I didn't say another word. I couldn't. I stayed frozen in the chair. I wanted to get up and run back to the bungalow and Pilar and our new home. If I could just crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head-

I couldn't get up. My breathing stayed ragged. Sweat continued pouring down the back of my shirt.

Warren pushed back the deck chair and went into the marina office. The resort kept a record of the boats that tied off on its wharf. He returned with the registry under one arm. He fanned the pages, scanning. His fingers settled on the last one.

—The Saskia. Saskia II, actually. Here, take a look.

He dropped the book in front of me.

I didn't need to look. Sweat continued to bead on my forehead and run down my face. I still couldn't move. I couldn't think. I wondered how long it would be before Warren put it together.

—Jim, you don't look so good. Maybe you need to head home to your girl.

How could I? I was deep into a nightmare that had started all over again. Already I knew it was about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

**FOOTSTEPS COMING DOWN** the wharf grew louder. A faster double step intruded on the longer glide as the footsteps kept up their slapping on the dock.

I managed to inhale a huge breath of air. It caught in my throat and only made matters worse. I gasped and coughed and my eyes began watering. I couldn't catch my breath fast enough. Warren unwittingly updated me on the approaching terror.

—Here comes the owner now.

He couldn't have known the unceasing trepidation that was building from the moment I saw the name on the transom. In fact, he couldn't have known anything, beyond what I had told him. He had no idea of the ghost in my new nightmare and how close I was to screaming out in terror.

In another minute, my nightmare would end when it turned out to be complete coincidence. But I knew that wasn't possible. I'd never called Allie about the DNA on the diving mouthpiece I'd sent her. I was getting soft over the years.

I believed Kara to be dead. I witnessed the explosion with my own eyes. There was hardly anything of the sloop left. No one could have survived. I searched up and down the shoreline for weeks. I found nothing—nothing but the rebreather. I didn't think it strange at the time.

There was no way she could be alive. All I had to do was to keep repeating it often enough for it to be true. There was no way Kara could be alive.

My nightmare would be over when I got a look at the approaching woman. She would turn out to be a stranger. It was all a coincidence. It had to be.

I remained seated in the chair, frozen, barely able to breathe. Sweat poured off of my forehead. I wiped off with a napkin and hoped for the best.

—You look like you're about to pass out.

Warren wasn't wrong. It was how I felt, too.

—Too many drinks last night, probably.

I barely managed to get the words out. My voice was hoarse and panicky, even to me.

—You were drinking last night? I'd have put good money on something else, but hey, it's your life.

Yes, it was, and my life was about to get a lot more complicated. Thoughts and memories ran through my brain at lightning speed.

I'd never called Allie after sending her the mouthpiece I'd cut off of the rebreathing equipment I discovered on the beach near Ensenada. My note asked her if she wouldn't mind testing it for a match against Kara's sister's DNA.

It never occurred to me to check to see if she did it. I figured she'd have gotten back to me on her own with the news. She hadn't. Or, maybe there was no match.

It was a long shot, but it could have gone that way. Or maybe by then, I gave up caring. I had every right. If Kara was alive, why hadn't she bothered to contact me? Why didn't she try to find me?

She had to have known it would drive me to the ends of the earth to lose her. And to lose our baby.

The footsteps grew louder. I straightened in the chair and tensed.

—Hey there, sailor. I've been looking for you.

The voice. It was hers. A little deeper. Yet still the same. My nightmare of the past two years was now complete. I pushed back from the table.

A gentle hand on my shoulder prevented me from rising. It was just as well. I couldn't have gotten up anyway. She seemed awfully nonchalant about it all, though. I wondered if I'd be the same were I in her shoes.

And then I remembered I was in my own shoes, and I sure as hell wasn't nonchalant about anything this morning.

—There's someone I want you to meet.

I forced myself to turn. The boy kept close to his mother. Her other hand rested on his shoulder, as though to keep him sheltered. We were linked that way, with Kara's hands on both of us.

Perhaps she thought I might explode and was only making sure nothing bad would happen.

—This is James. Son, I'd like you to meet Jim. He was a very good friend a long time ago.

I knew coming back here after marrying Pilar would turn out to be a huge mistake. Why hadn't I gone someplace else? Why did I have to return to somewhere familiar for a new beginning?

I could have gone inland to a dozen other places far removed from the Gulf and sailboats and water and dead wives who were no longer dead.

It all ran through my head in a second. I had no chance to get it together. Pilar chose exactly that moment to join me on the wharf's patio. Before I knew it, I had Kara and her son—our son?—on one side of me, and Pilar on the other.

— _Jeem? Who is theese?_

The nervous accent returned to Pilar's voice. She didn't sound happy. And no wonder. I'd be wondering the exact same thing were our positions reversed and I'd witnessed a too-familiar hand placed on her shoulder.

My first instinct was to cut and run. I wanted to lock myself in a room at the hotel and toss the key card over the balcony after unlocking the bar fridge.

I rejected that. I couldn't be fast enough to escape the wrath of Pilar once she learned what was going on.

My second instinct was preservation. I had a new life. I had a woman that I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We'd been talking about having children, the sooner, the better for both of us.

Unlike the last woman in my life, Pilar wouldn't be faking her own death—at least, not so far as I could tell. Pilar stood beside me in the panga following my explanation of how I had lost Kara. She comforted me. She took care of me. She stood by me.

She made me feel good about myself all over again. I'd be god-damned if I'd be kissing that goodbye, no matter what was going on. I pushed back my chair and stood up. Kara's hand fell from my shoulder.

—Pilar, I'd like you to meet Kara.

Pilar leaned against me for support. My arm went around her and then allowed her to slip into the chair I had just left. I put myself between the two women, unsure of what might be coming next.

This—whatever this was—was not good. It was not good at all.

A long discussion in Mexican between Pilar and Kara took over. I knew better than to try to make a getaway from my new life with Pilar. In any case, I couldn't. Pilar and I were just beginning our journey.

Pilar wasn't kind with the swear words. Kara flung them back at her just as fast and as incomprehensible. I stayed close to Pilar, worried, still uncertain, and afraid for all three—now four—of us.

Kara had taken it upon herself to desert me. I never learned the reason why. I doubted I'd ever find out at this late date.

The life we planned on having together had deserted me a long time ago. Whatever it was that had convinced her that was a good thing, I didn't want to know. I didn't care any more.

All those hours on the water, searching and searching and searching and not giving up and finally giving up and staying drunk for months—it was all for—

For what? All for this? In that case, just what the hell was this?

I didn't know where to start. Warren, young as he was, ended up saving the day. He ushered Kara and her son away from the wharf and back to the hotel. He must have stayed with them. They didn't return.

I wondered if Kara had mellowed in the five or six years since I'd last seen her. Six years. That's how far it was behind me. I'd let it all go. I wasn't even sure how long it had been any more.

—Pilar.

—Si.

— _Te amo tanto_. Only you. I love only you.

Pilar offered a hand.

—Come with me.

She ushered me down the length of the wharf. She halted at the sloop moored at the far end.

—So this is the boat that exploded?

I took a deep breath before the words began tumbling out.

—Well, it's a twin of the original. It's newer, and in better shape. But yes, this is a lot like the one that exploded.

She didn't hesitate. I was grateful for that.

—So she managed to get off, somehow. And she's alive. And she has had her baby. He's not so much a baby any more, is he?

—Yes. No. I don't care any more, Pilar. It's about you now. And me. Us. Together. Together because we want it that way.

—But your son. What about him? He looks like her, though, doesn't he?

I'd gotten a good look at him, too. I didn't know what to think any more, so I agreed.

—Yes. He looks like his mother for sure.

We sighed, together. It was as though we were joined not only in marriage, but in a problem that would end up overwhelming both of us.

—I think we will be all right, Jim. Do you?

—I think so, too.

I didn't hesitate. I couldn't if I wanted to. Pilar put her arm around me and I put my arm around her and we walked to the bungalow.

Inside, I couldn't settle down. I paced, back and forth. Finally, Pilar managed to get me onto the sofa. She handed me a coffee.

—What are we going to do?

—I'd like to think of it as what I am going to do. That woman and the life we had is in my past. If Kara's son is mine, I'll accept the responsibility. But I won't take her back. That part is over between us, Pilar.

I might have sounded sane, but I was still in shock. Everything was running through my mind. Pilar held up a hand.

—Before you say another word, it is not _what you are going to do_. It is what we are going to do. You, and me.

I barely heard her. I couldn't understand how someone who had said she loved me, someone who had fought alongside of me, who had fought for me on the beach against the killer Lana, could forsake me with nary a word of warning.

How could a woman I once loved have been so cold and heartless? She claimed she was carrying our son. She'd stolen him from me when she pretended to be dead. Or was that a lie, too?

Everything I once knew and loved had crumbled under the weight. If I wasn't careful, all of it would collapse and take both Pilar and me with it. I needed to get through this as fast as I could.

—Pilar. What did you say to Kara?

—Are you sure you want to know?

She didn't wait for my answer.

—I cursed her out for deserting you. For lying to you. For cheating on you. For just about everything I could think of. It was a good Mexican string of curses. She knew what I was saying. I thought she was going to hit me.

That's just what I was afraid of. Kara was a killer. I hadn't given her skills in that department a second thought when we were together. It was a different matter entirely now. My concern was for Pilar only and her safety with this woman around.

—Promise me you won't be alone with her. Promise me now, Pilar. I mean it. You have to promise that if she gets close to you, that you'll turn and run the other way.

And for emphasis.

—No matter what.

Warren took it upon himself to tell me that he'd seen the two women and the boy sharing a table. The discussion was heated in the resort's cafe. By the time I got there, they were gone. One of the staff said they had left together.

I worried about Pilar. Kara was a good talker. She'd fooled me. There was no doubt she'd be able to fool a much younger Pilar. While she was a strong, capable woman, a congenital liar would have no trouble convincing Pilar to do her bidding—especially since she was committed to our life together.

By the time I returned to our bungalow, Pilar was waiting. To my relief, she didn't try to hide anything.

—I talked with Kara this morning.

—I heard. I have my spies.

She grinned.

—Of course you do. And I have been here only three days and I already have spies, too. But mine are only concerned with that woman since she arrived. Now that it is known how she treated you, they will all be on our side.

—Pilar—

She needed to stay away from that woman. She needed a bodyguard when the two of them were together. She needed to be far, far away from here.

—Don't worry, señor Jim. I will be careful.

I smiled and held her in my arms. She had lost the accent.

—Will you stop calling me señor? I'm too young for that yet.

We kissed, long and slow. How was I going to tell the woman I loved that she needed to go away from here, the sooner the better?

—I like to tease you. It's fun.

—Pilar—

I had to tell her. I couldn't wait any longer. It was important that she know about Kara's background. About my background with her, too.

—Come and sit with me.

I moved to the sofa and she followed. I took her hands and looked her straight in the eye. If that didn't get her attention, I didn't know what would.

—Kara is a killer.

There was no other way to put it. I had to be direct if it was going to have any effect on her. She had to understand. I had to make her understand.

At first, there was doubt. It was written all over her face. She didn't believe me. Doubt turned to disbelief and it too was written on her face.

I told her how the two of us met. About the deaths of our friends at the hands of others. I told her about our last assignment in Mexico. About how it had gone sideways until finally proving successful.

Slowly, Pilar began to believe me. She asked a few questions. I answered as best I could without giving up too much information on the operations I had been on with Kara.

At the end of it all, her face turned white. She told me she was scared.

—We'll be all right. But you can't go anywhere with her, Pilar. Not unless I'm with you. Or someone else is with you. You can't be with her alone. I won't allow it. In fact, I forbid it.

I knew as soon as I said it that I shouldn't have. Forbid wasn't a word to use with this woman. Pilar was strong and independent. Perhaps she might feel as though I was ordering her around. I sure as hell hoped not.

—I want you to go back to your grandmother's for a while. Will you do that for me? For us?

She stood up and walked out to the patio. I waited before following her, wanting more than anything else to hear her quiet _si_. It was the only thing I could get her to do that would keep her safe for the time being. She had to go along with me. She had to.

—I will not be deserting you, my husband, for anyone, or anything. We will face this, whatever it is, together.

I saved the worst for last.

—You do understand that you and I are no longer married. With Kara reappearing the way she has, I'm still married to her.

There was no reaction. Pilar stood. She wandered into the kitchen and stood looking over the dune towards the ocean.

Just when I thought everything was going good for the two of us, Pilar disappeared.

* * *

**I STARTED WITH** Warren, since he'd been the first to warn me that he'd seen the two women together. The look on his face said trouble.

—Pilar asked me not to tell you. I have to anyway.

He pointed out to sea. The sloop was about a mile away, under sail.

—Binoculars. Do you have any?

I focused them in time to see Pilar's white blouse and bright yellow skirt on the yacht.

—Goddammit. I practically begged that woman not to have anything to do with Kara. Now she's on board her sloop.

—I tried to stop her. She wouldn't listen.

—Yeah, tell me about it. Neither one of them listens much—not that that's a bad thing, but in this case—

Warren took the binoculars and studied the sloop.

—I saw James get on board too. Perhaps that's a good sign.

I relaxed, but only a bit.

—If I know Pilar, she's trying to find out everything she can about Kara's intentions. I don't think she believes that James is my son. Frankly, I'm not entirely convinced, either.

—Why do you doubt it?

Judging by the question, the whole resort had to know what was happening. I thought for a bit before replying.

—Everything that woman told me up until the moment she disappeared, I believed. Until I spotted the rebreather equipment that washed ashore. From then on, I had a niggling doubt.

I took a deep breath and went on.

—Of course, now, all my doubts are being realized. There's only one way she could be alive, and that's if she planned on the destruction of the yacht. I'm left wondering if she planned on blowing it all up while I was still on board.

—You'll never know now.

—You're right. She'd never tell me the truth. And even if she did, I wouldn't believe her. Isn't that a horrible thing to say about a woman I once loved?

—You have Pilar now. She's your love.

I didn't hesitate for a second.

—Yes, she is. And I'll never do anything to jeopardize that.

I waited anxiously in the marina cafe. I sat with my back to the wall and watched the sloop being expertly sailed by Kara. The staff must have thought I was nuts to keep raising the binoculars to look through the glass. Occasionally, I'd see Pilar's bright yellow skirt and know she was safe—for now, at least.

When the sloop finally turned and headed towards shore, I let out a well-deserved sigh of relief. I thought about confronting Pilar on the wharf. Instead, I left the cafe and went to wait in the bungalow, still on edge and still worried.

Pilar needed to go back to her grandmother and her sisters until this fiasco got sorted out. I thought about having her disappear on the charter amphib. It could be even sooner if she caught a powerboat ride with Warren. I made a note to ask him if he'd do it for me.

I was just about to go into the bedroom and pack a bag for her, and then I knew. She'd never do it. She was too headstrong. That was only one of the reasons I'd fallen in love with Pilar.

I almost sprinted to the door when I caught sight of Pilar on her way towards the house. Once I had her inside, I took her in my arms. Together we walked to the patio.

—Sit. We need to talk again. Right now.

—I know. You told me already. But—

—But you want to try to make everything good for everyone.

—Yes. But especially for you and for me. And James was on the boat with us. She wouldn't do anything with him there, would she?

I hesitated. I wasn't sure I should tell her what I was about to.

—You know all about the _desaparecido_. There are stories in the papers in Mexico almost every day. Your sister was one who managed to escape alive and get home.

—Yes. And that was because of you. I know that.

—Kara and I were almost desaparecidos as well. Kara's best friend saved us. Saskia's reward was to end up dead in a lime pit while dirt was piled over everyone in the pit.

—So that is the reason for the name of the boat.

—Yes. Saskia was the new name she gave to her friend's first sailboat—the one we claimed in the harbor and sailed south. The one she blew up off of Ensenada.

—But Jim—

—No, Pilar. I can't lose you. I can't afford to not have you in my life. It would kill me, too. I don't trust that woman any longer. She's dangerous. She's a stone cold killer. You need to know that about her.

I stared into her eyes.

—She showed no remorse as long as I was with her. None. Ever. Please don't be alone with her, ever again. Please.

