Bonefish Blues Page 4

  “I don’t get you, Braken.” The voice was broken and hoarse. “Back home, we want something, we take it. We just dumped a crap load of chemicals in there today. There won’t be any evidence.”

  “It’s a different game here. It’s too small a town to make people disappear. I’ll bet by tomorrow morning, half the people on this spit of sand will know about our visit to the Key.”

  “I suppose you have some ideas about this? After all, it’s your neighborhood.”

  “Actually, I do.” Braken finished his drink. “He’s got a nice property, but he never got a final on the house. I know from a source at the building department his permit’s going to expire. That’ll give us some leverage with him. Offer him his permits back if he stays out of our deal.”

  “And if he doesn’t go along?”

  “Then we play hardball and have it condemned or whatever they do. I got some connections, and we can buy the property before it goes to auction. We’ll make some nice coin on it, and you can do your thing to him.”

  “Sounds like we’re seeing eye to eye here.” The man got up to leave. Then he paused and turned. “Just one more thing. I got your boy’s gambling debts on hold right now, but if this deal doesn’t go through, I’ll do ‘my thing,’ as you say, to collect what he owes.”

  Braken watched as the man left the office. He realized he had been holding his breath and inhaled.

  ***

  Will sat at the table, half a beer growing warm in front of him. He figured it was his sixth — way over his limit. It’d been a long time since he’d been this drunk. Ned had given him the last beer when he locked up a half hour ago. Since then, he’d just been staring at the darkening water, trying to make sense of the day. First the permit thing with the county, then Braken at Flamingo Key and then casing out his property. It couldn’t be a coincidence. His hate and distrust for Braken ran deep, partly because he enabled Cody to prance around like he did, and more for his crooked deals. He’d been a judge just long enough to make all the connections he would ever need, and short enough to avoid any investigations. But what was he up to now? And what could he do about it?

  The sound of a car broke him from his thoughts, and he glanced up.

  An old Corolla was pulling into the lot, and a woman got out when it rolled to a stop. Will saw her coming, and wished he hadn’t had the last five beers.

  “Hey, have you seen Matt?” she asked, her face breaking into a smile when she recognized him.

  The same feeling returned that he had felt last night, stronger now because of the beer. He tried to compose himself. “He left a while ago. Cody told him to walk home.”

  “Nice. Where did that son of a bitch ex-husband of mine go? No, let me guess, he’s at the bar,” she spurted. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump that on you.” She sat down and pulled her phone out, typed in a text message, and set the phone down. “So, Will, got a last name?” She leaned towards him.

  He hesitated and the phone vibrated. She picked it up and typed a response.

  “Well, Will whatever, he’s home, no thanks to you.” She punched him lightly on the arm.

  “Normally I would have driven him, but I’ve had a few too many of these to drive.” He grabbed the beer and held it up.

  “Wish my ex would learn that trick.” She leaned over toward him again. “Maybe we should get some food in you. Take the edge off.”

  His mood lightened, “But what about Matt?”

  “His father leaves him all the time. He’s used to it. Besides, he’s sixteen.”

  “Sorry, never had kids. That stuff is way above my pay grade,” he said.

  “Never mind all that. Let’s go.” She picked up the beer and finished it, then tossed the can in the trash. “Come on. I’m driving.”

  He got up slowly, not sure how his legs would react. They worked to his satisfaction, and he followed her to the car, got into the passenger seat and blushed as she smiled at him. She pulled out into traffic, heading South on US1. “How ‘bout the Keys Fisheries?”

  “That’d be good. I guess I could use some food.” She turned the radio on to a hip hop station and started bopping to the beat. He watched the storefronts roll by as she drove, trying to avert his eyes as she glanced over at him. As they were about to turn he noticed the sign for Kraken Ventures. “That’s your father-in-law’s business isn’t it?”

  “That would be my ex father-in-law. Don’t care much for that man, or his offspring. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She turned right on Thirty-Fifth Street and pulled into the gravel lot. The single-story building housing the market and kitchen was dwarfed by the tiki bar. Generally packed during the season, the voices of a few locals were the only sound coming from the raised bar tonight.

  They walked past the stairs leading to the tiki bar and went to the order window, halfway down the older building. “I’m going to have a hogfish sandwich, what about you?”

  Will realized he hadn’t eaten all day “The lobster reuben. I’m starving.”

  “That’ll fill you up.” She ordered and paid the cashier before he could offer. “I got this. Just a small thanks for looking out for my boy.”

  “Next time’s on me,” he blurted out.

  She looked him over and winked. “Okay, you’re on.”

  Sodas in hand they walked over to the rail, stood close to each other, and looked down at the tarpon swirling around the submerged light. The fish seemed to look up in a Pavlovian response, as most of the tourists fed them. Will watched and wondered how tonight was going to go. He knew he’d had too much to drink and that there was bound to be retribution from Cody when he found out they had gone to dinner - but right now he didn’t care about anything but the warm body pressing her hip into his. The loudspeaker called out Natasha, disrupting his thoughts. Instead of asking for your real name the restaurant asked for your favorite cartoon character. Strange how it usually embarrassed him and he often avoided the place for this reason - like you could feel every eye in the place judging you for your answer.

