CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
At nine a.m. there was a pounding at my door. Stumbling from the bed, I cracked the door open to see Mrs. T.
“I’ve got to come in and talk to you.”
“Let me get some pants on,” I said as I stood there in my boxer shorts. She spun around and walked away.
Closing the door, I turned and saw Em rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She yawned and looked at me inquisitively.
“Not good.”
“What’s not good?”
“I didn’t tell Mrs. Trueblood that you’re here.”
“Smooth move, Skip. Well, maybe you should go outside and explain the situation to the lady.”
I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a polo shirt.
“Go hide in the bathroom for a second.”
She frowned at me but got out of bed, wearing only my T-shirt, and walked into the bathroom.
Pulling open the door, I went out onto the walkway.
“What’s up?”
“The police. The sheriff’s department. It seems someone reported your truck with the black paint stain parked near the medical complex last night.”
That damned black paint.
“We found the Coral Belle. It’s not that easy to work during the day when your work involves digging up private property.”
She nodded. “Well, apparently the guy who owns a motel down there, The Ocean Air, called and registered a complaint that you guys trespassed on his property.”
“Wow. We got permission. From him. We really did.” The first time.
“Listen, I want this to succeed.” She leaned in, her warm breath on my face. “I want this to succeed more than you could possibly know. But you’ve got to be more careful. You’re called private investigators, in part I presume because you’re private. So far, it’s a wonder that everyone on this entire Key doesn’t know what’s going on.”
Her arms were folded across her chest and it was more than obvious that she didn’t seem to be happy with our performance so far.
“This may not be the best time to bring this up, but number one, Emily got an anonymous note back in Miami, saying that if James and I didn’t give up this project, we’d find ourselves dead.”
“Really?”
“You were included.”
She pursed her lips and looked out at the water.
“Second, Em is here. She came down to help. I know you said not to-”
Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Trueblood gave me a look like my mother did when she would call me Eugene.
“Look, we work better with her. She’s a good balance.”
“Was she with you last night?”
“Yes.”
The frown stayed on her face. “Do you have any more good news to share with me this morning?”
Now I was the one taking the deep breath. The warm breeze, the tanginess in the salty air, it all gave me a little more energy. I should have waited for James to make the announcement, but he’d probably never bring himself to do it.
“Our lives have been threatened.”
“I understand that.”
“So, James and I were talking and we think we’re worth a little more now. We have a little more value.”
“How so?” She cocked her head and I knew she wasn’t buying it.
“Well,”-it all sounded good when James had laid it out-“anything that is threatened with extinction is more valuable than it was before, you know?”
“And how much value do you think you have?” A stern tone in her voice. This was a lady not to be trifled with.
“We were thinking about two million.”
She stepped back.
“An anonymous letter gives you that much value?” She stood back, her head slightly turned, staring at me. “My goodness, just think if that letter had been signed.”
I didn’t laugh.
“Look, we both think that whoever killed the guy in our room thought it was James or me.”
“I’d considered that.”
“Mrs. Trueblood, we both also think there’s a real possibility that the gold might be here. In Islamorada. In today’s value it’s worth like forty-four million. We know that. If we’re the ones who find it, we think we’re worth one-twentieth.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Really?” I swallowed a mouthful of air and almost choked.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“Oh.”
“In the meantime, I expect you to keep working on the project. We do have an agreement, even though you’d like to change it.”
“We’ll keep working on it.”
“One thing you might consider is cleaning that black paint off your truck and changing the license plate.”
“The plate?”
“It’s a Miami plate. The cops, that motel owner at Ocean Air, and half of Islamorada now know that truck.”
She finally unfolded her arms, shook her head in disgust, and walked away.
I was disgusted as well. We should have figured that out ourselves. We were marked and too lazy to do anything about it.
Walking back into the room, I saw Em had already dressed. Some cute red shorts and a collared blouse.
“James called.”
“Yeah?”
“Said he and Amy were going to take some time getting to know each other this morning and he’d catch up with us this afternoon.”
I grabbed the phone, dialed his room, and he picked up on the third ring.
“James?”
“Amigo. Em tell you that I called?”
“She did. Get your ass down here right now. You’ve got sixty seconds, amigo.”
It was about time we started treating this like a business and not a vacation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We scrubbed. The streak of black paint spread maybe a foot across the door and with paint thinner, rags, and some steel wool the three of us worked on that stain. James stood back to comment on the effort more than we did, to admire our work. But, to be honest, he put in some serious time.
“Wax on, wax off. Breathe in through nose, out the mouth.”
Em gave him a scowl.
“The Karate Kid, nineteen eighty-four,” I said. “Not the lame newer version with Will Smith’s kid in it.”
“That was lame.”
“James,” Em stared at him. “Wax on. This is your truck, remember?”
He put some serious work into it.
Once we had the black scrubbed to a dull gray, James pulled out the can of spray paint we’d picked up at the Ace Hardware in town. They were getting used to seeing our faces. No more cracks about digging for buried treasure. Shovels, a flashlight, screwdriver, WD-40, and some spray paint.
“All right, everyone, stand back.”
He shook the can until the little steel ball was bouncing around inside, then aimed at the area and let go. The paint slowly covered the gray, running in tiny rivulets down the side.
“Get me a rag.”
I handed him one and he blended the rivers of white into the body.
There was light applause from above and we looked up to see Amy, with a smile on her face, clapping.
“Now do you have time to come up and keep me company?”
“You don’t.” I said it very firmly.
“Skip, there’s a time for-”
“I’ll drive back to Miami with Em, and you can sit here and deal with Mrs. T. and this entire fiasco by yourself.”
I was hoping he’d cave, because if she agreed to that two million this could be one really, really sweet deal.
James looked at Amy, then at Em, and never at me.
“Okay. What has to be done next?”
“We need new plates.”
He looked up at Amy again, dressed in a very brief bikini, or else colorful underwear. I had to admit, she looked very sexy. If it had been me-
“Can’t do it right now, Amy. I want to, but-” he spread his arms out as if overwhelmed by the entire situation.
I sincerely believe he was overwhelmed.
We found the truck behind a strip mall about two miles down the road. A white box truck very similar to ours. There are hundreds of them in the Keys. Delivery trucks, handyman trucks, plumbing trucks.
James kept a lookout on one side of the mall, Em on the other. They were both in my view, and I put the Ace Hardware screwdriver into the rear plate screw. It was frozen tight, so I sprayed some of the WD-40 onto the screw.