I hoped she listened. I hoped she heard. I hoped that when next she spent time with Kara, that she would come home safe. It was the best I could hope for. Except.

I knew she'd be doing it again. Pilar would do as she pleased. I knew that. I interrupted my talk with Pilar and answered the door. It was Kara.

—We need to talk. Can I come in?

—No, you can't. Pilar, Kara and I are going for a walk. I'll be back in twenty minutes.

She looked at me. She was scared.

—It's all right. I won't be long.

I closed the door and headed towards the wharf. Kara followed. Warren was still on duty. I'd force him to be a witness to our conversation, whether he wanted to or not.

Kara placed the bag she was carrying on the table. She opened it and hauled out a sheaf of papers.

—You need to have these, Jim. They're all the things you need for James. His birth certificate. Baptism certificate. The hospital papers where he was born. Our marriage certificate.

I looked at her, wary. Confused.

—Why now, Kara? What took you so long? It's been almost six years. Not once did you try to get in touch. With me, or with your sister. What's up with that?

—I never resigned. I couldn't. I lied to you about that. They had me between a rock and a hard place. They forced me to get rid of you. Short of killing you, the explosion was the only way I could do it. I had to make you think I was dead.

—Buy you were pregnant. How do you think I ended up after losing both of you? You were my life. I counted on us being together.

—You counted wrong.

I jumped out of my chair. It tipped and clattered behind me. I couldn't believe the words coming out of the woman's mouth.

—I counted wrong? I counted wrong? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you so twisted, such a bad-ass, that you had no idea what it would do to me? I stayed drunk in Ensenada for six months.

—Yeah. So I heard.

—Jesus Christ. I don't believe it. You knew. You knew everything, didn't you?

—I guess so.

I shook my head.

—You'd better do more that guess now, don't you think?

I was fed up with all of it. I glared at her, not quite ready to leave.

—Don't forget to take the papers with you. There's life insurance there, too, for James.

—At least you're thinking of him and not yourself for a change.

I stared hard at this woman. It was as though I'd never known her. She was a stranger.

—I want a divorce.

I studied her face. There was no reaction. None.

—I think I can do better than that for you.

I finally had enough. I turned away. I left the papers on the table to scatter in the wind and hurried in the direction of the bungalow and the woman I loved.

If that wasn't a clue for the woman, I didn't know what would be.

As soon as the door opened, Pilar rushed into my arms.

—I told her I want a divorce. The sooner I'm rid of her, the better.

We settled on the sofa.

—The sooner we are rid of her, you mean. What about your son?

That was a tough one. After all the years of thinking I never had a child, I just learned I had one after all.

—Call me cold and heartless, but that will be up to Kara to decide. It's taken her six years to find me. I'm not sure she wants to dump it all on me right away.

—Do you think she wants to dump anything on you?

I stood up and went to the window. The yacht strained against its moorings, creaking and groaning as the wind increased. Perhaps there was a gale on the way.

—The woman must want something, Pilar. Otherwise, why would she find me now after such a long time? She didn't care in the slightest that I didn't know about our child. And why would she? For six years I didn't exist for her, just as she didn't exist for me.

—Yet, now she is back in your life, even if it's only for a short time.

I sighed.

—True. But she could slip the moorings and be gone at a moment's notice for another six years. Or for all eternity as far as that goes.

I shook my head at the absurdity and returned to sit with Pilar. A soft knock on the door interrupted us. Pilar stood to answer it. I gripped her arm and pulled her back on the sofa.

—No. I'll go. Remember what I told you.

It was James. A bright yellow waterproof pouch hung off his shoulder.

—Mom says you need to have this. She wants to meet with you tomorrow.

I hesitated and looked at Pilar. She nodded assent.

—Tell your mom I'll meet her on the boat.

I took the pouch and handed it to Pilar. She took it wordlessly.

—This is yours if anything happens to me.

—I will get Warren to watch over you. We will both watch over you. We will be inside the marina office.

I slept fitfully all night. Beside me, Pilar did the same. At different times during the night, one of us was out of bed, sighing, pacing, worrying.

—Señor Jim, come back to bed. We have both of us had enough.

—Didn't you once say, _a los que saben esperar les pasan cosas buenas?_

Pilar didn't hesitate.

—Si. _Ser para bien_. It's all for the best. Now come to bed. It is lonely here by myself.

We finally slept in each other's arms.

First thing in the morning I looked out the window, looking for the sloop. It was still bobbing at the end of the wharf. From what I could tell, it looked like Kara and Warren were in a heated conversation. Her arms waved and she gestured towards the bungalow. I didn't mention it to Pilar.

—Do you want breakfast?

I shook my head.

—Coffee will do. I've been on edge since she arrived. I think I should meet with her on an empty stomach. I'd like to find out what she plans on doing.

—I took a look at what was in the waterproof bag.

Pilar held up a key.

—What do you think this is for?

I turned it over to find a number stamped on one side.

—I'm not sure. A house? The yacht? It's not a normal key, for sure. Perhaps a safety deposit box. Was there anything in the papers?

—Nada. Nothing.

—Did you find anything else? A letter of explanation, perhaps?

—No. Did you think there might be?

—I hoped. But I wasn't going to go begging.

—Bueno. Because she doesn't seem to be the type to explain.

I pushed back from the table. I leaned over Pilar and kissed the top of her head while gently rubbing her shoulders.

—I will wait with Warren. I promise you.

* * *

**I BOARDED THE** sloop, searching for Kara. I intended to have it out with her, one way or the other. Disappointed that she wasn't on board, I considered returning to the dive shack. Rather than that, I took a better look at the sloop, thinking that if I delayed, she'd show up eventually.

Every bit of the rigging and hardware appeared brand new. The sails, too, from what I could see of them. Even the covers. All of it was in the right place and properly stored and secured.

The woman was definitely an accomplished sailor, but I already knew that. She'd be even more accomplished now, what with hauling around a child as she had been doing all these years.

My thoughts drifted while I continued waiting in the warm morning sunshine. I wondered who looked after the boy when she was on an operation. Then I decided I didn't need to know. It was none of my business. She made sure of that.

Below, curtained ports blocked the light. There was nothing to see in the dark. I returned topside and looked in the direction of the marina office. Pilar and Warren both were headed inside. Warren looked back and waved a spear gun in my direction.

He would be no match for Kara on her worst day. Nor would Pilar. Just knowing others were concerned for my well-being buoyed my spirits considerably.

Short steps trotting down the pier towards the sloop announced the arrival of James. Would his mother send the boy ahead to check the ground? It wouldn't surprise me that she would use him that way. According to her, they'd been inseparable since he arrived on the scene.

I reconsidered. Surely her own son, so young, would be of no use to her that way. Then I recalled Luis and Hermano, and how easily we had both used the children. I changed my mind, and knew she would after all.

The sleepless night I spent with Pilar finally caught up with me. I closed my eyes against the early morning's comfortable warmth and dozed off behind the helm. Kara's voice brought me to full attention and I squinted up at her.

—You look comfortable relaxing at the helm. Just like old times. And I'm pretty sure I know the reason, too, if I remember what we spent all of our spare time doing.

It took time to bring myself back to my reality. I didn't catch every word. Kara had donned her bikini, the way she always did when we were on the original Saskia. My eyes darted up and down her trim body.

If I didn't know better, in my stupor I'd have thought we were still on board her trusted friend's sloop. The woman hadn't gained a pound. If anything, she was in even better shape—more muscular, more tanned, more aware of her surroundings.

—How did you get the black eye? You didn't have it yesterday.

—I tangled with your wife. Or rather, your wife tangled with me. She won.

—You let her win, more likely. Your mind is made up, then.

Even I had to smile as I imagined how Pilar had gotten the drop on her to get a punch in. Kara must have thought the Mexican ball of fire I married would be a pushover. While I knew they were no match, Kara must have finally figured out that Pilar would end up fighting for both of us.

—She's a tough girl. You married a keeper. Don't let her get away.

—I already know that. And I don't plan on it.

That I had agreed to come to meet with her must have put the smile on her face. There was no way in hell I would ever again feel the same about her. My face locked in a determined look that said _Let's get this over with_ , the sooner the better. I wanted off this ghost ship. It represented a past I no longer believed I'd ever lived.

—Sitting at the helm brought back a lot of memories.

—I'm glad, Jim.

—Unfortunately, all of them went to shit after we dropped anchor off Ensenada. Everything went to hell from there, especially now that you've suddenly come back to life.

—I want to explain.

What was the use? It was meaningless. It was all lies. Everything had been a lie. I only wanted to be rid of her.

—There's no need. After seeing you this way, I know all I need to know.

I raised my hand, wanting to wave the woman off. Wanting her to see what I had now, in the present.

—I have a new life. So do you. You would have showed up a lot sooner if you wanted to reconnect. And you'd have showed up a hell of a lot sooner if you truly wanted to explain and beg forgiveness.

We both knew it was true.

—Did you look at the papers James brought over?

—Pilar looked them over. If she feels I need to know anything, she'll tell me. I have no need.

—She's awfully young. Do you trust her?

—Of course I do. Even more than I trusted you. There was a key. What's that for?

Kara hesitated. She looked in the direction of the marina. Warren and Pilar and James sat outside, under the umbrella. All three of them faced the two of us on the yacht. The spear gun was plainly visible on the table.

—He's a good friend.

—Yes he is. I trust him. That's why Pilar is with him now.

Even though I knew the two of them together would be no match for this woman who had upended my life.

I made my way forward, away from the tight quarters surrounding the wheel. My gaze returned to Kara. If I ignored the last six years, it was almost as though we hadn't skipped a beat.

She looked too good to be true, even now. She caught me looking. What she couldn't know was that I was re-appraising everything I thought I knew of our past.

—You could come with us. With James and with me.

Even after all the years of loss and doubt and agony the woman had willingly inflicted, I couldn't look away. The scent of coconut oil on her tanned body flooded me with so many memories. Happy memories. Too many memories. Somehow, in a split second, I managed to force the good memories out to replace them with the all of the bad from the last six years.

She wouldn't let it go.

—It would be just like old times. Sailing. Blue sky. White sand beaches. Making love under the moon and the stars and the sun. We'd be together again, Jim.

For an instant I actually considered it. Then I looked over at the marina. I knew Pilar's eyes would be on me. Were it not for her, I might have accepted Kara's offer.

—I looked for you for two years. Did you know that? I went back, time and again, looking. Searching. Wondering. Worrying. What had I missed? What had you said that might have clued me in? I came up with nothing.

I searched her face for a sign of empathy. There was none. She stayed silent.

—When I met Pilar, I was running on empty. I was a broken man. She knew it, too. She took me under her wing. She comforted me. She took care of me. Yes. She's young. But she built me back up. Were it not for her, I'd still be a broken, drunken excuse for a man.

I hesitated.

—Not any more. Thanks to her.

—I take it that's a no, then.

—There's no goddamned way in hell it's going to be a yes. Without her, I'd be nothing.

Kara pulled a key out of her bikini top and held it out.

—What's this?

—It's the second key to the safety deposit box in Cabo. The second one. The first is in the things James brought for you.

—In Cabo? A safety deposit box? What the hell?

—I beat you to the sloop. I was the one that ransacked the boat. I turned it upside down. I hauled the money to a Mexican bank. It's all in a safety deposit box. Your name and signature are on the papers in the bank.

I studied her face again, this time with disbelief.

—My signature? How-

—I forged it.

Of course. How could it be any other way? Our entire life together was a falsehood. A forgery. Made up. Fake.

—All you have to do is show up to get the cash. If Pilar is smart, she can forge my signature with a bit of practice.

I didn't believe her. Nothing she said made sense.

—Why didn't you tell me? I went broke looking for you. I had to borrow money. I could have used some of that cash to pay the bills for the six months I spent on the ground, searching for some sign. Waiting for wreckage to wash ashore.

—I wanted to. I tried. I couldn't. I knew you'd start to question everything. You'd doubt everything if I told you. I loved you. I wanted you to keep loving me.

There had to be more. I waited, wanting to scream at her. I didn't. She looked at me, expectantly.

—I did, Kara. I loved you for two years after I thought you were dead. I loved you until Pilar came into my life. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. After you, that is.

It was true. While we were together, Kara had been the best—until she disappeared and suddenly wasn't any longer. Pilar had replaced her. There was no way in hell I was going to jeopardize that. I knew when I was well off.

She began untying the lines to shove off.

—Why did you tell me that you resigned? You didn't, did you?

—No. I couldn't. They wouldn't let me. In fact, they used you as a reason to get me to stay.

I couldn't figure that, but I didn't ask. Rather, I let it go, just like I had let everything else go about the two of us. I stood up and looked across to the marina. Pilar and Warren were still there. James too. They waved again.

—Let's take her out. A final sail for old time's sake.

—No, Kara. I'm not going with you. There are no old times. There are only new times. Better times.

—Then help me cast off. I want to take her out. It's a beautiful morning, just like it was off Ensenada that day.

Something wasn't right. I felt it. I sensed it in my gut. Then it came to me. Her eyes. It was all in her eyes. They were cold. Distant. Uninvolved, as though she had given up.

I reconsidered, but only for an instant. I'd seen those eyes before, usually after she had allowed her knife to do its work.

—I'll get James. He can help you cast off. You're taking him, right?

—No. He'll be okay. I won't be long. You can tell him I love him while he's waiting.

—I'm sure he knows that already. We'll see you when you get back.

Kara unfastened her top and threw it aside. I'd seen her do it dozens of times. She still looked pretty good. In fact, she looked damned good. I was left to wonder just how many times she'd done just that to get the men in her life to do her bidding.

—Are you sure?

She turned towards me and smiled. Weak as I was, I didn't answer. Were it not for Pilar, I just might have taken her up on the offer even now.

—You're still a beautiful woman. You should find someone to love and to share your life.

—I have. None matched you. None were capable.

I stepped onto the wharf as she fired up the engine. The sloop drifted off the dock.

—So long, Jim.

She steered the sloop west and then turned back to wave. I waved back. Suddenly, I realized. It was what she said.

—Kara.

I yelled.

—No. Don't. James—

She couldn't hear me. Or perhaps she chose not to. I joined Pilar and Warren and James under the umbrella.

—I'm buying breakfast. What would you like, James?

—Could I have waffles with bananas?

—Of course you can. It's waffles and bananas for everyone.

Kara continued heading out to sea, oblivious to all but her own demons. She looked back and waved only once.

I knew, because I kept watching.

James settled into the routine at the resort complex. He took to Pilar almost right away. She enrolled him in the small, on-site school for the children of employees where she helped out on a part-time basis. They walked to school every day, sometimes hand in hand.

He spoke Spanish, so the boy's acceptance was almost immediate. He got along well with the others in the small class. Perhaps he realized that his mother had gone on an extended assignment in some part of the world where he wouldn't be welcome or safe.

At least, that's what I told myself. I even believed it for a while.

We never saw Kara again. Never heard from her. Several months later a report of an explosion on board a yacht off the coast of Mexico north of Tampico aired on a news channel.

A single body was recovered. I checked with the Federales and then I flew out. I wanted to be sure for my own piece of mind and that of Pilar. And for Kara's son, James.

I met her step-father, briefly. I didn't spend any more time than I needed. I made sure of one thing, and that was to ensure her remains would be shipped to her sister, Erica.

I called Erica let her know that her nephew was safe with us at the resort compound. After I hung up, I called Allie. She agreed to take the DNA samples I sent and have them checked against Erica's.

In two weeks, I boarded the Caravan with James. We were on our way to meet with his aunt and to inter his mother's ashes. It turned out that James wasn't related to me. Other than that, I had no way of telling who his father might be.

Erica was almost forgiving.

As for me, I had a woman that I loved. I believed Pilar loved me, too.

I-or rather, we-had more than a quarter of a million dollars in a bank in Cabo. I had no idea what to do with it, but it was a nice cushion to have if one were ever needed.

Six months later, Pilar and I were married again. It was easy for us to head down to Cabo for the honeymoon. A quick trip to the bank and the safety deposit box and we had no problem getting some of the money to abuelita and her granddaughters, Pilar's sisters.

It would prove to be more difficult to get it north of the border, but it wasn't an insurmountable problem. It would just take a little time. And maybe a boat.