  Nicole returned a minute later with two plates of food. She guided him to an empty picnic table by the water. “Natasha? That’s your favorite cartoon character,” he asked once they were seated.

  “It’s nothing, they just make you give a name. Always liked her spirit.”

  Will tore into his reuben. He eyed the overstuffed sandwich, knowing it would be better eaten with a knife and fork, but tore into it anyway. The first bite disrupted the equilibrium of the food and half fell onto his plate. Slightly embarrassed he looked at Nicole, thankful that she was engrossed in her own sandwich. He finished what was left in his hand and wiped his face. “Hard to eat,” he muttered, and reached for a knife and fork. More conscious of his manners, now, he finished the plate off. He felt better, the food absorbing the alcohol in his stomach. While he watched her eat, his mind drifted back to Braken.

  “What’s on your mind? It looks like smoke is about to come out of your head,” she said, pushing her plate aside.

  “It’s nothing, just ran into your father-in … I mean ex father —”

  She cut him off. “That’s a mouthful. I just call him Braken, like everyone else. What’s the old creep up to?

  “Twice today, I ran into him with some guy with a scar across his head. Once out at Flamingo Key and then again at my house.”

  “That have anything to do with that lump on your face?”

  “Yeah.” He told her about the boat grounding and his meeting with Scarface.

  “Scarface is Joey Pagliano. You might want to stay clear of him.” She paused, “I still work for Braken though. Don’t like it at all, but Cody never pays his child support. I think the old man overpays me to compensate for his son. He’s creepy though. You should see the way he and Pagliano look at me. If it wasn’t for the money I’d try and help you, but I can’t get by without it.”

  She picked up their plates and dumped them in the trash. He was about to rise, but she sat down next to him. “Let’s forg
et about the Brakens.”

  Chapter 7

  The sun appeared over the window sill and smacked Will in the face. He rolled over in an attempt to ignore it, but the pounding in his head and the need for a bathroom forced him out of bed. A quick glance through fuzzy eyes revealed that it was almost ten a.m. Back from the bathroom and a handful of ibuprofen later, he squinted out the window. At least the wind was blowing, he thought. No charters, and no way he was going out on his board in these conditions. Relieved of responsibility, he went back to bed and tried to reconstruct the past twenty four hours. The last thing he remembered was an awkward kiss at his door. He ran it over and over in his head, more detail emerging each time, but she still left every time and he couldn’t remember why. Confused he drifted off.

  Voices in the yard woke him. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and listened. They were clearly coming from his property, and he strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn’t make anything out. One foot at a time hit the floor, and he was out of bed. And then he sat back down, hoping the room would stop spinning. But the conversation continued, moving closer to the bedroom window. With an effort, he made it to the window and looked at the yard. Two men were standing outside, looking at the house. One was clearly a city inspector, uniform shirt and hat - making notes on a clipboard. The other man came around the corner, and Will was relieved to see it was Roc.

  “Gimme a minute!” he yelled, his breath ragged, mouth bone dry. He tried to count the number of beers he had yesterday but lost count at around ten - way out of his comfort zone. As he brushed his teeth he tried to remember the last time he had a hangover.

  “Sure thing. We’ll come up when we’re done,” Roc called back.

  The cold water felt good on his head as he submerged it under the faucet of the laundry sink, temporarily standing in for a bathroom vanity. He would have taken a cold shower, except that the only working shower was outside. The mirror told the tale of the night before, the bottle of Tequila sitting empty on the floor by the bed visible in the reflection. It took another minute to brush out the bed head and put some clothes on.

  He was nearly dressed when Roc came in the front door without knocking, the inspector following behind. Will walked out of the bedroom.

  “Man, you look like crap,” Roc said.

  “Yeah, well yesterday wasn’t one of my better days.” He rubbed his sore jaw.

  “This is Bill McLean. He’s the building inspector. I talked to him about your permit, and he agreed to take a look with me. See if we could bail you out of this mess.”

  Will tried to say something, but his mouth was too dry. Instead, he nodded, and the inspector chimed in, saving him the trouble. “We try and take care of the full timers here. It’s not like you’re some developer from up North.”

  Will squeaked out a thank you, and the inspector handed him the clipboard, which held pretty much the same information Roc had told him yesterday. The list wasn’t long, but it looked expensive.

  “Let me have a look around inside and I’ll finish it up. Roc assured me you could have this ready for a final in thirty days. I talked to my boss, and he said we’d give you that. But you’ve got to get and extension and finish the work on the list.”

  Relief swept over Will as he handed the clipboard back. Thirty days was better than he had expected. The way Roc had talked he had figured the extensions were over and the house would be condemned or something. Any way you looked at it this was the best case scenario. As soon as the inspector was out of earshot he turned to Roc, “What about the septic thing?”

