The King Tides

Chapter 12 Gel Head

The Cheesecake Factory on East Las Olas was popular with the lunchtime crowd, and there was a fifteen-minute wait to be seated. Lancaster slipped the hostess a folded twenty-dollar bill and said, “I need a secluded table in your restaurant, please.”

The hostess hesitated. “Define secluded.”

“In a corner, backed up to a wall.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

The waiting area was next to the hostess stand. Nicki sat on a bench with her parents to either side and Lancaster standing guard in front of her, facing the entrance. No one was going to get close to her without first going through him.

The hostess appeared holding menus. “You’re in luck. Right this way.”

The Pearls rose from the bench and followed the hostess. Lancaster came up from behind, looking for any sign of trouble. The restaurant was packed, the tables positioned so closely together that it reminded him of a mess hall. Their destination was a corner table across from the noisy bar that ran the length of the wall. When everyone was seated, the hostess passed out the menus and said a waitress would be over shortly.

So far, everything looked normal. But he was not going to let his guard down. While the Pearls read their menus, he studied the other diners. Two groups of people made up the lunch crowd. Families and business people. He didn’t spot any suspicious-acting males — the profile of Nicki’s stalkers.

A waitress appeared. The echo coming off the tile floors made normal conversation impossible, and the Pearls shouted their orders.

“Coffee,” he said when his turn came.

Water and bread were brought to the table. Nicki chose a sesame roll and tore it into small pieces before buttering it. She hadn’t uttered a word since the art gallery and acted withdrawn. Her parents tried to engage her in conversation and got nowhere.

“Am I ever going to be able to go back to school?” she asked. The question caught her parents off guard. To Lancaster she said, “Am I?”

Nicki was looking into the future and not liking what she saw. Projecting was never healthy, and he tried to allay her fears.

“I don’t see why not,” he said.

“When?” she asked.

“As soon as I get to the bottom of this.”

“But what if you don’t figure out what these men want? What then? Do I have to go into hiding like someone in witness protection? I want my life back.”

Helping people in distress was like taking a trip, and it always took time. He tried to find an answer that would calm her down, but came up short. There was no answer that wasn’t an exaggeration or outright lie, and he wasn’t in the habit of telling those.

“I’ll figure out what these men want. That’s a promise,” he said.

“Oh no,” Melanie said under her breath. “I just spotted a creep at the bar watching Nicki in the mirror. He won’t take his eyes off her. What should we do?”

If Nicki’s stalkers shared a common trait, it was a deep fear of being caught, and they were quick to run the moment they sniffed trouble.

“Stop staring at him,” he said. “I don’t want you to scare him off.”

“Whatever you say.”

He glanced at the bar. The creep sat on a stool with his back to them. He wore a dress shirt and blue neck tie, nice slacks, and a pair of expensive shoes. He had a weight lifter’s broad shoulders and tiny waist, and his short blond hair was slicked back with gel. He alternated watching Nicki in the backbar mirror and looking at his cell phone. A plate of untouched pasta alfredo sat in front of him. Gel Head had lost his appetite.

Nicki kicked him beneath the table. “I’m scared.”

“To be forewarned is to be forearmed,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re going to protect you.” To Melanie, he said, “You said before that you have a can of Mace. Please pull it out of your purse and pass it to your daughter beneath the table.”

Melanie passed her Mace to Nicki.

“If he gets near you, spray him in the face,” Lancaster said.

“Got it,” Nicki said.

He addressed her parents. “Has either of you ever fired a handgun before?”

“I have,” Pearl said.

“I’m going to pass you one of my handguns beneath the table. I want you to stick it in your pocket. It’s loaded and doesn’t have a safety, so you need to be careful.”

Pearl’s face lost its color. “What exactly are you planning to do?”

“I’m going outside the restaurant. Once I’m gone, I want you and your wife to put the fear of God into this sicko. Hopefully he’ll run out the door, which will give me the opportunity to confront him. Sound good?”