I had plenty of time.

I didn't have a boat.

Life at the resort complex returned to its more normal slow pace for me and for Pilar. I walked out the door every morning after hugging Pilar, content, smiling, and eager to return home at night.

I started getting a bit of a paunch, thanks to Pilar's cooking.

We talked of bringing the cash north, but we did nothing about it. We figured that there was no sense in tempting fate.

I dreamed of retiring to a beach in Mexico with my wife, until I realized that I was already living on a beach with my wife.

I might not be retired, but I was close to it. And that was all right by me. Still, even now, there were nagging thoughts running in and out of my head. I took it upon myself to invite Pilar for an unscheduled trip to Cabo.

In the city we stopped to allow her to pick out a new wardrobe of bathing suits and sun dresses. From there we headed south.

At Cabo I rented a car and took us north to Todos. I had a reservation for two at the fancy resort hotel I had first seen years ago.

And I had an itch that couldn't be scratched, and I'd had it for quite a while.

It was time to do some scratching.

In Todos we shared a lazy morning relaxing by the pool. I spent most of it with my eyes fastened on Pilar in her bathing suit. I teased her and she blushed and then she smiled and laughed and I was happy. She was, too.

—Let's get dressed and take the hotel van into town. We can walk around and see the sights and be tourists today.

It took us until late afternoon to make our way out of the room after fevered, sweaty lovemaking. A still-flushed Pilar and I made our way to the lobby. I stopped her in front of a mirror, and she blushed even brighter than she had by the pool.

—Look at the mess you have made of me. Shame on you.

I couldn't help grinning. Neither could she.

—Yes. You used to be such a good Catholic girl. Don't worry. You'll be able to confess it all later. Does that make you happy?

—Perhaps. As long as I don't have to lie. Confession is good for the soul.

Which, I thought, was perhaps why Kara had never confessed to me. She never had a soul.

—What's that you're carrying?

Pilar had finally noticed the package under my arm.

—Will you come with me to church?

—To church? Here? Of course. But—

—It's a beautiful old Spanish church. It's called Misión Santa Rosa de las Palmas.

—What's going on? Why are we really here? And what did you bring?

—I need closure, Pilar. So do you, whether you realize it or not. We're going to get that closure today if what I suspect is true.

—Well—

—Go on. Don't hold back.

Not that I knew she would. This woman I had married was anything but shy when it came to her marriage with me.

—I have been worried about you since, since—

—I know. That's why we're here. Something has been eating at me. Today, we're both going to find out the truth. I promise.

She covered her head with a scarf, took my arm, and we walked into the misión together. I waited as Pilar kneeled and went through the motions. She finished, and we headed arm in arm to the back of the church in search of the padre.

—This is where you were married.

—This is where I was led to believe I was married. I don't really think I was ever married. It was all a fraud to keep me doing jobs for those people.

—So you think she lied to you about this also.

—Yes. I believe so. That's why I brought you here. I want to show you how devious that woman could be.

—What if you learn that it's true, that you were married?

I considered for only a moment.

—I don't think there's any chance in hell that it's possible.

—Jeem. Shame on you. You can't talk like that in church. I won't let you.

She pinched my arm.

—Ouch.

I rubbed at it for longer than necessary. All of the dreams of my past were now gone and about to be forgotten.

—Come on, sweetheart. Let's go find the padre before I'm black and blue.

—Yes. I have decided that I have a confession to make, too.

I knew better than to ask, but I couldn't let it go completely.

—A confession? What do you think your penance will be?

—We will see.

The padre was unfamiliar. A complete stranger. It could have been the intervening years. We hadn't spent a lot of time under the church's roof during the ten-minute wedding in my past. So, after introducing Pilar, I sat across from him and handed him the documents.

He took his time studying them.

—No, señor. There has never been a priest here by that name. I am the only one for more than ten years. It is impossible.

I looked at Pilar as she translated.

—Is it possible you could have been ill, and someone might have filled in for you?

Pilar repeated my words in Spanish.

—Our parish is very small. It is doubtful, but certainly possible. But I do not think so. I do not recognize the signature. I would say that there is no priest by that name anywhere near here, especially in the past six or seven years at least. I am sorry, señor.

I stood up, across the desk, and stuck out my hand. He shook it.

—Pilar, could you excuse us for a minute? I have something personal I want to ask the priest.

I followed the man of God into the vestibule. Pilar waited patiently for me in the front row. She looked so pretty in her dress and the kerchief covering her head. In broken Spanish I made my request and returned with the priest.

—Pilar. Come stand with me.

—Si. What is it?

—There's something we need to do.

When the ceremony concluded and we had reaffirmed our vows, Pilar began hugging the priest. She didn't forget about me. I eased her in the direction of the office where the priest filled out the paperwork.

—Padre, I think there's something my wife wants to see you about. I'll wait for her.

—Yes, my child?

—It is nothing, Father. I am fine.

—Very well, señora.

Outside the misión, as we walked down the steps, I reached across and squeezed Pillar's rear. She smiled up at me. Her eyes sparkled.

—What? No pinch for a sinner such as myself?

—If we walk back to our room, you can squeeze me all you want until we get there.

—And after?

—And after, you'll be too busy to squeeze anything.

—We'll just have to wait and see about that.

###

Dog Days

Jim Nash Adventure #13

_Jim Nash is as content as he's ever been—that is, until he manages to get himself arrested thanks to the new girl that has come into his life. While being held on trumped-up charges of murder, all the women in his life come together to post bond. With the local PD's enthusiasm to pin the crime on him, he is forced into honoring payback in a form he will find very familiar._

**I BUILT AN** entirely new life for myself, and I was happy to share it and live it with Pilar, my wife and the love of my life. She took a part-time job with the resort hotel's small school for the children of its employees. She thoroughly enjoyed her duties in the classroom assisting the teacher.

We even talked about starting our own family, but agreed to give our marriage a little more time for both of us to settle in for the long haul. Another year, or perhaps a bit less, and we'd be ready for the dramatic change to our lifestyle. Although, we'd dispensed with birth control, so perhaps it would be sooner than that.

Every three months, Pilar would jump on the Caravan or take a boat to the mainland and fly out to San Diego. She'd hop a cross-border bus to Tijuana and spend time at her family's small house with her abuelita and her sisters. She would return content and happy to be home once again in our bungalow near the beach.

I was always very happy when she returned. She'd text just before getting on the Caravan to let me know to meet her on the resort's dock. Each time, it was as though she had landed for the first time, giddy, happy, eager to walk with me to our home. Each time was as though we were starting all over again.

Which was why I was waiting with Warren, sitting in the marina office, when her text came through announcing her arrival at the waterfront air taxi service that would bring her back to me. I responded with the usual silly string of emoticons. I could see her smiling, eager to get home, anxious to be back where she belonged.

—You two are still on your honeymoon? Hasn't that been going on long enough yet? When are you going to settle into married life and get grumpy and bitchy with each other like normal people?

I grinned and grinned and Warren grinned back and we pretty much agreed that he was sadly mistaken and I would never be normal again.

And I wasn't, until the Caravan didn't land at its appointed time. According to Pilar's text, she should have arrived by now. The sky was clear. There was little chop in the bay. The amphib would have an easy landing.

An hour went by with no response to my texts. I called Pilar. It went straight to voicemail. Then another hour and my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number. The name attached to it was the name of the Caravan's air charter company.

—Mr. Nash?

My heart went to my throat.

—Mr. Nash, we've lost contact with the aircraft bound for your resort. Harbor—

—Was my wife on the passenger list?

I already knew the answer. Pilar's text was fresh in my mind.

—The harbor patrol is searching the area now. We'd like you to come to our hangar for a briefing as soon as is possible.

Warren knew by the look on my face. He headed for the dock to prep one of the resort's speedboats. Still in shock, I ran down to the wharf, cast off the lines, and jumped aboard.

—The plane?

I nodded. He firewalled the twin throttles and forty minutes later we docked at the airline's amphibian base of operations. On the way we passed harbor patrol boats circling on the water. I watched, grim faced, as bits and pieces of wreckage were pulled from the water.

The FAA had already arrived. Their aircraft sat parked beside the hangar.

I didn't want to go in. If Warren hadn't been there with me, I wouldn't have. I already knew what I was going to hear. I wasn't sure I could stomach it. I went anyway, already prepared for the worst.

Air traffic control lost contact ten minutes after liftoff. Witnesses saw the plane tumbling into the water. The investigation hasn't yet begun, but a video showed a wing separating in flight. They wouldn't allow any of us to view it.

The FAA specialist remarked that it could take up to six months for the investigation to discover a cause. When the passengers had been recovered, we'd all have to return to do an identification.

So it was a recovery, not a rescue. Why wasn't I surprised?

I avoided Warren's eyes. I looked everywhere else in the effort. He didn't push it, and I was grateful.

—Let's go back. I need to be at home. We can't do anything here, anyway.

I cursed most of the way. Just before Warren throttled back to coast to the dock, I screamed. I wasn't looking forward to calling Pilar's grandmother and her sisters—as if that would be the least of it. Somehow, I managed.

Somehow, I managed to survive all the pain and my own suffering without turning into a drunk yet again. I put in my time at the resort. For much of it I resembled a zombie more than an actual man.

Almost six months to the day, the cause of the accident was revealed to be saltwater corrosion and faulty maintenance on a wing strut. All of my questions about Pilar's luggage not being returned were never answered.

Also not answered were the reasons why, during the course of the investigation into the crash, the FBI and DHS showed up on my door with a search warrant. All of Pilar's possessions were seized. I never got them back.

A month to the day, I packed my bag, said my goodbyes, and departed the resort.

I never returned.

I clambered out of bed to the sound of loud barking. I opened the door and there was Zelda, making all the racket. It about sounded like there would be no tomorrow if she didn't get my immediate attention.

—What's the matter, girl? The sun is barely up and you're raring to go.

Zelda barked once more, happy that she had early-morning company paying attention to her. With tail wagging non-stop, she turned and bounded down the steps. She halted at the bottom and picked up something that blended in with her dark fur.

She strutted past me into the living room, still with tail wagging a mile a minute. She deposited what she had in he mouth by the scruff of the neck onto the floor. She plopped down beside what I could finally see was a tiny puppy.

The dog woofed, again, just to be certain I was paying attention.

—I heard you had a new litter. Is this the runt Lily's been telling me about?

The pup's eyes weren't yet open. I bent to pick her up. Zelda's tail thumped the floor. I thought she might break it off in her enthusiasm.

—Zelda, you brought me one of your litter with her eyes still shut. What am I supposed to do with her?

I went to the fridge for a carton of cream. I opened it, dipped a finger in, and placed it near the runt's mouth. Zelda wagged her tail and woofed like all nervous doggie mothers everywhere.

—All right. I'll help you feed her. I already know she can't eat with all of her brothers in the way. You'll have to help me out.

I set down the runt of the litter and went in search of some blankets. I pulled out the sofa to make room. When I finished, Zelda had a go at rearranging her nest in an out-of-the-way spot behind the sofa in my cramped living quarters.

She snuffled and pawed and re-arranged things to meet her expectations. Finally, after a couple of minutes, she settled in with a satisfied sigh. I placed the pup between her feet and she allowed the runt of her litter to suckle.

—Are you happy now? You can come and check on her whenever you want.

I grinned and scratched the black Lab's snout. I think she was almost smiling.

—I suppose you already checked with Lily first to let her know that I'll be taking over babysitting duties?

The screen door slammed shut. I should have known. A breathless Lily ran into the room.

—Uncle Jim. Zelda's runt— oh, you have her.

Her look of worry disappeared.

—Calm down. Zelda brought her over.

—That's good, because I'm going back to school.

The worried look returned to the young girl's face.

—I can't look after her all day any more.

—No need. I can do that for you and Zelda both. You'll have to bring over what you've been feeding her if that's all right.

—I'll go get it right now.

Zelda bounded after Lily and out the door. She just about tripped over the girl's feet in her enthusiasm to match Lily's rushed pace. The two of them came tumbling back and almost ripped the door off of its hinges in their haste to get inside.

—You can't feed her cow's milk. It will make her sick. I got her some special formula from the vet.

I knew right away I'd have to do some research. I wasn't used to looking after runt puppies. Hell, it seemed that I could barely manage to take care of myself. I looked down at Zelda with a stern expression.

—You're going to have to do double duty, girl. You need to come here to feed her by herself. She needs your mother's milk, too. The runt can't compete with the crowd of all the other little ones you're nursing.

It almost looked as though she understood.

—Lily, have you named her yet?

She shook her head.

—I've been too busy trying to make sure she's taken care of. I haven't even thought up a name.

—Would it be all right with you if I named her?

The girl looked disappointed for a moment before breaking into a huge grin.

—I think that would be okay. I've been having trouble coming up with a name anyway.

—First things first. It's time for Zelda to go back to nursing her right now.

I didn't need to remind anyone. When I checked, Zelda was already settled in behind the sofa. Her tail flapped. She was happily curled up with the runt of her litter. Both appeared content.

I was too. At least, that's what I told myself.

Zoe grew like a weed. In six months she weighed forty-five pounds and stood sixteen inches tall. Huge paws and long, gangly legs made sure she had an uncoordinated gait when she tried to run to keep up with Lily and the still-fat Zelda.

I did what I thought were all the right things. I took the pup for regular vet checkups. I leash-trained her. I made sure she could understand my commands and hand signals. I rewarded her with treats when she behaved. I admonished her verbally when she didn't.

Still and all, Zoe was a puppy. I let her wander off to sniff the roses—or more likely, the territorial marks left by other dogs. When I called, she came, and that was all that mattered. The treat she snuffled up from my hand didn't hurt, either, other than for her to learn to come promptly.

I began taking her to watch Lily and her schoolmates during her weekend games. Soccer and baseball were a hit with Zoe. At one point she managed to get away and chase down an errant softball. She returned it to the pitcher, sat down, and waited for her treat. She licked at the pitcher's hand, seemingly shocked when nothing was forthcoming.

When she didn't get what she expected, she trotted off the field to the bemused applause of the fans on the sidelines where I waited patiently. She took the treat I offered. From then on, she knew I was the only one with the goodies.

The game ended, and Lily brought the pitcher over. She wanted to know if she could keep some treats to hand out if Zoe managed to catch another ball. I explained how it probably wasn't a good idea, especially if the team wanted to play nine innings. Zoe might end up retrieving all the fielders.

I was settling in nicely, too. I had my own shack on an empty part of the property Allie and her brother, Hank, owned. It wasn't really a shack. It was a small trailer with all the conveniences. A couple of slide-outs, running water, heat and cold, and a sewer hookup. It was everything I needed.

I liked to think that I could hook up, move along, and settle down anywhere I wanted if things got too complicated or if I needed a break. I never once thought about doing it. I settled in and hunkered down and tried one more time to fit into the business I knew nothing about.

I kept it simple, by mutual agreement. That, and I didn't think I could handle anything more for the time being.

To add a semblance of normality to my otherwise crazy life, Warren showed up one day. Allie hired him away from the resort hotel to run the outfit's all-new dockside gift and scuba shop. Warren promptly got tangled up with a waitress from the diner down the street and he was in his element and happy to be here.

Now I needed my own element. I didn't think I'd ever find it, but Warren helped seal the deal and I was happy once again to be where I was.

I settled in to the duties of the wharf rat, responsible for answering the buzzers and doing the electrical and water hookups for the boats that tied off. I fueled, and oiled, and did what was asked of me. I even handled the after-hours callouts.

It was a good setup, simple and uncomplicated. It kept me busy and out of trouble and in the good books of Allie and Hank and Erica. I still wasn't sure about Erica. I knew she blamed me for a lot of what happened with Kara, her sister. I didn't try denying anything. Instead, I went with it and accepted what I figured was my part of the deal as much as I could.

I halted the part-time drinking I took up. In any event, it was only temporary. The hangovers got to be no fun at this stage of my life anyway.

Slowly I began to recognize that it was time to once again let it all go and move on.

Lily's softball game wasn't going well for either side. It was hot and humid and getting on towards dark. The field lights had been turned on. Both teams were making plenty of errors—which was all right, considering it was a game with twelve-year-old girls and boys playing on mixed teams.

