“What?” I whispered.
“Doesn’t sound human,” James remained kneeling, staring through the break in the hedge and trees.
Again I could hear it. Like a little baby just starting to cry.
There was a rattling of metal and I put the glasses to my eyes, scanning what I could see of the vacant lot.
“Over there.” James was pointing to the northeast corner of the fencing. The same place we’d climbed over yesterday and landed almost in the lap of Dr. James O’Neill and his sidekick.
I looked and saw the gate opening. It could have used a little WD-40 as it squeaked and groaned, the hinges rubbing metal on metal.
“There are the whiners.”
Sure enough, two dark dogs-I would have guessed Dobermans-came parading through the entrance. Short ears and a stub for a tail, they whined, straining at the leashes that one man held in his hand. I was pretty sure it was the guy that James laid out when he hit him with the palm of his hand.
“What if they-”
“They won’t, Skip. Anyone could walk this street or sidewalk. They can’t just attack everyone.”
I just prayed that those two dogs didn’t have a good memory of our smell from two nights before.
As I reflected on that spirited evening, I saw the pinpoint of light maybe half a mile out on the water. It got bigger by the second, and I was sure it was the boat.
Em strained to see it without the glasses. She kneeled down beside me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Want to share?”
What the heck, she’d let me drive the Porsche.
“It’s a big boat, maybe bigger than the other night,” I said.
The boat slowed, and I could hear the twin props kicking in to slow the vessel. The captain had probably thrown her into reverse. The vessel was now almost coasting to the dock. The man with the dogs tied the leashes to a post, then threw a rope to someone aboard.
And the cast of characters got larger as Em handed me the glasses. I observed another person walking in from the Ocean Air gate. Magnified and in the light of the boat, I could make out his stiff appearance, and what appeared to be salt-and-pepper hair, a beard, and mustache.
“Can’t prove it, but I think it’s Dr. Malhotra.”
“Guy who shares the building with O’Neill?” James peered into the darkness.
“The same.”
“The plot thickens, grasshopper.”
I just nodded, not understanding any of it.
“So those two guys are partners in whatever venture this is.” James spoke softly, still watching through his new binoculars.
“It would seem.”
The boat’s light went out, plunging the property into darkness. Now a flashlight played on the deck as passengers disembarked. As before, they had suitcases and this time I noticed there seemed to be a mix of women, men, and even some children. All of them carried luggage.
“This is not a fishing boat. You don’t take kids on a boat for tournament fishing.” I was sure of it.
Em tapped me on the shoulder again. Whispering, she said, “But, you could use the timing of the tournament boats coming back to blend in.” She paused for a moment. “Lots of boats all coming to shore at three thirty. What a perfect cover, Skip, don’t you think?”
“So no one would be suspicious of a boat landing at this hour of the morning?” It made sense.
She nodded.
But why would they want to keep it a secret? Smugglers? Something in the suitcases. Gold?
“Drugs.” James said it with conviction. “They’re bringing illegal drugs in. Perfect. Two doctors are importing illegal narcotics.”
“Doesn’t sound right, James.”
“I’d bet on it, Skip.”
And then we heard someone yell, and it echoed off the water.
“Mas rapido.”
And then another voice. “El barco esta saliendo.”
There was a semi loud “Hush. Silencio.”
Then, all you could hear were feet on the deck, on the dock, and we watched as the passengers disappeared into the trees.
James stood up as the engines reversed and the boat backed out to sea.
“I would bet you that someone rakes the sand over there.”
“And I would bet that the cleaning service will have tomorrow off. Then they’ll have to come in the next day and clean all of those rooms from these late check-ins.” I remembered the conversation with our desk clerk at the Cove.
“Damn. There’s something there we weren’t supposed to see. And maybe somebody tried to shoot us today because we did see it.” James stretched and we started walking the half mile back to the van.
“Something in those suitcases.”
We walked back in silence, each of us rerunning the scene we’d witnessed. Something worth holding us and threatening us with a gun.
A night bird’s shrill call startled us.
“What were they saying back there?” James got into the truck and Em and I climbed into the passenger side.
“Obviously it was Spanish.”
“I hate to say it, Skip, but I think James may be right. They could be smuggling drugs. Using kids, men, women-”
“Anybody remember high school Spanish?” I asked as James turned the key.
And turned the key. And turned the key.
“Guys, I think our battery just died.”
CHAPTER FORTY
It turned out that Em had AAA coverage. They’d come, tow the truck, and drive us back to the Cove. So she called them on her iPhone. It also turned out that we had to wait two hours, so we walked. That only took about an hour and fifteen minutes.
We crashed for three hours and then the phone rang. I was groggy, tired, and sore and not in the mood to talk to James or whoever was making a conscious effort to bother me.
“’Lo.”
“Skip, it’s Maria Sanko.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I want to apologize for the way I acted the other night. The other morning. You probably had a right to accuse me of-”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I actually appreciate the fact that you came out to see how we were doing. Looking out for us.”
“I was out there because if you found gold, I wanted some.”
I wanted to believe she actually cared about us, but then I remembered that we’d lied to her the entire time we’d known her.
“So, what do you want now?”
“First of all, did you find anything?”
I was quiet for a moment. Lying to Maria was becoming a habit. I hated to do it, but-
“No. We were chased by dogs the first night and the second time we went, well, you were there. You saw what happened.”
“Yeah. What was that all about? I didn’t tell anyone you were going to be there. I hope you’ll believe me.”
“Do you know those guys? O’Neill and the motel manager?”
“I know who they are. And I’ve pitched Dr. O’Neill some property recently. There’s an old motel down where Zane Grey’s fishing camp used to be, south of here. It’s in foreclosure, and I was trying to interest him in buying it. Maybe fix it up, give it the Zane Grey western theme and, you know.”
I didn’t. Zane Grey had been a western novelist, and I knew he’d frequented the Keys, but that was about it.
“So, Maria, you know him, this O’Neill?”
“He called me yesterday.”
“Wants to buy your motel?”
“No. That’s still for sale.”
“What did he want?”
“He knew I was the one on the Harley. He wanted me to give you a message. He said he wants you to stay off his property, stay away from the medical building, don’t go near the vacant lot, and, oh, he wants his gun back.”
“Well, you delivered the message. Now, I’ve got to get back to sleep. It was a late night.” Lots of messages being delivered.
“He was pissed, Skip. And he’s usually a very nice man.”
He certainly hadn’t shown that trait to me.
“I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks, Maria.”
“Skip. If there’s anything else I can do-”