  “That’s all? I pulled some big strings to get this done. I’m working on it, but it’s environmental health, not the building department that has to sign off on that.”

  “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight here. Thanks for doing this.”

  “You can say that again. Look, get some rest and we’ll figure out a plan tomorrow. I still owe you a bunch of work for all the fishing trips.”

  “Rest is going to be hard to come by. I’ve got to figure out how to raise the money to do all this.”

  ***

  Braken had just gone to lunch, leaving Nicole alone in the office. There were almost twenty employees on the roster, mostly part-time Realtors. It was well known in the real estate community that Braken would take in the strays, without looking too closely at whatever they were being investigated for. As long as they still had a license, they were usually welcome. Since it was pre-season now it was slow; most of the Realtors just checked in once a week. A few came into the office, and those that did, had coffee, read the newspaper, and left well before lunch. Which meant she had the place to herself, for now. Her thoughts went to Will and how maybe she had found a nice guy. A little timid maybe, but he was nice to her. Cody would be a problem. Although she hadn’t wanted to, he was the reason that she had cut it short at the front door last night. Wouldn’t hurt her in the long run though. Usually confident with men, after years working bars, she was unsure about Will; whether he was just shy or not that interested. There was a way to put things in her favor though.

  She locked the door to Braken’s office behind her as she entered. As the office manager, she had a general overview of what happened in the firm, but Braken was notoriously close-mouthed until his deals were done. Then he would bring her in to handle the paperwork. So if he had something going on, he wouldn’t have told her about it. But there had to be a record of it somewhere. She moved over to his desk. Quickly, she checked the drawers, finding nothing but a bottle of bourbon and a few porno magazines. Behind the desk was a credenza, its surface also bare. A search of those drawers revealed nothing.

  Her last chance was his computer. She hit the power switch, thinking it was probably in vain as he password protected his files, and waited while the computer booted up. An idea hit her as she scrolled the file directory with most files showing the symbol of a padlock next to them. She opened the internet browser, went to the history and scanned through the results. The screen was cluttered with sites, but none of them told her anything important.

  She was running out of time before Braken returned, she knew, and pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the screen. Quickly she turned off the computer and left the office as she had found it.

  Back at her desk, she composed herself, breathing deeply to control her racing heart. A few beads of perspiration on her forehead were the only signs that anything out of the usual had occurred. The office was empty and not expecting anyone, she pulled out her phone and stared at the screen. Using two fingers, she zoomed in on the sites in the browser history. She ignored the porn sites and entered the address of what looked like an advertisement on her computer.

  She laughed to herself as the site loaded: Sustainable living in the Florida Keys.

  That was a joke to anyone that knew this area. There was nothing sustainable in the Keys. Food, water, and power were all sent via truck, pipeline, or cable from Miami and points to the north. So what was he doing researching something like that?

  She lifted her head as the door opened, then quickly looked down and minimized the screen just as Braken and Pagliano entered.

  “Any calls, sweetheart?”

  She cringed as he said it. “No, it’s been quiet.”

  “Nicole, too bad Joey’s got to go back to Miami tonight. You two could maybe hit it off.” He winked at the man, then at Nicole. “Maybe next trip.” She put on her best fake smile.

  The man stared at her as he made his way to Braken’s office. On his way out he stopped at her desk and leered, “Yeah, Nicole, maybe next time.” He turned to Braken, scowling, “Follow up on that guy’s house permit.”

  “Sure thing, Joey. Nicole, you’re on your own, I gotta go to the building department.”

  The screen reopened the minute they were out the door. Trying to erase Pagliano’s leering look, she scanned through the sales page, her eyes, experienced at searching real estate listings quickly guided her to the fine print. The sit
e was built by a pro. Slide shows for pictures and search engine terms embedded everywhere, the keywords and meta data geared toward the green movement. It showed a picture of an island with white sand beaches and turquoise water. Next to the picture was an artist rendering of the same island with a cluster of bungalow-style houses sporting solar panels and windmills. A few paragraphs down revealed the cost of investing in the first sustainable community in paradise. A mere $1,000,000 investment got you a share in the golden future. Instantly she knew what they were up to. Flamingo Key had been for sale before and had just been re-listed at a rockbottom price - with the market in the dumps it was cheap. It had infrastructure which made it look attractive on the surface, but anyone knowing Monroe county knew the chances of getting a permit to build were close to nil. If they could buy it cheap and sell without disclosing the problems there were millions to be made.

  Anxious to get the information to Will, and hopefully gain some points, but with no idea how to find him except Matt or Ned, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Matt would be getting out of school in a few minutes. She could pick him up and see if he knew how to find Will. Otherwise, Ned at the docks was sure to have a number. A quick text to Matt that she was on her way to pick him up and she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the school.

  Matt was waiting on the sidewalk when she pulled up below the painted dolphin fish, mascot of the Marathon High Dolphins.

  “What’s up, Mom? You never pick me up.”

  “You know how to find Will?”

  “Jeez, mom aren’t you being a little, you know, aggressive?”