I decided to let Zoe run free. I kept an eye on her as she wandered around making new friends with some of the little kids and their families. Usually she never went too far afield.

When she didn't come back for her treat, I became concerned. She'd never done that before. She'd circle around in her puppy dog gait, leap and snap at a butterfly or two, and hurry back for the waiting treat.

It was while I was on the lookout for a straying Zoe that I noticed the girl hesitating by the door to the back side of the bleachers. It had a hasp lock. She appeared to fish in a pocket. She must have pulled a key out, because the door opened.

Zoe appeared and the girl bent to pet her. No treat was forthcoming. The dog bounded off to more interesting things. The girl closed the door behind her and disappeared beneath the bleachers.

I didn't think anything of it. I concluded that like many before her, she had gone behind the bleachers to make out with a boyfriend. I forgot about the girl and continued watching Lily's ball game.

Zoe still hadn't reappeared for the longest time. Obviously she was in no hurry for her treat. I walked the grounds, searching. I ended up at the entrance beneath the enclosed bleachers. The door was still unlocked. Zoe stuck her head around the bleachers.

She saw me and began pacing back and forth, warring the ground beneath her feet. I pushed the door wide, slowly. I didn't know if I'd catch a kissing couple or a pair in a clinch of some kind.

Zoe stopped, sat down, and waited. Behind her, a body lay on the ground.

—You should have come to get me, girl. We need to call the police.

It was the same girl I had seen unlocking the door. I checked for a pulse and then stepped back and away from the scene. I called for an ambulance and the police. I stayed outside of the bleachers. While I waited, I attempted to give the woman the once-over, trying not to disturb anything.

She was in her late teens at the very most. Dark hair. Brown eyes. She lay on her back. Her summer dress was pulled down and looked undisturbed. If I was still a cop I'd have lifted it to see if she had her panties on. No way would I consider doing that now. Her dress covered everything that needed to be covered. She had both sandals on her feet.

Normal. She looked completely normal, but for the fact she was dead.

There were no obvious signs of trauma. No bruising. No cuts or scrapes or scratches on any part of her that I could see.

Her right hand was clenched in a fist, as though gripping something. I made no effort to pry open the locked fingers. It wasn't my job any more. It hadn't been since I resigned as a detective on the murder squad and left the big-city police department behind a long time ago.

I put Zoe on her leash and we waited patiently by the unlocked door in case any lookie-loos came by. I didn't want anyone disturbing anything before the professionals showed up to take over.

When the police finally arrived, I faced a barrage of questions that never ended. Rather than take a look at the body and how it might have gotten behind the locked bleacher enclosure, they chose to spend their time interrogating me.

Aren't you that beach bum that moved onto the Sands property on the coast? How long have you been there? Why did you move there? What are you doing at the field? When did you arrive? How long have you been here? You're not going to be leaving now. Not for the foreseeable future by the look of it.

I shut my mouth for just about all of their questions. I knew better. Besides, I'd once been in a similar situation back in the city. If they were thinking of charging me with a murder they hadn't yet begun to investigate, I'd need to keep my cards close to my chest.

Finally, I had enough. Zoe was becoming just as impatient.

—Shouldn't you take a look at the victim? You know, like you might want to rope off the bleachers and keep the fans of the game away from the area. And then you might want to keep everyone from leaving until they can be interviewed.

I called Zoe to heel and we began taking our first steps towards the parking lot.

* * *

**THE CUFFS SNAPPED** shut. The investigation ended. Attempts to solve the crime were set aside. That telling action told me pretty much everything I needed to know about the ineffective, clown-car local PD.

Even Zoe couldn't believe it when she witnessed me being led away. She couldn't believe it, that is, until one of the cops attempted to put the boots to her. She dodged the kick, growled, and scampered off toward the waterfront. Smart dog.

I wasn't so fortunate as to be able to hustle off in the direction of the waterfront. I wouldn't be scampering anywhere for the foreseeable future.

Someone administered a patdown. I ended up in the back seat of a cruiser, driven to the station, and booked. I ended up tossed into a jail cell with much fanfare and hand clapping. Next I knew, the local rag would announce that the crime had been solved and the perpetrator was twiddling his thumbs in a holding cell, courtesy of the Chief and his minions.

There were more than a few problems with that cut and dried solution. The primary one was that there had been no investigation. Even someone with half a brain who watched crime-time television knew better than that.

Eventually, I got to make my phone call. I was left wondering if Erica would even bother to let Allie know where I was being held. When the two of them showed up in tandem, all was good with the world. Whether all Erica wanted was to see me safely ensconced behind bars didn't even enter into the equation.

—Zoe misses you.

The women grinned.

—I'm glad someone does. I was starting to think—

—Don't think. We got your innocent ass out, didn't we? Get in the car. I had to sign away the business. You'll cost me a fortune in bail money if you skip.

—How much?

—Don't ask. Not to change the subject, but they're searching the trailer as we speak. Are they likely to find anything?

—That was quick. Of course not. All of my hardware is stored where no one needs to know. I assume that's what you're asking about, and not about the reason for the dead body I happened to trip over.

—We'll be reading about it in tomorrow's paper. You're going to need someplace to stay in the meantime. You won't be able to get into the trailer.

A cot in the back of the warehouse started to look pretty good.

—They must want to wrap this up as quick as they can for some reason. They put the bracelets on me so fast I thought they were joking. As for the bail hearing, someone must have had the judge waiting in chambers.

—You do realize that there's a local election coming up, right?

I looked at her, confused.

—An election? No. I no longer watch the news. I don't have cable.

Looking incredulous, Erica shook her head. In fact, Allie did the same.

—If the haste with which this investigation is about to be completed is any indication, I'd say we'll get to hear about your guilty plea and a date for the hanging party. Notice of the when and where for the street festival should be on tonight's news.

Allie and Erica were right. I was all over the evening news, and I was forced to watch it. All things considered, I thought I looked pretty dapper in my mug shot—unlike so many others I'd been responsible for over the years. Fortunately I made the effort to shave and put on a decent shirt before showing up for Lily's game.

The joke about using the shot on a dating app when my ordeal was over went over like a lead balloon.

In all seriousness, I wasn't so happy with the report portraying me as a traveling rapist and killer. The local news made it sound as though I fell off the railcar as it passed through town.

Which lead me to wonder if the autopsy had even been completed.

Allie kindly let me move into the back of the warehouse. Zoe wasn't happy. She lost access to her favorite air-conditioned trailer. She put up with me, but I could tell she was beginning to wonder if we'd ever get our comfortable house on wheels back.

I knew the peace wouldn't last, and I was right. The press set up shop across the alley behind the business. It definitely wasn't good for business. I decided to move out.

Eventually I located a place in a walk-up a short stroll from downtown. It came furnished and allowed pets. Zoe wasn't happy until she heard the buzz of the window-shaker firing up to cool her new residence down. She happily settled in beneath it.

I began walking the streets several times a day with Zoe in tow. It didn't take long for her to draw a crowd of dog-friendly teenagers. Many recognized her from her antics at the ball park. Zoe pranced and sat and sat up and did what she did best—she performed for anyone who paid her any measure of attention.

It wasn't long before I became known as the railroad guy—as in, I was being railroaded. Everyone appeared to know it but the local police, that is.

The word was that the dead girl Zoe had helped me discover beneath the bleachers was the girlfriend of a local bigwig's son. He had married the wrong girl a couple of years previous. Apparently, the right girl was too young at the time.

A lot of people had become convinced that the right one ended up dead. Whether she was murdered, or died of natural causes, no one professed to know.

The police didn't appear interested in doing due diligence. In fact, they were completely unconcerned. Whether they had an actual murderer still loose in the community wasn't a matter for consideration.

They didn't seem too interested in wanting to learn what had happened to the girl.

For my troubles, during one of my walks with Zoe, I ended up in the back of a squad car. When the car slowed to pull over, we were ten miles out of town and I already knew what was coming.

I took the beating like a man until I was knocked almost unconscious and fell to the ground. The boots finished the job. I teetered home on the brink of consciousness and collapsed in bed.

Even Zoe knew enough not to disturb me.

In the morning, I showered, shaved, and shampooed. Looking fit as a fiddle if I kept my shirt on, I walked out into the street and downtown in search of someone who knew the dead girl's family.

It only took me a few minutes. I wondered why the police had never bothered.

I walked with Zoe to the paint-faded house surrounded by a dilapidated and overgrown yard filled with rusted lawn furniture and children's toys from another generation. I knocked on the door. Zoe sat down, kept her eye on the closed door, and waited expectantly. When no one answered, she cast a wondering glance up at me. I scratched her behind the ears.

—I know girl, but investigating sometimes takes longer than we want it to.

The door opened as I was about to turn and leave. A tired-looking older woman strongly resembling the girl behind the bleachers wanted to know why I was on her doorstep. Obviously she hadn't watched the news. A kindred spirit when it came to television, or no doubt the door would have slammed in my face.

—It's about your daughter.

I figured I'd go for it before the woman had a chance to figure out who I was and slam the door.

—The police have already been here.

—I'm not a cop. I'm a private investigator. I'm sorry for the loss of your daughter.

—Thank you. Darlene was a good girl. That boy led her astray. It's not that she didn't know better. She just didn't believe he was such a loser.

—What can you tell me about the boy?

—I can tell you he fed her a line of BS the entire time he was seeing her. She believed him, too. She'd come home all starry-eyed and thinking he'd be doing the right thing—whatever the right thing was for her. I had no idea.

—Was she pregnant?

—I don't think so. I never found any pee-sticks in the trash if that's what you're asking.

There went that theory all to hell.

—Did she have any medical problems?

—Well—

I waited.

—She was tired a lot. And she stopped her running. I don't know why, really. She's too young for heart problems.

The woman hesitated and then corrected herself.

—She was too young for that—

—You're probably right.

—I'm so sorry for your loss. I won't bother you again. Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions.

The only problem was, I was no farther ahead than when I knocked on the door. Except—

Except there were no bruises on the body that I had seen. No blood. Her clothing hadn't been torn or otherwise disturbed. She still had shoes on both feet. It sure didn't look as though she'd been attacked.

She was on her back, though, and there could have been plenty going on. If I could get back to the scene, I'd take another look around.

—Come on, Zoe. We have someplace we need to be.

An unleashed Zoe beat me to the ball field and the bleachers. She halted at the unsecured entrance and ran back and forth until I got close. She sat down inside.

—What is it, girl? Did you find something?

She barked and dug at the ground. A single key gleamed in the bright sunlight.

—Good girl.

She snuffled at my hand. I reached for a treat and Zoe wandered off, happy and content to have unknowingly been helpful. I tried the key in the hasp of the lock. It fit. I twisted and the lock opened. I almost jumped for joy. That must have been what the girl had wrapped her fingers around in the closed hand.

Now I found myself with a real dilemma. The clown-car cops had obviously missed the clue. Or they found it and tossed it, knowing that it wouldn't help their case against me. I closed the access door and locked it shut.

The shock took me to the ground. I urinated in my pants. I knew enough not to struggle. I stayed down. It didn't do any good. I took about half a dozen shots of electricity before I stopped jerking.

Two of the finest cuffed me and piled me into the back of the cruiser. In no time I was stripped of my clothes. I made a grab for the pair of orange coveralls someone threw at me. I ended up helped into a cell.

—You're forgetting the phone call I need to make, boys. Come on now. Make it right or it won't go good during the hearing.

Laughter greeted me this time, too. I ended up herded before the same judge. This time, it was for violating bail requirements. The only problem with that was, no one had bothered to inform me during my first bail hearing—not even the judge. This was turning out to be too good to be true.

Before the judge could grab his gavel and bang me into submission, I managed to get out a single question.

—Your honor, do you happen to have the conditions of my bail release in front of you?

I didn't give him an opportunity to let him answer.

—If you'll recall, you made no mention of any conditions such as why I've been rearrested. In fact, the conditions of my previous release weren't even read to me. I'm sure a reading of the court's proceedings will prove that.

—Bail denied.

The gavel fell and I ended up carted off to jail. I wondered how long it would be before they attempted to sweat me for information. The trouble with that was, I didn't know anything more but what I'd seen at the initial discovery of the girl's body.

And now the bail money put up by Allie would be in jeopardy.

* * *

**THREE OFFICERS HERDED** me out of my cell and down the hall to a now-familiar interview room. The same incompetents as worked their magic the first time were startled by my warm greeting.

—You're related to the chief, aren't you? Isn't there an election coming up in the fall? The chief must need to close this case and hang someone for it. Is he selling tickets to the street party, too?

It wasn't going to be me that would be hung if I had anything to do with it. I settled back in the chair and shut up. I was in it for the long haul now.

It took two days before anyone decided I was missing. By then, Zoe and Zelda had taken to wandering around the marina looking for treats with hangdog expressions on their furry faces. Agitated that they couldn't find any, they started making a fuss. Lily was the first to realize I was no longer around.

This time, all three women showed up. There were no grins. I figured they must be giving Lily a quick course in obeying the law to ensure she didn't end up anything like Uncle Jim.

The lawyer accompanying them showed up with a writ and I was home free. I wondered how much crap I'd be taking from the three of them on the drive home.

—We know something smells, Jim. Any idea what's going on?

I was pleasantly surprised, given Allie's past association with me.

—The fall election? What's this chief been doing besides hiring his relatives and sucking the city dry in wages paid to incompetent, untrained employees?

—Here we go, girls. Jim is about to make a run for chief of police.

I looked at Erica like she needed her head examined. Then I thought about it for a bit. Before we arrived home, I'd made my decision.

—If you know me—and no smartass comments from any of you—then you already know I'm not guilty of whatever silliness the local PD is pulling. But I'm not so stupid as to pile on running for election in the fall. I'm not looking for more punishment.

—I could help you campaign after homework and on weekends, Uncle Jim. Zelda could campaign with me, too.

I nudged Erica, expecting her to help her daughter decide that it would be impossible. My jaw dropped when she didn't.

—It would be a good lesson in civics, Lily. You could write about it and submit if for a class assignment. What do you think, Allie?

I gave her no chance to answer.

—Yeah, and when the door slams on me in the state prison, you can come interview me for a story on how I narrowly avoided the death penalty.

The car halted in front of my trailer. I got out and held up my hands in mock surrender, hoping it would give me an opportunity to escape the badgering. I fast-tracked it to the end of the wharf. If I was going to go any farther, I'd have to swim. They all knew how that would go.

The badgering went on. I knew the only way out was to feign surrender.

—All right. All right. I'll think about it. No promises. But first I have to get out from under the fools and incompetents trying to pin a murder on me that looks to be death by natural causes.

Finally, they scattered like the wind. If only I'd known that was all it would take. It forced me to yell after them.

—Thanks for getting this hard-core murdering felon out of jail. Again.

I shook my head and wondered what I'd be letting myself in for. Dirty tricks, no doubt. Probably even dirtier than what I'd just been put through—and I wasn't talking about the local PD and its incompetents. It was about what those three women convinced me to attempt.

I knew I'd be letting myself in for a hard time trying to convince them I didn't want to do it. Hell, truth be known, I'd have a hard time convincing myself.

I just didn't want them to find out.

I took a quick trip into the city and headed for the high-profile lawyer I knew I'd need to dig me out from beneath the pile of manure the local PD was dumping on me. He turned me on to a local attorney and suggested I use her. I'd never heard of her, but since I knew this guy from my days at a big-city PD myself, I trusted him.

—I'll call Kasidi and give her a heads up. I wouldn't be surprised if she already knows what's going on. She's a real tiger in a courtroom and never misses an opportunity to rub people's noses in their own backsides whether their necks are long enough or not.

We commiserated a bit before I left. He wished me good luck, and I headed home. I made the long drive no longer certain what I was doing. I hit rock bottom with my thoughts. That was when I pulled over and dialed Kasidi's number. If nothing else, I'd get a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

My new lawyer took my call on the second ring—or her secretary did, I guess. I didn't even get put on hold.

—Jim Nash. I've been watching the antics on the local public-access television station.

—I didn't realize I was such a celebrity. I don't watch television.

—Perhaps you should start.

—I'll reserve judgment on that.

She sounded annoyed all of a sudden.

