A False Dawn

THIRTY-THREE

The cell phone seemed to ring for eternity. It was as if an ambulance in the distance never passed. The phone stopped ringing and I opened my eyes, sunlight pouring in Jupiter’s salon like a roving spotlight in sync with the boat’s rise and fall of gentle wakes kicked up by boat traffic. I had a headache, but I felt better than when I’d arrived.

Earlier that morning, a little after nine, I’d made it back to Jupiter, poured myself a shot of brandy for breakfast, peeled off the wet clothes, and stretched out on the sofa in the salon. If I’d had dreams, I didn’t remember them. And I didn’t want to. I rubbed my temples and looked at my watch. It was almost four in the afternoon.

I stood and picked up the phone from the table where I’d left it next to the bottle of brandy. Checking the caller ID, I didn’t recognize the number. I played the messages back on speakerphone while I stepped into the galley and poured a glass of orange juice.

The first message was from Leslie Moore. “Sean, are you okay? Please call me as soon as you get this message.” The next two messages were from Leslie, too, essentially saying the same thing, but each time with more of an edge in her voice. It would have to wait. I needed a hot shower to cleanse dried sweat, dirt and human misery out of my pores.

A half hour later I checked the pencil camera between the books in the master salon. It was working flawlessly, the images beamed to my laptop on Dave’s boat. I would give Nick and Dave a lesson in video editing, should I need their help.

I fixed a turkey and hot mustard sandwich and took it topside. There were a few hours before sunset, and the first bottom fishing boat in the fleet churned slowly back into the marina. From the fly bridge, I could see tourists’ faces in various shades of sunburn.

I wanted to phone my neighbor to check on Max. I’d tell him I’d be home, but at that moment, I didn’t know for sure.

“Hey, you don’t invite me over for a beer. That’s a violation of marina manners,” I turned around to see Nick standing next to Jupiter’s cockpit with a beer in each fist. “So, I say to myself…self, you go on over to Sean’s boat and show him what neighborhood watch means.”

“Come on up.”

Nick grinned and climbed the steps, making sure he didn’t spill a drop of beer. He handed me a Corona and sat at the console. “Salute!” he said. After a long swallow, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sean, how long you been on your boat?”

“Just got out of bed. Slept for the last seven hours.”

“Sounds like you got some kinda jetlag. You been out of the country?”

“You could say that.”

“Better not be Greece!”

“No, it wasn’t the ancient cradle of democracy. More like the dungeons.”

“Yeah, where?”

“Not far from here. Felt like I’d spent a year in a third-world country. And I was there for just two days.” I told Nick the story while he sipped his beer and looked at me, shaking his head occasionally in disbelief.

“Where’s the girl’s shoe?”

“I gave it to Kim and she hid it in the tiki bar. Jupiter’s not safe anymore.”

“You gonna take the shoe to the police?”

“I have to deliver it to the right police.”

“Yeah, man. I haven’t seen onion head around.”

“That’s because he’s too busy rubbing shoulders with his wealthy constituents.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s on the take. Thinks he’s one of them. They use him like toilet paper.”

“That’s no good. What will happen if—”

My phone rang, cutting Nick off. He looked at the phone with as much suspicion as I felt. Got to love caller ID. It was Leslie. “Hi there,” I said.

“Where are you?”

“On the boat.”

“What happened in your investigation? Uncover anything?”

“I need some time to explain things to you. I don’t want to do it over the phone. I have some evidence for you to run tests on, and the sooner, the better.”

“Whatever you have, hide it.”

“Why?”

“Slater’s supposed to announce his bid for the sheriff’s job Wednesday. He’s looking for a splash. And you’re it. He’s on his way to find you. Slater has a search warrant. Sean, he’s coming to arrest you.”

“What’s Slater’s e-mail address?”

“Why?”

“He’s got mail and he doesn’t know it’s coming from me.”

I jotted his address down, said goodbye to Leslie, and turned to Nick. “I’m going to give you a quick lesson in editing video. We’ll go to Dave’s boat, to my laptop, I’ll give you both a lesson.”

“Cool, man.” His thick mustache lifted with his wide grin.