Loitering with Intent

60

EVAN FOUND A parking space a couple of doors from the Steak Shack and parked. He got out of the car, took his briefcase and began walking up the sidewalk. To his surprise, someone fell in beside him.

“Evening,” Manny White said.

“You startled me,” Evan said. “I thought you’d be inside.”

“I’ve already been inside,” Manny said, “checking out the place, and I wanted to be sure nobody’s following you.”

“Who would follow me?” Evan said. “Nobody knows I’m here but you.”

“Yeah, sure, kid. Get the door, will you?”

Evan opened the door and held it, but Manny stood, turning slowly, having a last look at the street.

“You first,” Manny said.

Evan went into the restaurant, followed by Manny, and they were immediately met by a maître d’.

“Good evening, Mr. White,” the man said smoothly.

“Good evening, Marty,” Manny replied. “This is my friend Joe; he’s going to be a good customer, so treat him right.”

“Of course, Mr. White. How do you do, Joe?”

“Just fine, thanks,” Evan said. “Nice place you have here.”

“Mr. White, your regular booth is ready, but if you wish to have a drink at the bar first . . .”

“No, thanks, Marty,” Manny said. “We’ll sit down now.”

They were shown to the booth, and Manny took the seat facing the door.

Evan noticed him scanning the faces of the other diners. “See anybody you know?”

“A couple of people,” Manny said. “I’m more interested in who I don’t know.”

“You’re a careful man, Manny,” Evan said. “I like that; it means we’re less likely to have problems tonight.”

“You have the money?” Manny asked.

Evan patted the briefcase on the seat beside him. “Right here. It’s yours as soon as we get that phone call.”

A pretty waitress approached. “Hi, Mr. White, what can I get for you and your guest?”

“Scotch,” Manny said.

“Same here.”

“Two Chivas Regals coming up,” she said, then left. Evan noticed that Manny was sweating. “Do we have any problems, Manny? Is everything all right?”

Manny mopped his face with his napkin. “Don’t worry, I have good people on this,” he said.

“People? More than one?”

“One to handle the boat, one to shoot,” Manny said.

“Oh, okay.” Evan looked out a side window. “It’s almost dark,” he said.

“Dark is good,” Manny said as their drinks arrived.

TOMMY SCULLEY S AT on Mike Levy’s living room fl oor, with Mike and two deputy sheriffs on the floor nearby. One deputywas pulling a string in a rhythmic fashion, controlling the rocker. The other occasionally pulled the other string, controlling the drinking hand of the dummy.

“So, Mike, how you been?” Tommy asked.

“Not bad. I still miss Ruth, but I’ve been seeing somebody.”

“Good for you.”

“I hear a boat,” one of the deputies said. “Going slow.”

Everybody got very quiet.

“Listen to me,” Tommy said softly. “If there’s shooting, stay on the floor; we don’t want the shooter to see anybody inside.”

“Aren’t we to fire back?” a deputy asked.

“Absolutely not,” Tommy replied. “We want the guy alive, and your boss and a bunch of deputies will be waiting for him at the marina.”

As if to confirm this, a radio came alive. “Eddie, you there?”

A deputy picked up the handheld. “We’re in place,” he said.

“We’re ready at the marina. No shooting back, you hear?”

“Yes, sheriff.” He set down the radio and as he did, there was the sound of shattering glass, and a broken pane spattered the room with shards.

“I didn’t hear a shot,” Mike said.

“And you won’t,” Tommy said.

From outside, they heard an engine rev, then quickly the sound faded as the boat moved away.

Tommy stood up. “We’re okay,” he said, looking at the picture window, which was spattered with what seemed to be gore. “Jesus, Mike, what’s all that stuff?”

“Sponge cake and ketchup,” Mike replied. “It was all I had.”

They got to their feet and went outside to inspect the dead dummy.

“Got me right through the forehead,” Mike said. The motorboat could no longer be heard.

GIGI THROTTLED BACK as they approached the green fl ashing buoy at the mouth of the creek leading to the marina. “Are you happy with your shot?” she asked.

Larry was sitting on the seat beside her, disassembling his rifle.

“Don’t worry, his brains are spattered all over the front of the house,” he said.

MANNY AND EVAN finished their drinks and Manny ordered two more.

“It’s getting kind of late, isn’t it?” Evan said.

“I trust my people,” Manny replied. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Should we order some dinner?” Evan asked.

“You can, if you like,” Manny replied. “I’m not going to be here that long.”

GIGI DROVE SLOWLY past the buoy and into the creek.

“Throttle back to idle,” Larry said.

Gigi did so, and the boat was barely making headway against the current from the creek. They made another fifty yards, and Gigi could see the pontoon and the other boats in the dim light. Larry reached over and switched off the ignition.

“Why did you do that?” Gigi asked.

“The light on the shed is off,” Larry said. As he spoke, they both saw the beam of a flashlight on the trees above the pontoon, then it went off. They were now drifting backward with the current, and the boat began to turn sideways.

“Something’s wrong,” Larry said. “Just let the boat go where it wants to.”

The boat drifted toward the south shore of the creek and brushed against some mangrove. Larry reached overboard, grabbed at the mangrove and propelled the boat downstream. From behind them they heard an unintelligible shout and an equally unintelligible reply, then the engine of a boat started.

“Get us out of here!” Larry hissed. “Go north.”

“Back past the house?”

“They won’t be expecting us there.”

Gigi started the engine and eased the throttle forward. Larry pushed her hand forward. “Don’t worry about the noise; they won’t be able to hear it over their own engine. We’re only a few miles from Stuart; head for there, as fast as you can.”

Gigi swung the boat north as they passed the buoy and aimed for the opposite shore. “You’re awfully jumpy, Larry,” she said. Larry looked over his shoulder and saw the running lights of a boat leaving the creek, then another and another. “We’re being pursued,” he said. “Make it wide open now.”

He took a small black box from his pocket, extended a six-inch antenna and pressed a button.

There was an explosion from behind them, and Gigi looked back in time to see a large fi reball rising. She moved the throttle all the way open. The boat leapt forward, its big outboard pushing the small hull. “What was that?” she yelled.

“Our rental car; a little something in the gas tank.” Larry looked back and watched the boats hesitate as they came out of the creek, no doubt debating which way to go. “Good thing our boat is black,” he said.

“I didn’t see anything at that marina that could outrun us,” Gigi said, peering through the darkness ahead, looking for other boats. They raced past the small house on the other side of the waterway, and Larry saw people standing on the dock. “This was a setup,” he said. “They were laying for us.”

“Then why is nobody shooting at us?” Gigi asked.

“Because they want us— me—alive,” Larry replied, looking at the chart in his hand. “There’s a flashing buoy where we turn left for Stuart. When we get there, stick with me; they’re not looking for a couple.”

Gigi got out her cell phone and pressed a speed-dial button.