—I don't know how to tell you this on the phone, but you need me more than I need you. On the other hand, considering the incompetent way the local PD has been railroading you, I think we'll end up needing each other.

—It's that bad, is it?

—I wouldn't put it that way. More of a local train wreck, I'd say—both yours, and the local PD's, to be exact.

I couldn't disagree.

—I'm thinking that the local PD has more problems going on than I do.

—I'm thinking you might be right. By the way, are you calling from a burn phone? There's something funny about what's showing up on my call display.

—Yes. I am. I—

—Get a real phone. A burn phone looks suspicious. You're not suspicious, are you? Is there anything I need to know about before I accept you as a client?

—I'll fill you in when I get there in another hour.

—I'll keep a light burning in the window.

Kasidi Beale kept a light on for a long time. It was an hour past dark when I parked in front of her office. I entered her office and she walked past me to lock the entrance door.

She must have had some good clients at one time. The furnishings looked expensive, but not too blatantly so. Reserved, if that's a word for furnishings. It was nicely laid out, too. A few oil paintings on the wall. I looked for names, but I didn't recognize any of them.

She caught me out when she returned.

—Nobody anyone knows. Maybe in a few decades. I took them as payment on a couple of cases.

So she did pro bono work too. Good to know.

Kasidi was an attractive older woman, tall, long-legged and I hadn't even seen her legs yet. She filled out her blouse and jacket nicely—but not as nice as Allie still did.

She caught me looking. She removed her jacket, placed it on the back of her chair, and sat down. She straightened in the seat and arched what was attached to her back in my direction. And yeah, she had the whole package going on.

—Fill me in, Jim Nash.

She didn't give the clock on the wall so much as a glance until well after I finished. Maybe it was because of the loud explosion too close for comfort.

We crawled out from behind Kasidi's desk and went to investigate. The explosion took out the front windows of the small-town strip-mall law office. Through the smoke I could see the remains of my car. Fire department sirens approached. After appraising the damage, we returned to her office.

—Are you sure you didn't leave anything out? I'm getting the feeling that you've pissed someone off in a big way.

—No. I told you everything. Well, almost.

—Spill, sailor. I need to know it all.

I looked at her. I hadn't heard that expression for a while. It took me by surprise.

—Something I said?

She came around the edge of her desk and leaned back against it. We were a foot apart. My personal space didn't mind being invaded by this one.

—I'm seeing someone.

—So am I. I guess now that that's been settled, we can move forward. I'll take your case. First thing tomorrow, you need to call this number.

She scribbled on a piece of paper and held it out.

—It's the local cable TV station. You know, the homespun news and high school football channel. I'll call ahead. They'll want to come out and interview you. When you know when, let me know, and I'll stand beside you. We need to get out in front of this, whatever this is. Are you good?

I swallowed hard and nodded assent.

—Now come on. I'll drive you home. From my experience, the police will take their time getting here. When they find out for sure it's your car, they might even put you in jail again just for spite.

I grinned at her.

—Jesus, woman—

—They're not too swift, in case you haven't noticed. They know just enough to be willfully ignorant, too.

Kasidi drove me home. Before I got out I convinced her to come with me to Allie's office. I felt the need to introduce them. I felt the need to let Allie know that my new lawyer was a good-looking, long-legged older woman. I needn't have worried.

The minute they recognized each other, the laughter began. I thanked the gods and walked back to my trailer. In half an hour, I had both of them on my doorstep, along with Erica, Lily, Hank, Zelda and Zoe. I invited them in and they filled the tiny trailer.

—You guys are killing me. You know that, right? What's going on?

I looked from Kasidi to Allie and back.

—You didn't tell me—

She didn't give me time to finish.

—That's because I didn't know where I'd be dropping you off. I've known Allie and the business for ages. I helped them to set it up properly when she first arrived. Which reminds me, you three. It's time we did a review. It's been quite a while, and I'm sure things have changed.

She looked from Allie to me and back again. I knew right away I wasn't included in the three.

—What happened to your car, Jim? Did it break down?

—Kind of. It blew up and took Kasidi's front office with it.

—We're not going to get any help here, Jim. We need to involve the FBI now. The sooner the better. First thing in the morning I'll check with the ME to determine the girl's cause of death. Once I have that, the rest will be straightforward.

—The ME won't be any help. I already know that.

Kasidi looked at the three of them. She continued ignoring me.

—Jim's explanation of what he saw when he came across the body makes it sound like the cause of death might just be natural.

—I've thought about it, and there's nothing I saw that would make me think otherwise. Of course, the coroner—

—He's one of the honest ones. He's my husband. He's been fed up with this small-town Keystone cop circus for just as long as I have.

She looked at all of us while I kicked dirt at the stupidity of calling out the ME.

—Don't worry. We'll find our way out and take Jim with us.

I thanked Kasidi for taking me on as a client. Secretly, I was relieved. She sounded like once she got her teeth into a case, she wouldn't let go until she was satisfied with the outcome. That she'd get the FBI involved was a bonus.

—All right, all of you. Out. I need to get some sleep before I go out and find a beater to drive. I suspect that my legal bill just might exceed my ability to pay, and I don't want to end up broke because of a new car.

I mumbled something about shyster lawyers, they all laughed, and I was left alone. The trailer had become even smaller than I imagined it could be.

The place was getting overrun with dogs. I opened the door and a whining Zoe scrambled out to be met by Zelda.

—Oh. Hello. I didn't realize you were here, too.

Allie held out a huge bag of Chinese and handed it over.

—We haven't spent much time together since you've been back. I thought it would be nice to say hello and bring a housewarming gift.

I waved her in. We'd been huge Chinese food fans over the years.

—I've missed this. We used to talk over our cases while we shared.

—Well, neither of us has any cases now, do we? I think it's been pre-ordained, somehow.

It was beginning to get dark. I went to flip on the lights.

—Leave them off.

Allie stripped off her shirt and wiggled out of her jeans. I watched intently as she struggled just a bit. I knew better than to say a word.

—Damn, I must have put on more weight than I thought.

I thought about ignoring what I'd just heard, and changed my mind.

—No you haven't. You're just right. And we're going to be eating cold food. There's no way I'm passing this up.

—It goes against my better judgment to sleep with trailer trash. You don't have Velveeta in your fridge, do you? That would be entirely too much to cope with.

—No, I don't.

—Well then, everything will be all right. Let's get busy.

She grinned. I grinned. We got busy.

I wasn't quite ready for the pillow talk I knew Allie wanted. In fact, I wasn't ready at all.

—You need something to do with your life, Jim. Being a wharf rat isn't productive. You've been treading water since you came back. I understand why. I'd be devastated, too. In fact, I'd probably be destroyed.

The woman was right on all counts.

—What do you have in mind?

—Let me finish. Your background is perfect for the job of chief of police. We both know you've got loads of experience. You've got a good, clean record, too, notwithstanding the silliness of the local PD trying to railroad you.

—Allie—

—I'm not done yet. Erica, Hank, Lily, we've already discussed it. We all agree. You need a challenge. We all think that running in the fall election would be the best thing that could happen to you.

So they had discussed it already without me. Allie knew me too well.

—And if I lose?

—I'm not getting in bed with a loser.

—Uuh, excuse me, miss, but you're already in bed with one.

—If I ever thought you were a loser, I wouldn't be here to begin with.

—But I screwed up big-time back in the city. Remember? You walked out—not that I blame you. You had every right.

—I made a mistake. I realize that now.

I silently added up all the times I'd screwed up with Allie. I almost didn't have enough fingers.

—And I've made a few too. I'm sorry.

Then it hit me.

—You're trying to seduce me! In fact, you just did. If I had known—

Zoe's barking interrupted me mid-sentence. I went to climb over Allie to let the dog out.

—Stay here. I'll let her out.

She slipped into one of my t-shirts. It barely covered her fine rear as she bent to look out the window.

—Shit. Take a look at this.

I scrambled out of bed.

—What's going on? Do I need a gun? Who— we'd better do something.

I pulled on my jeans and scrambled to find a shirt.

—You still look good in a t-shirt, girl.

I pulled her to me and ran my hands beneath it up her naked back.

—If you say so. And you'd better handle that crowd out there or we'll never have peace in this family.

I liked the sound of that.

* * *

**I PUSHED OPEN** the door, prepared for almost anything. Three lawn chairs and two dogs greeted me. They were just far enough away that they wouldn't have been subjected to the sounds of our lovemaking. Discrete, I guess you could call it.

Three pairs of hands applauding and two barking dogs made it impossible to be heard. I help up my hands in defeat while Allie huddled behind me. The tee barely covering what needed to be covered. I dragged her beside me. She struggled to hold down the front of the shirt. Every time she did, the back went back to daredevil territory, exposing her rear to the trailer.

—It's fine, Allie. You're covered.

I couldn't help the wide-mouthed grin knowing the reaction I'd get when I told her about the sullied trailer.

—Next time, boys and girls, send a warning text before putting us on stage.

My surprise was complete. They were all looking at me like they expected me to say something. It was too soon for a marriage proposal. Or an engagement announcement. I fumbled and stumbled and cleared my throat.

—I'd like to thank you all for coming.

Allie poked me in the ribs. I couldn't stop it. I wore a huge grin. It wouldn't stop. Erica cleared her throat and blushed. Hank applauded. Allie punched me in the shoulder. Zelda and Zoe barked in appreciation. Poor Lily didn't know what to think.

—I'd like you all to know that I'll be accepting a nomination to run for the chief of police. On one condition.

—Don't be shy now. Let it all hang out.

Erica would say that. It was my turn to blush when I looked at her.

—I have to get this sword hanging over me pointed in the right direction. Until then, I won't be committed to any such thing as an election campaign.

They gathered up their lawn chairs. Zoe bounded into the trailer.

—You did it, Allie. You convinced him.

It was Allie's turn to blush. I slapped her rear as she climbed the step into the trailer. It seemed to me that she spent far to long with her back to me, rubbing her rear hiding beneath the shirt.

—You're doing that on purpose.

She pulled the shirt over her head and turned to face me. A forearm and a hand covered the strategic bits of her body.

—I thought you'd never notice.

She grinned.

—Oh I noticed all right.

I picked her up and carried her back to bed. Zoe was already waiting.

—Zoe, it's time for you to go to your own bed.

The morning sun streamed through the window. We shared warmed-over Chinese for breakfast in bed. Allie sat up and the sheet slipped away. I wouldn't allow her to rearrange it. I couldn't force my eyes away from her if I tried. I didn't try.

—You're a beautiful woman, Allie.

—It's been a long time. Gravity does funny things to a woman's body. I haven't even had children yet.

—I'm thinking two.

—We're getting ahead of ourselves. The food is getting cold.

I eased the covers the rest of the way with no resistance.

—Let it.

Allie had barely beat a path out of my place and across the yard in the too-short t-shirt. I whistled my appreciation just as a strange car pulled up in front of the trailer. Allie increased her walk-of-shame pace across the lot and disappeared while I went out to see who the latest visitors were.

Kasidi hadn't wasted any time. After checking out a couple of FBI wallets, I went in to make coffee and haul out the lawn chairs. We drank bad coffee and I apologized.

—Don't worry. We've had worse at our office. Kas Beale talked to us last night. We received clearance from the state AG to look into what's been going on down here.

Judging by the thickness of their notebooks and the few pages remaining, I suspected that an investigation of some sort had been going on for some time.

—I'll tell you what I know. I'll leave it up to you to make up your own minds.

—We wouldn't have it any other way. And damn, that is bad coffee.

By the time I finished my tale of woe, it was getting on to late afternoon. I had an appointment for an after-lunch meeting with the local access channel. When I didn't show up, they took it upon themselves to appear out of the blue.

The FBI team gave me a dirty look, but by then it was too late. They were on video, and slated for the six p.m. access-TV news hour. They mumbled a couple of no comments and managed to slink out of the parking lot, subdued but not in the least upset by then.

I didn't have the nerve to let the girl and the cameraman know that I didn't even have a television set to watch the proceedings. I figured they'd be disappointed. Besides, I wanted them to come back the next time I called.

When the camera shut down, I asked if they'd chatted with the local ME as to the cause of death. Apparently, they'd been trying to get that out of the police chief's office with no results so far.

I passed on Kasidi's number and let them know that her husband was the ME in question. I admonished them to make sure they didn't paint him in a bad light. He was one of the honest ones, after all. They agreed to check it out before driving off.

It was Lily who came over to pound on my door and invite me to watch the flack with everyone as it was shot into the airwaves by the local news crew. With my trailer in the background, and the two FBI agents for color, the woman painted a pretty accurate picture of the corruption that had been going on in the parish.

—What did those two FBI agents say about how much longer they'd be around?

—I didn't go into details with the news crew. Apparently they've been looking into things for a while. They as much as said that it would be another month, maybe two, before charges were filed. The swore me to secrecy. All of you, too, now.

—Well then, we've got three months to build up some momentum for a new chief. When are we going to get started?

I started the next day. I made my way to prepare a couple of hundred flyers, then spent the afternoon handing them out as I walked block after block on both sides of the downtown streets.

The goon squad kept an eye on me, but there wasn't much they could do. Just for spite, I even managed to slip a couple of flyers past their open windows. In seconds, it was tossed back out. Litterbugs, all of them. Lawbreakers too, apparently.

I'd about worn out my shoes and my feet by supper time. I beat a hasty retreat to the photocopy shop, ran off another couple of hundred, and headed home. I collapsed in a sweaty pile of fatigue and dozed off.

The next day at lunch I showed up at Lily's school and convinced her that we should head to all of the parks. I just happened to have two dogs and their associated leashes in the back seat. The dogs had never had so many hands and faces to lick in their entire lives.

They happily sat back on their haunches and got hugged, squeezed and pulled at by dozens of preschoolers accompanied by their mothers. They all took a flyer. None ever tossed one into a trash bin from what I could see.

I thought we were doing pretty good until the local TV crew showed up. By the time they left, we were doing even better. Not only were we getting coverage, but having Lily and the dogs along made for good television.

By the time I packed Lily off to school and headed home to the trailer, I'd had enough excitement for one day. Zelda and Zoe jumped out of the car so fast I thought they'd gotten a bad scare. When next I saw them, they were fast asleep in their world of doggy dreams.

I knew it was too soon for my problems to be over. I also knew that there'd be an end in sight once the FBI finished its investigation and laid some charges. Waiting was the hard part. That, and keeping on believing that it was only a matter of time.

When fans of a new police chief approached me about helping out on the campaign, I made arrangements to rent space in a downtown strip mall with plenty of parking. I didn't want my supporters to end up with parking tickets courtesy of my esteemed opponent.

For the most part, things chugged along quite nicely. With the help of Allie and Erica and the free assist of the fine folks down at the local cable station, I had plenty to occupy my time.

I never once thought things were going too good. Given my bad luck record in my past, I knew better.

Someone must have fed my big city credentials to the local TV station. I wondered if it might have been my lawyer, since she was a friend of my girlfriend, and had overseen her business arrangements. The fact that I got along well with Kasidi, and that we had reached an understanding on our first meeting, must have gone a long way to cementing our legal relationship.

I asked her, but she denied it. The wink she gave me was adequate testament to her denial. From then on, I knew all of us would be friends.

Before long, the true story came out about the girl Zoe and I had discovered beneath the bleachers. She'd long had a heart problem, as testified to by her family. The autopsy finally released by the local PD confirmed it.

The press went after the police chief. During the confrontation about the autopsy results and the huge delay in releasing the document, he denied everything. He chose to put the blame squarely on the community for its attitude of holding back funding and other resources from his department. Training for his officers had been reduced as a result.

To me, it was more like training had been reduced in order that more of his family members could be hired on with the department.

The campaign didn't really get dirty. It veered slightly when the chief was confronted about attempting to hang a murder charge on an innocent man, but he just shrugged and again mumbled something about funding and training.

Although my supporters wanted me to keep at him, I refused. It took some convincing to assure them that in the long run, it didn't matter. People knew right from wrong, even if it took them a while to figure it out.

In any case, local access TV news kept things on the up and up. It got embarrassing after a while, but I shrugged and accepted that a viable alternative had presented itself and there was no way that the locals were going to accept anything short of a new chief of the department.