Some men caved in the face of uncertainty and danger, while others rose to the challenge. Pearl squared his shoulders. “I’m good if Melanie and Nicki are,” he said.

“I’m good,” his wife said. “How about you, honey?”

Nicki held the canister of Mace in her lap. Making her part of the attack plan let her stop feeling like a victim, and she no longer seemed scared.

“Let’s get him,” she said.

Lancaster laid out his plan of attack and explained each of their roles. There were no questions, and he rose from the table and placed his napkin on his spot.

“Is Team Pearl ready?” he asked.

They said yes. He slid away from the table and headed toward the lavatories on the other side of the dining room. His journey took him past Gel Head, who still hadn’t touched his food. A cell phone lay on the bar playing a video. As he passed, Gel Head flipped the cell phone facedown, hiding the screen.

There was no stronger instinct than survival. Nicki’s stalkers’ attraction to their prey was only surpassed by their desire not to get caught. He turned a corner and came to the restrooms. He waited for a customer to come out, and used him as a shield to walk to the front of the restaurant. Reaching the hostess stand, he spun around. Gel Head was still at the bar, his eyes focused on Nicki in the mirror.

The Pearls were watching him. He made the “okay” sign with his fingers.

Melanie and her husband rose from their chairs. Nolan moved in front of the table, creating a shield in front of Nicki. His hand was in his pocket, touching the handle of the gun. He looked ready for trouble.

Melanie brushed past him and came up behind Gel Head. She forcefully tapped his shoulder, and Gel Head turned to stone and stared at the reflection in the mirror. Melanie tore into him, her voice angry enough to cut through the other diners’ conversations.

“You sick bastard! You’ve been staring at my daughter for the last ten minutes. Don’t pretend we didn’t see you!”

Gel Head picked up his cell phone and made it disappear into his pocket. He threw money on the bar for his food and hopped off his stool.

“Running away, are you? You coward!”

Gel Head had been confronted before and knew the drill. Walk away and don’t say a word. Feeling empowered, Melanie wagged a finger in his face. “My husband took a photo of you on his cell phone. We’re going to show it to the police, and file a complaint.”

Conversation in the restaurant had stopped. Every diner was watching the scene unfold. Gel Head turned his back and headed for the exit. Melanie kept the barbs coming. “You’re a pervert! She’s only fifteen years old.”

Gel Head picked up his pace, desperate to get away.

“Did you hear what I said? She’s fifteen years old!”

Lancaster went outside to wait on the sidewalk. Melanie’s threats were nothing more than an angry mother venting. Gel Head hadn’t done anything that warranted the police arresting him, and Lancaster needed to be careful in how he handled this.

Gel Head exited the restaurant. Lancaster tried to block his path, and their bodies collided. Gel Head was rock solid, and Lancaster fell backward into the gutter. So much for the nice guy approach. He jumped to his feet and gave chase.

“Wait! I need to talk to you!”

Gel Head was running hard. Reaching the public lot on the south side of Las Olas, he jumped into a black Lexus and was backing out when Lancaster caught up.

“I just want to talk!”

The Lexus nearly ran him over. It was an LC 500, which ran a hundred grand with all the bells and whistles. He memorized the license plate and hobbled back to the restaurant. He called Devon at DMV and caught his friend at his desk, eating lunch.

“Hey, Jon, what’s shaking?” Devon asked.

“Any luck on the license plate I sent you?”

“It belonged to a dead guy.”

“Crap. I need you to check another plate for me. Same terms as before.”

“I’m game. Fire away.”

He recited the Lexus’s license plate to Devon. His phone vibrated, and he checked the screen. Pearl was calling to check up on him. He switched calls and said, “Eat your lunch, I’ll be right in. Tell your wife she’s a star.” He hung up and resumed speaking to Devon. “Any hits?”

“You’re in luck this time,” Devon said. “The car is registered to a dude named Zack Kenny from Lauderdale. I’ve got his address, date of birth, and social security number, in case you’re interested.”

“Lay it on me,” he said.