Surface Tension - Kling Christine - Страница 56
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I listened for noises out in the hall. The house seemed eerily quiet. Judging from the size of the waterbed that dominated the center of the room, I was in the master bedroom. I checked the desk and both nightstands, but there was no telephone. Most of the desk drawers were empty, with not even a letter opener to use as a weapon.
Across the hall, I heard voices, and I darted back into the closet and closed the door. I picked up the three-ring binder disappointed that there was not more weight to it, and held it high, ready to bean the first person who walked through the door. But the low murmur of voices stayed at a distance, just conversation, men’s laughter. I opened the door a crack, and Chewy pushed his nose inside, demanding to be petted.
“Okay, okay,” I whispered, scratching him behind his ears. I was still carrying the three-ring binder and when I turned to return it to the closet, I noticed the name written on the cover in black Magic Marker. Bahama Belle.
At the window, in the silver moonlight, I read the log of the Bahama Belle as captained by one Zeke Moss. Four seemingly uneventful trips to the Cayman Islands were chronicled. They were hauling American consumer goods, washers and dryers mostly, on the way down, and then bringing back a much smaller load of craft items and cases of Tortuga rum. Each time they came back into the port of Miami, U.S. Customs thoroughly searched the boat and her cargo, and each time they found nothing. Captain Moss seemed very smug in the entries where he noted that nothing illegal had been found aboard.
Then my eye was drawn to the last few entries. Moss noted that the vessel had gone into dry dock and was undergoing the usual assortment of repairs. He wrote that Neal Garrett had come aboard and was doing some kind of work for Crystal. Neal wouldn’t explain to the captain just what he was doing, and that really irked Moss. Finally, Moss was ordered by Crystal to take three days off, leaving Garrett in charge. When Zeke returned, Neal had vanished and the boat was unmanned in the Miami River yard. Moss noted that they were very fortunate nothing was stolen.
The log stopped on the date of Crystal’s arrest. Zeke must have called Crystal and complained about Neal’s irresponsibility, and that’s when Crystal came over with a gift of a little dope to appease the angry captain. He didn’t tell him what Neal had been up to.
Thinking about the drawings I had found inside my copy of Bowditch, it was becoming clear that Neal had created some kind of hidden compartment aboard the Bahama Belle, and had done so on orders from Crystal. But whatever was there, neither Crystal nor the Coasties nor the demolition crew had been able to find it.
The voices from down the hall grew louder: It was clearly an argument.
I hurried back into the closet and returned the ship’s log to the box. I grabbed some other papers out of the box and carried them to the window. Chewy followed me across the room, and I reached down to scratch his ears as I read. There were pages and pages of financial records. I could easily see that the transactions amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars. Given the number of cardboard boxes in there, the totals must be in the millions. Maybe Crystal wasn’t trying to smuggle anything into the country, but was smuggling something out: cash.
I certainly knew enough now to interest Collazo. I just had to get out of this place.
I drew one corner of the drape back slowly and found that the window opened onto a tiny courtyard on the side of the house. A small, dried-up fountain stood at the center of the brick patio, lit only by the moonlight. I unlatched the window and slid up the wood-framed glass. Warm, humid night air flowed into the air-conditioned room, along with the night noises of crickets, frogs, and cicadas. I looked back over my shoulder at the door and down at Chewy. The dog’s dark eyes followed my every move.
I pushed the bottom of the screen outward and slid it to the grass, then ducked through and dropped to the ground. Chewy stood on his hind legs, poking his massive head out the window.
“Chewy, sit.” He immediately dropped to the floor and obeyed. Abaco had never listened to me the way this dog did. “Stay.” I slid the window far enough closed to prevent his escape.
From the patio, a brick path led toward the street along the side of the house past the other bedroom windows. The overgrown areca palms grew like a massive hedge to ensure total privacy in the compound. I had to dodge the overhanging fronds to make my way down the walk, and I stepped carefully around the fanlike branches on the ground lest they crunch underfoot and call the attention of someone inside. This side of the house had not seen a gardener’s care in months, and after the rain, the night air was thick with the sweet smell of layers of rotting vegetation.
The middle bedroom’s mini blinds were drawn, but one of the bottom slats was twisted, and I could see a tiny sliver of the bedroom. The bright lights were on, and a couple of video cameras were focused on the far side of the room. I inhaled sharply when I moved my head to the right and recognized the people in the brightly lit bed. All three were nude. The ponytailed man was sitting on the edge of the bed. Sunny lay on her back spreadeagled, her hands bound at the head of the bed, her eyes wide, and Alexis, the dancer from the Top Ten Club, was kneeling between her legs. All three were listening to Crystal, who was standing beside the bed, giving directions, waving his hands around, evidently shouting, though I couldn’t hear him over the noise of the air conditioner a few feet away from me. Sunny’s eyes held the same look of terror I had seen on Ely’s on the video screen.
Crystal went over to Alexis as though to demonstrate something and suddenly backhanded her, knocking her off the bed. Sunny struggled, but the ponytailed man held her legs, laughing. Crystal turned to yell something at one of the cameramen. As the lights lit his eyes, I saw the raw sexual excitement there, and I felt my throat constrict. He advanced toward Sunny, opened his mouth wide, and stuck out his tongue, running it around his lips in what he must have thought was a sexy gesture, but instead only made him look more hideous. His bug eyes stared at her as he began to unbuckle his pants. I moved away from the window. Running for help now was out of the question.
XXIII
Chewy was still sitting beneath the window like an obedient sentry when I slid the glass open again and reentered the room. His rump twitched and he dog-smiled at me, his tongue falling out the side of his mouth.
I had to get the men to leave that room, leaving the girls behind. I stood in the middle of the room and stared at the closet door thinking that my idea just might work.
Walking over to the window, I tried to imagine what they would think when they ran into the room and saw the open window. I kicked off one of my worn old deck shoes and dropped it on the carpet in front of the window. I thought about whom I was dealing with and kicked off the other shoe as well, dropping it on the lawn outside the window. Stepping into the closet, I made sure that I could fit behind the clothes with my legs hidden by the safe. Yes, it just might work.
I opened the door to the hall and peered out. All was quiet. The next bedroom door was closed. I felt in my pocket for the last piece of gum.
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