Zoe and Zelda continued to be favorites. They made for good local color. The fact that they turned out to be a couple of hams didn't hurt. Daphne, the local reporter, eventually started showing up with pockets full of treats for both of them. Now that was embarrassing for sure, but hey, what could I do?

All's fair in war and elections.

When it was said and done, and the campaigning was over, I had won by a narrow victory of a hundred votes. While that in itself was a minor miracle, I dutifully made the acceptance speech. Of course, I held off from rubbing anyone's noses in such a narrow win.

With the campaigning done with, by late night on election day I was declared winner by a narrow margin of a couple of hundred votes. While I considered that a minor miracle, I dutifully made my acceptance speech. With such a slim victory, I held off rubbing anyone's noses in it.

My honorable opponent refused to accept defeat. With all of his hand-picked officers behind him, he demanded a recount. The very next day, he filed papers for just such a thing to occur He more than likely wasn't aware that the ballots would be collected and sealed, only to be taken out in a closed and locked room while the recount was overseen.

A day later, the final, official count was revealed. My victory had expanded to just over fifteen hundred votes. Again, rather than crow about it, I compiled the paperwork to fire the entire police department's officers. I held off announcing it and instead made some phone calls.

By next day I confiscated the keys to every cruiser and locked them away. I sent out a notice assigning everyone to full uniform. The day after that, I headed up the morning briefing.

—Pick up your ticket books on your way out of the briefing room, gentlemen. You're to cover every street in the community on foot patrol.

By noon, I had three men walk off the job. At shift end, another two did the same. Not one showed up for the morning meeting the next day. En masse, they turned in their belongings and snarled their way out the door. By then, I had my hard-boiled eggs all in the same diner.

I was ready for the blow-back.

A quick call to the local television station had them out front of the building first thing in the morning. I showed up with my fellow officers in tow. Five were retired from my city-cop days. Another two had resigned, fed up with the big-city crap they'd been putting up with for entirely too long.

At the press conference to announce the proceedings, I was surrounded by a cadre of my former partners in crimes and misdemeanors. During questioning, most announced they were retired. Some took leaves of absences. I knew all would enjoy the paid holiday until full-time employees were hired.

I faced questions about the costs that would be incurred. I announced that many were volunteers until I had the opportunity to re-staff the department. I had a smile on my face when I suggested than any of the town's unemployed officers I had fired would be able to file an application.

When questioned about the wisdom of that decision, I explained that, unlike the previous chief, I would properly vet each and every applicant through the local HR department. I explained that I had no relatives that I wanted to hire, and that if anyone should turn up and announce that they were a relative, to please escort them to the town's boundary and call me.

That got a round of applause. My next official act as the new chief saw me pinning a badge on Zoe's neckerchief. The little ham showed me up by sitting back on her haunches and raising a paw while broadcast live on cable news. I didn't know it at the time, but that little stunt would go viral on some internet channel over the coming days and weeks.

When the press conference ended, I was smack dab in the middle of my first official controversy. Lily and Zelda had been witnesses from the back of the crowd to my appointing Zoe as a badge-carrying member of the police department.

—Uncle Jim. You made Zoe a policeman. What about Zelda?

The look on Lily's face told me right away that I was in big trouble. Zelda didn't help matters any. She snuffled around Zoe and looked up at me like I was a complete idiot for ignoring a little girl's dog.

I knew better than to go home empty-handed. I made excuses about having to stay late. With the help of a civic employee I hadn't fired, I rummaged through the evidence locker. Together, we managed to come up with an official vest for a police dog the department didn't know it had.

I didn't ask if the dog drew a salary. If he did, I would fix it later.

Later that night, at the barbecue on the wharf, I presented Zelda with her official vest. There was a moment of panic when the fat old dog had to suck in her tummy to get the Velcro fastened, but eventually I prevailed.

Zelda strutted around all night, sniffing and snuffling and occasionally barking once or twice. No one seemed to mind, least of all Lily, who happily chased after her.

My first official crisis as the new chief of police had narrowly been averted, in the nick of time.

###

Startup Blues

Jim Nash #14

_Being elected chief of police isn't everything it's cracked up to be when Jim has competent help to assist him. Bored with desk duty, Jim takes a short leave in order to use his P.I. license to aid two sisters. Persons unknown are harassing and threatening their startup business. To learn who, his quest leads him to gator country in the Florida Everglades, where he must separate business from the more than pleasurable sisters he is intent on protecting._

**I PACKED MY** go-bag and headed out to the local airport. I climbed aboard a chartered light twin ahead of a man and his wife. They were headed to Kendall, too. The difference was, they'd be climbing aboard their private jet when we landed.

I condescended to join them on the tarmac while I waited for the FBO to bus me to the terminal building and my rental. I had nothing but time. One thing could be said for being the chief of police in a smaller city. It's kind of boring when you have competent help.

If my job was any indication, I'd found nirvana. To make sure, I'd hired on some of my old colleagues from the big city who were looking for a quieter life. That, and some retirees looking to double dip.

I took the cheap route into the city and pulled into the back lot of one more deco building in downtown Coral Gables. I had an appointment to meet Avery Collins. She's the one who contacted me about the threatening emails and texts her boss had been receiving.

Avery worked for a startup that specialized in, oh, I don't know, something twenty-first-century that produced apps or software primarily for phones. Apparently the business was successful. The owner bought it out from her partner and moved south to get out of the city. So far, she'd been a success on her own.

Not to prejudge, but perhaps that was part of the problem. Perhaps the former owners were envious now that the business was a going concern making plenty of money. It's called jealousy. It isn't limited to men and women and their personal relationships.

I wanted to get a look at those email headers. I walked with Avery up the stairs towards the second floor office space. The scent of expensive perfume in just the right amount wafted over me. I was impressed. A little went along way-just the way I liked it.

—Did you tell your boss about involving me in this? If you didn't, you should.

—No. I thought I'd get your opinion first and perhaps take it up with her after you've had a look.

Avery led me into a spacious office. It was furnished in very expensive Swedish modern, meaning every piece was purposefully designed and probably ten times as costly as it needed to be. It all went to show that the company had arrived. I didn't care. It wasn't my business. Hell, I could run my side business as a private investigator out of a phone booth-except there weren't many of those left.

Avery went behind her desk and slid the computer across to me.

—Is this your laptop?

—Yes. I do all the email. Sending. Receiving. Texting, too. And replies. Sometimes I have to check with Maria, but for the most part she allows me to proceed on my own. She tries to keep me as informed as possible. I accompany her to meetings and take notes.

I plugged in my key and ran search software. I ended up in a loop. So far, there was no way of identifying the sender. Not at all unusual if he knew what he was doing. I left the software running, just in case it came up with anything before I headed off to my hotel.

—I'll need copies of the email headers. I need to look at them, just in case. Is there anything else I should know? What about the texts?

She handed me the phone. I scrolled through the past several days.

—It's a busy account. No wonder you didn't notice right away.

Outgoing and incoming were in equal numbers.

—We use an auto-responder for the most part. It saves time when I don't have to reply personally to every text we receive.

The gist of the problematic texts were basically the same as the emails, in fewer characters.

—Who has your boss pissed off recently?

A pained expression crossed Avery's face.

—No one that I know of. At least, none that would be wanting to kill her.

—And you?

—Me? What do you mean?

She must have thought I was putting her in the lineup as a possible guilty party.

—Yes. You. As her representative. Who have you annoyed?

She smiled warmly and exposed a mouthful of whitened teeth behind glossed lips.

—No one. Unless turning down dates will do it. But then, I don't use company phones for private business. Or private shenanigans, for that matter.

I returned the smile, only it wasn't as expensive. My teeth hadn't had the whitening. And I didn't wear gloss.

—Good to know. Now about those former owners that she bought out when the company was on the downswing. Tell me what you know about them.

Avery sat back in her chair. I think she was about to swing her feet up onto the desk and cross her ankles when she remembered she was wearing a dress. She thought better of it, pulled her chair and her legs under it, and leaned forward on her elbows. She regarded me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

—I'm sorry. I've been so relaxed since meeting you—

—Not a problem. I have that effect on some people. You were about to tell me—

—Yes. The former owners. Three of them. Well, they were happy that Avery attempted to pick up the pieces. I don't think they were expecting her to come up with the cash. High fives all around after she cut the check and walked out of the boardroom.

—So that part was a surprise for them. Was there anyone else who might have wanted to buy it at a rock-bottom price? And why did she walk out of the boardroom? Didn't she own it from that point in time?

Avery thought for a moment. She pushed her chair back and moved to the window. Sunlight streamed into the office, causing her shadow to fall across me. When she turned, I didn't have to squint. I had a clear view.

—I don't know for certain, but I think perhaps at least one of the previous owners wanted to buy. I have no proof, so if you ask Maria, don't mention my name. It's what I heard via the grapevine. The rumor was that they were waiting for the bottom to fall even farther so they could pick it up for next to nothing.

—Maria beat them to it.

She turned back to the window.

—Do you have any plans for dinner, Jim?

The invitation came completely out of the blue. I unplugged my key from her laptop.

—None at all, beyond that I'll be eating at some point in time. Did you have something in mind?

I learned my hotel had a trendy dining nook that I shouldn't overlook while I was in town. I was thinking that I shouldn't overlook Avery, either. She was an attractive woman, long and lean and a looker to boot. We settled on a time.

—I'll expect you in the lobby.

She showed me out and closed the door. Through the window I could see her on her phone, talking animatedly. I wanted to be a fly on the wall listening in. She looked up, smiled warmly at me, and waved. I wondered what poor schmuck she was turning down to go on an unplanned dinner with the likes of me.

Before heading upstairs, I stopped by for a look at the hotel restaurant. It was trendy. Pricey, too. It wasn't open yet, but I waved over someone who looked important, slipped him a twenty, and reserved the table in the darkest corner of the room.

While I hung my clothes, I went over what Avery had been able to tell me about the business. There were fifteen employees. That was down fifty from before she took over. Obviously the woman made the cuts to survive. I wondered why the previous owners hadn't done the same. It crossed my mind that perhaps they actually did want to run the company into the ground, for whatever reason.

I checked my own email and then looked over what Avery had forwarded. I was just about to run the headers though a domain searcher when someone surprised me by knocking on the door. I was even more surprised when I opened it and Avery appeared, perfectly dressed and made up to look like a million.

—I don't think we can get into the restaurant until much later.

She caught me looking her over. The look was hard to miss. I only hoped I wasn't drooling, too.

—That's all right. I thought we could go for a walk.

I didn't kick her out. I let her sit and watch as I readied myself for, for, well, whatever it was she was up to. I took a breath and a chance.

—If you'd like to stay in, we can order.

She cocked an eye and smiled and there was trouble if I ever saw it.

—I didn't wear this just to take it off an hour after putting it on. At least let me show it off, first.

Promises. We smiled and blushed and I had to open my mouth.

—In that case, come with me and I'll show off everything about you.

I offered my arm and she took it. I pressed it close. She didn't appear to mind. Neither did I.

—Where would you like to go, Avery?

—That's for me to know and you to find out.

What I didn't know was that Avery's penthouse was only a couple of blocks distant. She was leading me in that direction when the drizzle began. By the time we reached the entrance to her building, it had turned into a hard rain. We squished into the elevator. The doors opened on a penthouse not much larger than her office. I knew right away who furnished both places.

—Don't go away. I'll be right back.

Avery returned in a short robe. She handed me its twin and I went to get out of soaking wet clothes. On my return I was subjected to a cold drink and what looked to be a very warm woman.

She hadn't bothered to remove her dark stockings. She made sure the pattern was plainly visible at the tops of white, well-shaped thighs when she crossed them. I made sure to look.

Normally, I wouldn't have been suspicious, but we'd only met mere hours before. It seemed to me that Avery was awfully eager to get me on her side. One way or the other. I waited while she checked her pinging phone for a text.

—I'm sorry, but I have to answer this.

She scrolled through the messages.

—It's Maria. She wants to come up.

I beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom and donned my still-soggy suit just in time to have Maria usher me quickly into her bedroom.

—Do you mind? I don't want her to know you're here. I shouldn't be long.

I wasn't able to listen in on the conversation through the closed door. I did manage to hear the penthouse elevator doors close when the woman left. I walked back into the living room.

—I think she knew I had company. I didn't have time to make our glasses disappear.

—That's all right. I need to be going anyway. I probably shouldn't be here, either. I'll check in with you tomorrow at your office if that's all right.

Avery walked me to the door. On the way out, she brushed my face with the back of her hand.

—You need a shave.

Before she closed the door, she kissed me on the cheek. I briefly considered walking back in, but something about discretion being the better part of valor took over my sensibilities.

I still had a few, so I left. Reluctantly.

I hurried upstairs to my room and changed into something more comfortable than a soggy suit before testing the waters for what now would be my solo dinner at the trendy restaurant. On the way to my table, the maître d' informed me that a young lady was waiting.

That was news to me, until I saw who it was. I knew because I checked the company web site after returning from Avery's.

Maria, the owner, looked up and smiled as I approached.

—I checked with the hotel. They told me you had a reservation. I hope you don't mind. I decided I wanted to join you.

—I don't mind in the slightest.

I held out my hand.

—I'm—

—I know who you are. I saw you talking with Avery earlier today. And yes, it's a small operation yet. It's not big enough to get lost in, although I'm hoping it will be soon enough.

If the attractive, dark-haired woman sitting in front of me had gone to the bother of finding out where I'd be eating dinner, she obviously wasn't one I should be telling any lies.

—You're hoping it will be soon enough? You're looking at acquiring financing, then.

—Yes. And it could be touchy if the lenders found out I'm on a wanted list, if you'll pardon the expression.

It worked for me.

—Avery asked me to come in to discuss the threats you've been getting. Are you aware of them?

—Only peripherally. I get copies automatically sent to me of all her incoming and outgoing emails. Don't tell her that, by the way. It's confidential. I didn't take the threats seriously. I'm surprised she did.

—Do you see incoming texts?

—Yes. I see those, too, when I bother to look. Most of the time, I can't be bothered unless it's a complaint about one of our apps. Then Avery brings them to my attention.

—So then, you know—

She regarded me across the table.

—Of course I know.

—Then why didn't you—

—Because I don't need the publicity right now. I'm trying to grow the business. If people find out that I'm being threatened, or that the company is in trouble, whether true or not, it's bad news that we don't need publicized.

—It certainly wouldn't be coming from me.

—No, but it's a small world in the software app industry. It only takes one person to leak. And doubly frustrating, I'm a sole woman owner and in charge. I think you know how that goes over.

I had to admit I did. I also let her know I was familiar with the news reports of the stereotyping suffered by women in the software industry. We enjoyed our dinner. I asked plenty of questions and she seemed to like talking about what drew her into the world of software and how it pushed her towards phone apps. I let her go on until she stopped suddenly and regarded me.

—You're quite the charmer. I've been telling you all about me while not asking anything about you. Do you often have this effect on women?

I blushed and smiled.

—It's my job, mostly, but in this case—

—I think in this case I'm making it easy for you, aren't I?

It was her turn to blush, a light pink that settled beneath her neck and moved subtly lower.

—Look at it this way. I'm getting to know you, while already you know me so well that you're finishing my sentences.

Maria flushed an even deeper pink and excused herself. I observed a tall, dark-haired, extremely attractive woman walking away. Her long hair swung from side to side with every step. I hoped she wouldn't be crawling out a window in her haste to make good an escape.

I paid the check just in case, and then waited patiently.

* * *

**THE CAR CAME** out of nowhere, announcing its arrival with the roar of throaty exhaust and screaming tires on damp pavement. A beer can exploded, spraying its contents everywhere. I grabbed Maria's arm and tugged hard, dragging her out of the way just in time. The older vehicle sped past. Blacked-out windows. Missing plates.

I had nothing..

Maria collapsed against me. I caught her before she went down. I steadied her with an arm and edged her to the far side of the walkway.

—Don't move. I'll be right back.

I checked with the hotel doorman. The car had been parked about an hour, maybe a little less. He didn't see anyone getting in or out the entire time. I thanked him and slipped him five before going back to Maria.

—Now do you believe there's something going on that you have no control over?

I walked her across the busy intersection with an eye out for more of the same in the many cars hurrying past in the light drizzle.

—Jim-

I halted on the sidewalk and looked at her. She was still shaking uncontrollably.

—Come home with me.

—I'll flag a taxi.

In this weather finding one wouldn't be easy.

—It's not that far. We can walk.

In five minutes we were at her building's front door. In another two, the elevator door opened to a large penthouse with a view of the city to kill for-in a good way. It would seem that both women had the cash. I wondered where it came from originally.

—Sit down. I'll be right back.

She changed into a pair of slacks and a blouse. Her makeup had been removed, replaced with only a bit of lip gloss. Like many women, it was all she needed, and she knew it. She smiled at me again. She seemed to be doing that a lot.

—What? You were expecting something else?

I was all about stammering.

—Well—

Maria didn't finish my sentence this time. Instead, she held out her hand.

—Come on. It's not so cold that we can't check out the view.

I hesitated and wondered how many others there were that she made the same offer.

—Not that many. Now come on.

It was as though she could read my mind.

—Quite the view, isn't it?

I offered Maria my jacket in the cool, damp air. She led me back into her apartment and took it anyway. I helped drape it over her shoulders.

—What are you doing tomorrow?

—I'll be trying to figure out who it is that has taken a sudden dislike to you. Shouldn't that be obvious?

—Well of course. But besides that. Have you ever been on an air boat?

—It's not something I thought about much, so no. Is it something I have to do to get the job?

—I've been wanting to take some away time for a while. We'll go tomorrow. I'll pick you up first thing.

She kept my jacket and ushered me into the elevator. She rubbed my cheek with the back of her hand and smiled as the door closed. I wondered what had just happened.

Maria seemed all but oblivious to the fact that someone was trying to frighten her by threatening her life. Whether it was a genuine threat, I had no idea.

And now she was hauling me off to the swamp for a boat ride. I'd be on the clock-her clock. I wondered if she realized that.

Maria picked me up bright and early in her convertible with the top down. We headed off on the ninety minute drive. I didn't fail to notice the picnic basket in the back seat.

—So you're a detective after all.

I shook my head.

—You're being obvious. Should I be flattered?

—That's up to you. I just thought I'd show you one of my favorite places to watch alligators. We might as well have lunch before heading back.

—You do realize that you're paying me for this outing, right?

—Will I be getting my money's worth? Do I need a bodyguard out in the middle of nowhere?

—Only if the alligators are of the two-legged variety.

She looked across the seat.

—In that case, I'll be sure to be on guard.

The back of her hand brushed my face.

—You shaved.

—Sometimes a man has to make sacrifices if he wants to get ahead of the game.

—And sometimes a man needs to relax and let go.

I tried to ignore what she said and contemplate life instead. It was difficult when the woman I was sitting beside was dressed to impress in a pair of sensible shorts, a tight white blouse, topped by a scarf blowing in the wind. Was I suddenly in a modern version of an old noir?

Like a kid, I squinted. I still couldn't see us in black and white.

Maria slowed and pulled off the highway. In five minutes we were at a modern-looking cabin on stilts surrounded on three sides by swamp. A boathouse almost as big as the chickee beside it was out back.

—Keep an eye out for the gators. I'll be right back.

It became obvious there were more than a single variety of two-legged gator.

An hour later I was sunburned and tired. We ended up on the screened-in porch drinking wine and eating sandwiches Maria made for the trip into the swamp. I concentrated on trying not to show my age by not yawning. It was a struggle to keep my head from nodding, too.

So much for not showing my age.

Someone pounding on the door brought me out of my reverie. A female voice called Maria's name. It sounded too much like Avery.

—Maria.

She stopped short when she saw me on the veranda.

—I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company.

—It's all right. I think you already know Jim.

I caught Avery's side-eye and threw it back. Damned if I was going to make excuses when I'd been invited on a buggy ride by Maria. All she wanted to do was show me some alligators.

And maybe show off her legs in the process.

When the lead began flying, I pulled two beautiful women to the floor and immediately climbed on top to shelter them as best I could. It was in the heat of battle making small talk with a strange man beside them when they admitted they were sisters. Fraternal twins.

So much for the line of reasoning I had been developing in thinking that Avery might have had something to do with the threatening messages. While it didn't mean that she couldn't, it took some of the heat off of her assistant. Still, I wondered why neither of them had mentioned it before now.

I made the mistake of leaving my hardware back at the hotel. I found myself begging the women for a handgun. As a consequence of their being residents of the state, I ended up with two when each fished into their bags. I thanked them profusely and asked about the likelihood of alligators before I stepped out onto solid ground surrounded by swamp.

Before I could take a step outside, a swamp boat's powerful aircraft engine echoed off the line of trees in the distance. If the shooter was still around, I'd be surprised.

—That's probably the shooter's boat. I need one of you to pilot me to that grove of trees. It's the closest to your cabin.

Which was more like a mansion, but I didn't let on. There was no sense in letting anyone think I was a big-city hick. I had no problem when both of them chose to jump on board. I couldn't blame them. I wouldn't want to be alone and left behind if someone had taken pot-shots at me, either.

The flat-bottomed aluminum boat drifted out of the boathouse. The noisy, unmuffled engine fired up in a cloud of blue smoke. Maria explained that the engine hadn't been started in ages. Excess oil sometimes collected in the bottom cylinders.

She handed me a pair of earmuffs, advanced the throttle slowly, and we were at speed in no time. Grass slapped against the bottom of the boat as she expertly steered around the occasional patch of dry ground obscured by the grass.

Judging by the way she handled the boat, I'd think Maria was a swamp girl from way back. Avery touched my arm and pointed at flocks of birds taking flight as we sped past.

As it turned out, other than a bit of flattened grass, there was nothing left behind capable of offering any clues. The tall grasses and soft moss concealed any sign other than some flattening that was popping back up as we arrived.

We headed back to the cabin to regroup. I needed to re-think the reasons for the threats.

—Now that I know you're sisters, I need each of you to come up with a list of possibilities for the threats. Personal and business. Who did you date? Who did you dump that took offense when you ended up dating someone's friend? That kind of thing.

—You can't be serious.

—Don't leave anyone out, no matter how impossible you think it might be. When you're done, I want you both to talk through your lists while I ask questions.

I headed for the picnic basket and brought it in. While the women argued over former boyfriends, I set out what was left for lunch in the dining room.

—Come and get it or I'll feed it to the four-legged alligators.

The noisy discussion ended immediately as loud laughter followed me to the kitchen. The food disappeared almost as fast as if I was feeding alligators.

—Are you going to leave some for me, or do I have to order in? And where's the beer?

They looked at each other and then at me.

—I guess that means there isn't any.

While the food settled and the sisters took a break from their arguing, they ended up presenting a list of a dozen possibilities. I helped them shortlist just about half-a-dozen of the more serious. Other than that, there was no way to tell if a rando had inserted him or herself into the equation. There was no way to find out, either.

—We have to go with the list. You settled on seven. Tell me why.

Their reasoning sounded plausible. Outside of petty office grievances, there was no reason to suspect employees. The best had been carried over to the new business. If it was to be an employee, it might be one who had been let go.

As far as former owners, both had dated one or the other. There was no love lost, but even so, the breakups had been amicable. Each had worked with their former partners in the old firm. That none had been brought over said they didn't have any faith in them.

Once we'd settled on the short list, I inquired about boat rentals in the immediate area. There were three. I suggested we drive out to see if we could find out if there had been any recent rentals.

—Put your short-shorts on and we'll see what turns up. While you detract from the obvious, I'll wander down to the docks and check for warm engines. In this heat they won't be cooling off that fast.

We headed for the car and I was treated to a leg extravaganza the likes of which I hadn't seen since leaving the city. I tried hiding my interest, but I think they knew anyway. I never was much for hiding anything when it came to the women in my life.

Not that these two were in my life, but I could hope.

Avery picked up some groceries in a small store on one of the docks, and we were in business for dinner. It hinted that we'd be staying overnight. Perhaps that would draw the shooter, forcing him to make another attempt in the dark of night.

I unfurled the map I added to the grocery bag and spread it on the dining room table.

—There was one warm engine.

I pointed to the location on the map.

—If he's the one, whoever it was might come back later tonight if he recognized us nosing around. We could park out of sight somewhere on his route back to where I think the shots came from. It would put us in the middle of it. If we stay here, we'll be sitting ducks for a marksman at night.

The women looked at each other and then at me.

—Which means no lights.

* * *

**I CLIMBED THE** stairs to my room on the second floor of the cabin. Some cabin it was. It was a home-a rich person's home. A chickee, but designed much fancier. On the outside, it fit in with the expanse of open water, tall grass, and blue sky.

A thatch roof on the outside. Inside, thick wooden supports. An interior open design with screened windows all around meant to be left open. A huge patio. Compared to what I'd witnessed at the touristy air boat locations, this family of two was moneyed. With plenty of it, by the look.

I bedded down for the night. A quiet knock on the door took me out of my reverie of money and the people who had too much for their own good. In the dark I rolled out of bed, and lit a candle provided by the girls, and I shuffled my way to the door.

—We can't sleep. We're scared. We don't know what to expect. And—

For a moment I considered-well, I'm not sure what I considered.

—So you came up here because you're frightened.

I opened the door wide and stepped aside.

—Crawl into my bed. You can share it.

There was no doubt they were sincere. Not another word issued forth from either of them. Instead, the sound of steady breathing took over the room almost immediately. I grabbed my clothes, snuffed the candle, and headed downstairs to the living-room sofa.

It was near sunup when I planted my feet on the floor. I checked the magazines of the small-caliber automatics the women handed over yesterday. I checked the actions, too. Clean and well-oiled, both appeared cared for. I wondered if the men in their lives were as well looked after.

With a sinking full moon and twilight beginning, I ambled down to the end of the dock. I debated what it was I should do. I'd never run an air boat in any of my previous lives. Befuddled, I looked up at the bedroom window. The curtain shifted, revealing a women looking down. I waited a couple of minutes for whoever it was to dress and wander down to the dock.

—I couldn't sleep after I woke up. Then I saw you were gone, so I figured-

It was Avery, dressed and ready to go in sensible shorts and a top.

—You figured right.

In the dim light, without makeup, she was strikingly beautiful. As was her sister who bounded down the dock to join us moments later.

—Well, let's not stand around measuring our dicks. I'll cast off while you figure out who's driving.

—Would you like to drive?

—I would. But not at night. That's your job. You're familiar with the swamps.

I hoped.

I'd figured them for a couple of city girls until Maria took the helm of the boat yesterday and displayed her expertise. With this expanse of swampland, either someone had sold them a bill of goods and they wanted to make the best of it, or they were swamp girls from way back.

I went with the second and untied. I pushed off and jumped aboard. I joined Maria on the lower seat as Avery fired up. She firewalled the throttle and sped away from the dock. She navigated across the lagoon. I couldn't be certain in the strong slipstream, but when I looked up I thought I detected a smile as she looked at me.

On this go-round the noise wasn't as bad as I thought. Maria explained how the four-bladed prop, belt drive and mufflers kept noise to a minimum for an air boat. Even so, it wasn't silent. I put on the earmuffs and enjoyed a quieter ride.

What we'd find waiting at the end of it was another matter. I hoped for something left behind by the shooter.

A loud bang followed by a sudden, jolting halt threw the three of us forward in a tangle of arms and legs. Ever so slowly the boat began tipping on its side. The engine continued its roar as the fiberglass prop slammed against the water and disintegrated. Chunks flew through the cage, breaking it apart. In uncontrolled overspeed, the engine screamed. Bearings seized and it halted suddenly with a loud grinding noise and a jolt.

I struggled to clamber up the high side over seatbacks and scattered chunks of propeller and metal cage. It turned into a futile attempt to prevent the flat-bottomed boat from going over completely on it's side. I stepped on a body. It groaned and I struggled to climb down.

—Are you all right? Where's your sister? Where's Maria?

I spied the woman on her back in the murky water. I stepped off the upturned bow and landed in the soft, mucky, swamp bottom. I struggled to make way, knee-deep in tall grass and mud while anticipating an alligator doing the same thing when it discovered fresh meat and went for it.

The woman weighed me down. Every step sunk me deeper as I struggled to get Maria to the boat. I pulled out a foot. The opposite went in deeper. Just when I thought I'd make it in a few more measured steps, arms and legs caught on the grass, slowing progress even more.

—Avery. Quick. Grab on.

Huffing for breath and exhausted by the fight, I barely managed to lift the woman and dump her unceremoniously over the seat. Avery struggled to hold on while I climbed aboard. Together we yanked her legs out of the range of an alligator's open jaws. They clamped down with a slapping sound on empty air. Disappointed, it twisted away and half-swam and half-stalked off, disappearing in the dense grass cover.

—Holy shit. Those things are fast.

I sat on the upturned edge of the seat and huffed and puffed my way back to sensibility. Maria slowly began coming around from the bump on the head when she struck the gunnel. A bit of blood dripped down the side of her face. She appeared dazed, but otherwise unhurt.

—Don't worry, girl. You'll be as good as yesterday in a week.

—Thanks. I think. Now tell me how you're going to get us out of this moonlight mess of a cruise.

Advancing sunrise showed us the extent of our dilemma. The remnants of an old, waterlogged stump had punched a hole in the bottom of the swamp boat. The propeller struck the water and was damaged beyond use. Remnants hung in strings of fiberglass off the drive shaft. Even if we could get the boat righted, we'd be able to make our way exactly nowhere. The paddles would be no help.

—We're screwed.

To reinforce my announcement, the occasional alligator became visible thanks to the growing light appearing over the horizon.

—If this was a road, I'd beg one of you to undo a button or three and show a little leg.

The sisters unbuttoned and grinned like fools.

—I said leg.

They shrugged and looked disappointed.

—Okay, so I don't have to beg. It's all very nice, but it won't get you out of here. You're going to have to do better. And no, I don't mean take off your pants.

The peals of laughter echoed off the line of trees on the edge of the swamp.

—Look. You two are the only swamp experts I know, but I think we're done for until a better idea comes along. Now who wants to go diving for the phones?

I took off my shirt and was about to answer my own rhetorical question. Avery beat me to it by stripping to her bra and panties. I tried not to look— oh hell, that was a lie. I looked. She caught me. I made a feeble attempt to cover.

—I'll keep an eye out for gators.

—And who's going to keep an eye out for you?

I looked in Maria's direction. Avery chuckled.

—Not likely. She's as smitten as I am.

Avery stepped off the upturned edge of the boat and slipped into the murky waters of the swamp. When her head poked up over the edge, all that was missing was a k-bar clamped in her teeth.

—All right, swamp girl. What did you come up with?

A hand flipped up over the edge. She threw her bra in my direction and slithered back into the dark swamp water. It was a long shot that she'd find a phone. It was even longer odds that the waterlogged thing would work.

Five minutes. Grass rustled and water splashed and gurgled as the woman continued searching. Then ten. And then she came up with a phone clutched in her hand. I grabbed for it and offered her my own hand. I pulled her aboard, covered in grass and mud.

—The things I sacrifice for the men in my life.

I managed a quick glance before looking away.

—Only the ones that deserve it.

She flicked mud in my direction and then bent over the gunnel to rinse her bra. I considered smacking her ass, but only for a split second. We were still stranded. Having to rub her ass after retrieving the phone she worked so hard to come up with would be an indignity.

-If you plan on doing the same with your underwear, let me know and I'll turn around.

—Why? You know you're going to get to see all of me eventually.

She looked at her sister.

—In fact, probably all of both of us.

I ignored her and instead removed the battery and SIM card. I wiped everything down and placed it in the sun to dry. With a lot of luck, we might get to make a call.

What day that would be was anyone's guess.

Swarms of buzzing flies as big as helicopters gathered at sunrise. We slapped everywhere in futile attempts to chase them away.

—We need to cover ourselves in mud if we don't want to get eaten alive.

We helped each other smear mud on unreachable places. I climbed onto the upturned side of the swamp boat and looked around. In the early-morning sun I spotted a rooftop reflecting in the distance.

—We have a neighbor.

Avery turned for a look.

—That's my place. I have the only other cottage in this part of the world. That's the reason I showed up yesterday. I was checking on the construction crew.

—How much land do you two own in this part of the world?

She dug for a topo sheet in one of the bags still on board. The property lines reached to both of the swamp boat companies I had checked out earlier. In fact, it surrounded the properties on the other sides as well and went on for a mile or two.

—How did you end up with all of this?

—Our father bought it in the great Florida land rush. You probably heard the jokes concerning swampland for sale back in the dark ages.

I had, and wondered how people could be so gullible.

—Well, good old dad bought it up as quick as that. Where Maria's place is located is our former home where we grew up.

—So you are swamp girls. No wonder you beat me over the side.

She smiled.

—When we started to become successful, we made sure the land stayed in the family. We made a couple of offers for the two properties you looked at yesterday, but they wouldn't bite. Those people were raised here, too. They were our neighbors. That's probably why.

Her story got me thinking. Avery was constructing a new building. What if either or both businesses thought that they might lose the surrounding isolation to an eventual subdivision consisting of moneyed part-timers from the city?

They might not be so happy about it.

The orange and white helicopter buzzing overhead looked to be the Coast Guard. Flares. We needed flares.

—Where are they?

—What?

—Flares, dammit. Surely you've got an emergency kit somewhere in this broke-down piece of crap. I need it now.

Maria frantically dug through what was left on board. She came up with the flare kit. I broke it open, inserted a cartridge, and aimed. A trail of smoke heading straight up would have to be enough.

The helicopter turned and circled overhead. For good measure, I popped a second cartridge. A crewman appeared in an open doorway and I knew we were going to be fine.

Buzzing mosquitoes were blown away and replaced by the buzzing, hovering helicopter overhead as a crewman winched down. The women went first, one at a time. Three mud-covered human blood banks were greeted by the young crew members.

—I think they want phone numbers.

The women looked over the men like they were hanging in a meat locker.

—Yeah. No. We like them just a little older. You know, about your age.

We all declined the offer of a flight to a hospital and instead insisted that we be put down at Maria's cabin. The women hurried inside. I followed the sound of running water to the shower. I knocked to let them know I was outside.

—You might as well come join us. After this, the only fun is going to be swabbing with calamine.

We settled in the living room, partially dressed. They set out the lotion and the swabs and readied me for the ordeal with drinks. And they were almost right. It wasn't half fun at all. It was all fun.

—So tell me again about the property you own. And how did the two interlopers gain traction in the middle of it all?

While they took turns painting parts of me pink on the spots the mud missed, I listened. In ten minutes, they were done, and so was their story.

—All right. It's my turn to do you.

—Which one of us do you want to do first?

I raised an eyebrow and considered before speaking.

—I think I'd like to do both at the same time.

Giggling and laughing, Avery and her sister Maria allowed me to paint certain parts of their anatomy a pink that matched my own. As I got closer to finishing, they managed to struggle into clean clothes. Both looked like a million dollars, notwithstanding the pink swatches here and there. We were a matched set.

—Show me that map again, would you?

I took a long time studying it. I wondered if it could be something so obvious that the girls hadn't considered.

—Now check out the boundary to your properties on the map. Are they accurate? I need to see how it all looks. And what about the road? Who owns that? And who maintains it?

* * *

**I TURNED DOWN** all the drinks. I knew myself too well. And these women weren't shy. Why was it that sisters always seemed to play a part in my life when it came to getting in trouble? I'd wait for that answer, probably for a lifetime. I determined this wasn't the time or the place.

To compensate for my inhospitable behavior, I threw the steaks we picked up on the barbecue. Somewhere a salad got made. Wine flowed. I didn't turn down the wine, although I kept a watchful eye on intake.

A light evening breeze whispered gently across the patio and ruffled the sheer curtains. I unfolded the chart on the table and placed glasses to weight it down.

—Do we need to close the screens, or will the breeze take care of the mosquitoes?

Maria smacked my shoulder and brushed a critter away.

—What do you think?

I chose that moment to clear the grill and serve up the steaks. The salad went ignored as the women dug in with healthy appetites to devour the meat and potatoes.

—Remind me never to get in front of either of you at a steak house.

There was no quick comeback. The day's activities had worn them down, too.

—Does anyone mind if I finish the salad? You shipshape women aren't vegetarian. The gators are going to have to go without one more time.

Conversation lagged, and instead I was met with rolling eyes and busy mouths until only bones remained. The only thing missing was satisfied burps.

—How did you like my cooking?

Fingers continued their scratching at calamine. I pushed back in the chair and observed the women. They sipped their wine, pretending to ignore my looks by staring out over the lagoon. It was a good time to go back to work.

—Now then, tell me about your neighbors. Better yet, tell me about your original homestead on this spot first. Maybe after that we'll get to the neighbors.

They took turns explaining how their father had obtained the tract of land. How he'd pushed a road through on his own. How he'd chosen the site of the original homestead based on the river branches for swamp boat access. How he'd eventually struck it rich in the construction business and built up the sites of the two existing homes for future construction by his daughters.

Maria had chosen to bulldoze the old homestead and start from scratch. Avery had waited until a little later before beginning the construction on her cottage farther downriver.

—That's about it. We're not developing anything beyond what you see. We're sticking to our father's request that the land remain undeveloped.

—And you're both all right with that? No regrets in the subdivision department? No wanting developers to come in and do their thing for the money?

Their heads shook in unison. I was convinced. I waited them out, wanting them to turn the conversation towards their neighbors on their own.

The explosion rattled doors and windows in their frames. Avery scrambled out to the patio to observe a growing cloud of smoke hovering over the horizon.

—Son of a bitch. Maria. That's my place. Some bastard is trying to burn it down. Come on, you two.

Avery kept up with the cursing as we rushed to the truck. Doors flew open. In their haste I was forced to jump in on the go.

—Woman, take it easy. If it's blown to bits there's nothing you can do about it. If it's still standing, that's a plus.

—You're right.

There was no let up on the gas. She floored it instead. The determined look on Avery's face said she wasn't about slowing. Maria and I clicked seat belts and sat back, hanging on and bracing for impact.

The truck drifted to a stop in front of the remains of a huge white propane tank. It lay in pieces with sharp metal edges of torn and ruptured steel. A small bit of lumber still burned.

—At least the structure didn't get taken down. You think someone is sending another message?

We stamped on what smoldered and poured buckets of water on the embers. I left the women to their firefighting and wandered around the construction site. The cottage was on stilts, like her sister's place. Walls, a roof and windows had been installed. Only one had been blown out.

Everything else looked undisturbed. Multiple tire tracks led away from the site-most likely vehicles belonging to workers traveling back and forth. Avery joined me on my patrol.

—You got lucky. You only lost a window.

She stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and looked around.

—Yes, I did, didn't I?

—Are you ever going to tell me who you pissed off? Or are you going to be just like your sister and say nothing? I'm supposed to be working for you. And I'm getting paid to be here, whether you understand that or not.

—Is that why you didn't take advantage in the communal shower?

I couldn't help the grin. She grinned back like a bad girl. Maria joined us and worked her way into the conversation.

—What are you two grinning about?

I went on. She'd catch on.

—Being the man that I am, I was curious. I wanted a look.

—You weren't looking. You were practically drooling.

—I couldn't have been. I was in a shower, remember?

—Then what was it that started brushing against our thighs and ended up against our rear ends? A back scrubber?

—So you did notice. Who was doing the drooling again?

I blushed. The women giggled.

—How could we not?

I knew when to declare defeat.

—I need to look around for a bit. You two might want to check out the interior.

—If you're wanting to find us, we'll be in the shower.

—There can't be a-

I halted mid-sentence.

—All right. You got me. Now let's go. I actually have to do some thinking and having the two of you around won't speed up the process.

I made excuses about doing a bit of what I was being paid to get done and dropped the women off at Maria's.

I didn't dare tell them where I was headed next.

I pulled into the first boat operator's parking lot. The buildings were well-maintained and in good repair. A couple of the outbuildings looked to be quite new. If appearances were any indication, business seemed to be pretty good.

Perhaps the owners became concerned when Avery began construction of her home at the end of the unpaved road. Perhaps they were concerned enough to register complaints by means of tossing beer cans and scare tactics the likes of harmless gunfire.

I'd queried the sisters and spent enough time with them to believe their intentions were good. I didn't doubt them when they said they had no plans to turn over their substantial property holdings to any kind of real estate development. Their intent was to hold the land in perpetuity-raw, wild, and undeveloped.

If I was a betting man, and I was, the thinking among the two boat operators probably went something like this. The lifestyle they knew along with their businesses was about to change with the sudden development. The buyers would soon put a stop to the noise pollution and the constant back and forth of the boats disturbing local wildlife.

I knew Maria and Avery never took the time to meet with the landowners. No explanation of intent or future plans had been made. They must have felt it wasn't necessary, for whatever reason.

—Can I help you?

An older woman with a wrinkled face from too much sun approached.

—Yes. You can.

I held out my hand.

—I'm a friend of the Collins family.

Her demeanor changed instantly when I mentioned the name. I carried on without giving the woman a chance to change her mind about listening.

—Apparently there's been some rumors circulating about plans for the Collins property. I'm here to tell you that there will be nothing of the sort.

The hard look on her face softened just a bit.

—You're all invited to a barbecue this evening. Maria and Avery will explain everything-not that there's so much to explain. Do you think you might show up?

—I'll be sure to mention it to my husband. If he's fine with it, we'll be there.

—I noticed a store on the edge of your property. Your employees are invited, too, if you want them to go, that is.

—That's our daughter. She'll be there if the old man says yes.

On my way past the store I stopped and picked up a dozen steaks and a bag of potatoes and onions.

—What have you got for a gumbo? Keep in mind I'm from up north.

The girl looked at me doubtfully.

—Up north? How far?

—All the way to another state far away that doesn't understand gumbo. If I'm going to cook it, I'll need a little help.

—In that case you better let me talk to my mom before you leave. Stay right here.

I took the opportunity to call Maria and explain to her what I was planning.

—Hang on. The girl is back.

—The girl at the store?

—Yeah. Why?

—She's a cook. See if you can get her to help us prepare for the feast. Jim, you are worth every penny. Thanks for coming up with this.

—Don't pay me yet. I still have another business to visit.

I carried on to the second tour business a couple of miles farther down the road. I recognized the boat sitting in the yard on barrels. Water dripped from the hull. A kid busied himself examining the damage to the bottom. He was slowly making his way to the blown engine.

—What do you think? Can it be fixed?

The kid squinted up at me.

—Anything can be fixed, mister. Trouble is, most around here don't have the money to put back into it.

I had to admit he might be right.

—Is your dad around?

—He's out on a tour. Should be back any time now. Go on down to the dock and wait.

He looked me up and down.

—There's shade there if you need it.

He grinned.

—Yeah. Thanks. I was out in that boat when we hit the stump and punched the hole in the bottom.

—I kinda figured by the bites. The pink helped, too. Go on. He won't be long.

I called Maria and explained that her boat was beached and a kid was tallying the damage. I let her know that she might want to consider cementing the relationship by eventually asking for a quote-like maybe later tonight.

—You're costing me a fortune. Do I get a discount for good behavior?

—I don't know. Just how good is your behavior going to be?

Her chuckle came over the phone. I had to be on speaker. In the background her sister laughed.

—You'll have to wait and see.

She hung up on me. I grinned and put the phone away just as a boat roared around the corner. I waited for the captain to tie off and say goodbye to his customers.

—You must be Jim.

He saw my questioning look.

—I had a text from my neighbor. Tell the girls we'll be there. And about that damaged boat we salvaged-

—You don't need to say it. I already talked to the owner. She's going to request a quote to repair or ask for an offer to buy the salvage.

—When my kid is done, that's just what I'll do. I'll see you later tonight. Do we need to bring anything?

—Maybe a little dessert wouldn't hurt. Or some beer. Those women don't have a lick of beer in the cooler.

—Figures. They're city girls now.

—So you know them?

—Knew their father and their grandfather. Knew them when they were nothing more than a couple of skinny little swamp girls.

He held his hand waist-high.

—I'll see what I can scare up for us.

Maria's text appeared frantic, which seemed strange considering I'd already told them about the barbecue.

**there's people here to set up for a neighborhood barbecue. what did you do? how many are coming? what did you tell them?**

My reply was brusque.

**how many neighbors do you have? two families? deal with it**

I waited for a response. None came.

**be back shortly. will explain then**

Colorful awnings were being set up when I arrived. Already gas-fired stoves were heating and topped with pans and buckets and tubs. Maria and Avery rushed out to greet me.

—What the hell did you do?

They looked more annoyed than anything else, and already I wasn't happy at their reluctance to accept my attempt at a solution to their problem.

—When was the last time you two had something to do with your neighbors? They've been talking amongst themselves ever since construction began on your cottage, Avery. And in case you haven't noticed, what you have aren't cottages. They're mansions overlooking a swamp.

—Yes. So what?

—So what have you told them? You told me about keeping the land in pristine form. You told them nothing. It's time. That's why you're having problems. They think you're in the process of selling the land to developers.

—But-

—Somebody go write a speech. Now, dammit! And make sure it's the same one you gave me or there'll be hell to pay and I won't be able to put a halt to it this time.

—Yes, master. Your wish is our desire.

I smacked them both on the ass. Sisters climbed the stairs into the cottage rubbing rear ends. I made my escape and wandered over to visit with the cook. I managed to beg a taste of everything delicious before she shooed me away.

It was just in time to greet the first truckload of people. Dessert landed on a table. Beer was produced. I was happy.

I hoped the neighbors would be too by when Maria and Avery made it back outside.

The block party was in full swing. For only two families, there were a huge number of people. They must have called for reinforcements on the promise of free food and beer.

Music blared from a makeshift speaker setup. Adults danced and talked and drank beer. Kids ran around and yelled and screamed and laughed and chased after one another and played the games they brought to the party. Frisbees were tossed.

Finally, in the lull just before the feast was about to be served, Maria and Avery climbed onto the porch. The flare pistol went off to garner attention.

Someone halted the music. The kids gathered and were shushed by adults. They all made their way to the front of the porch. Nervous murmuring said no one knew what might be coming.

Avery and Maria looked over the gathered crowd. I knew they were nervous. This was no meeting of paid employees. They were on their own. The words they uttered would not be taken for granted.

No one would be displaced because of development. The property would be staying in the family with the sisters, just as their father and grandfather had wanted.

The speech ended. Nothing. No one said a word, as though considering the veracity of the women making the speech. Without prompting, hands clapped. Maria and Avery walked into the crowd and hugged and shook hands.

Dinner was served. Beer was consumed. A deal was made to repair Maria's boat if it could be fixed. Everyone got a little drunk before happily heading home the few miles down the isolated road.

I was alone with Avery and Maria.

—I'm falling asleep here, ladies. I'm going to bed. I'll be heading out first thing in the morning if you'll take me, Maria.

I made my way upstairs. I had no sooner pulled the covers over my head in the dark than I felt a weight on the side of the bed. The covers lifted and a cool body pressed against me. A satisfied sigh escaped my lips as I turned towards the woman.

Another weight settled on the side of the bed I'd just deserted. A second cool body pressed itself against my back.

—What, no sigh for me?

—I'm hoping we'll all be sighing shortly.

Two pairs of hands groped and succeeded. Three pairs of hands congratulated each other. I was only disappointed that I didn't have four hands to match theirs.

At some point during the dark night, I crawled out of bed. There was some concern expressed that I might not return. I quickly put an end to the complaint.

—I need moonlight in order to be revitalized.

Twin visions appeared in my bed, illuminated by the moon's light streaming past he open walls. I was so enthralled, I allowed let myself be held prisoner for another two days.

I permitted it to be only two because I couldn't have lasted any longer.

###

More

All of Jim Nash's adventures are available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Books, Kobo, Smashwords, and Apple ibooks.

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About the Author

Aviator. Fire pilot. Motorcycle rider. Vagabond. Drifter. Trouble-maker. Jack of all trades and master of none. Peter Duke has been riding and writing about the places he's been and the people he's seen for quite a while. Some of his writing is factual; some of it isn't. He likes to leave it up to his readers to decide which–if any–of his lies are the truth.

