 
### Gun Crazy

Jim Nash Collection #1

By P X Duke

Copyright 2014 P X Duke

ISBN 978-1-928161-17-2

_This first Jim Nash collection includes three short stories: Pirate Cay, Thrill Kill Jill, and Greetings from Key West._

Disclaimer

What follows is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Places mentioned by name are entirely fictitious and purely products of the author's imagination, and are not meant to bear resemblance to actual places or locations.

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Gun Crazy

Contents

Pirate Cay

_Jim Nash is headed for a long-awaited vacation in the Florida Keys when he checks his messages and discovers that an old flame needs his help. After a brief consult with the new woman in his life, Jim heads west to Panama Cay where he becomes embroiled in the rough seas and rocky shores of drugs, guns and money._

Thrill Kill Jill

_Retired detective Jim Nash is headed for a much-needed vacation with the two favorite women in his life. When he pulls off the highway into a rest stop, his girlfriend disappears without leaving a trace. Left to his own devices when the local PD refuses to let him file a missing person report, Nash pulls out all the stops in his attempt to find the missing woman all by himself._

Greetings from Key West

_Allie manages to talk Jim into a vacation in the Keys, where trouble finds them once again when they cross paths with a woman and her little girl being harassed by the locals. It's not long before Zelda's tracking abilities are called upon to restore things as they should be._

More by P X Duke

About the author

Pirate Cay

_Jim Nash is headed for a long-awaited vacation in the Florida Keys when he checks his texts and discovers that an old flame needs his help. After a brief consult with the new woman in his life, Jim heads west to Panama Crossing where he becomes embroiled in the rough seas and rocky shores of drugs, guns and money. First Jim Nash Adventure._

**I FINISHED PACKING** and went looking for Zelda. Usually when I was done with filling a suitcase she'd be in the kitchen, sulking. She must have known something different was up, because this time, I found her sulking by the door.

She knew we were going somewhere together. The instant she saw me, her ears perked up and her tail started to thump the floor like crazy. Smart dog that she was, she read the clues and knew there would be no kennel in her life this time.

To keep her happy on our road trip, I grabbed the bag of food from under the counter. For good measure, I added the water dish. I picked up my bag and together we walked down the stairs to the car.

Zelda never actually called shotgun, but I knew she'd want to ride up front. I opened the door and she jumped in and squatted like she belonged. Which she did. We both knew that. I slammed my door and Zelda barked once like she was the boss and wanted me to hurry up.

Women.

For a change, I checked texts on my own phone and discovered more than a couple from Allie. We'd had a fling about year-and-a-half ago. When the fling ended, we stayed on good terms-don't ask me how-and every once in a while we'd end up consoling one another for whatever reason.

Well, okay, so we stayed on good terms until she got caught up in one of my murder cases. It was probably my fault more than hers for letting that happen. Following her arrest and release without charges, she blew town for parts unknown, and I thought I'd never hear from her again.

Thus my surprise at the stack of waiting texts. Maybe I should turn on my phone more often-especially if it meant I'd get to pick up Allie's messages.

Strike that never-hear-from-her-again discussion.

My phone died just as I was about to call to find out what was going on. I couldn't find a charge cord within easy reach, and Zelda was no help. I'd have to stop later to water and exercise Zelda. I'd find the spare cord in my bag when I did.

Originally, I planned on heading down the Keys with Zelda on a well-deserved vacation. I wanted to escape former job pressures that I was no longer subject to since handing in my resignation the day before.

Instead, I changed plans mid-stream. You couldn't say I was inflexible.

Unable to talk to Allie on a dead phone, Key West would have to wait. I knew it wasn't in any danger of disappearing. I turned west in the direction of Panama Crossing and Allie. If she needed my help, there was no way I could say no. What she wouldn't-or couldn't-tell me in a text, I hoped she'd be able to tell me in person.

I stopped to let Zelda out for her run and found the charge cord. I called to let Allie know to expect two for dinner. She sounded disappointed, to say the least.

I didn't bother checking with Zelda to ask if it was all right if she wouldn't be seeing the sights in Key West.

I figured she'd never notice the difference.

**The tires rattled** on the gravel driveway announcing my arrival in the marina's parking lot. The place was huge. Fresh paint dressed up what was already a good-looking private marina. A flag snapped in the stiff wind forcing the rope to slap against the steel pole. The smell of salt water and the gulf was strong.

Allie met me in the driveway with a puzzled look and three sweaty Sols to take the edge off.

—Where's your passenger?

—Zelda? She's sleeping in the back.

She gave me a look that said she wanted to bury me in an empty lot.

—Will I get to meet her, or are you going to leave her there?

She returned my shit-eating grin with a scowl, and I knew I'd better introduce the two of them sooner rather than later. I opened the back door and Zelda sprung up from her doggie dreams and hustled out on all fours.

—Zelda, this is Allie. Make nice and maybe she'll let you have some of that beer.

Zelda's cold wet nose snuffled its way from Allie's ankles all the way up to her crotch. By the time she worked her nose back down to where she started, Zelda's tail was wagging and they both looked kind of happy.

The dog plopped down at Allie's feet and looked from me to her and back. Allie reached for Zelda's ear and began scratching and I already knew the best part of my job was done.

All I had left to do was find out what was going on.

—Your messages didn't say much. How about filling me in on the dirty details?

—Let's go in. Chinese is on the way.

Zelda attached herself to Allie, kind of like I attached myself to the woman back in the old days. I wasn't dumb enough to think that there'd be much left between us after I got her arrested for harboring a fugitive. That fugitive was me. She blew town without a word, pretty much guaranteeing that she was pissed at me.

I couldn't blame her.

—I'm sorry about what happened-

—I know, Jim. It wasn't all your fault. As an employee in the coroner's office, I should have known enough not to get involved.

—And as a cop, I should have known better than to expect you to give me a place to stay, even though you did.

With the apologizing out of the way, it was time to get down to what interrupted the Key West vaycay Zelda and I were planning.

—Until I listened to your messages, I thought you were gone forever.

—So did I, but I'm glad you're here. My brother, Hank, is in the charter business. He rents and crews boats to anyone that can afford one. A lot of the business happens in the winter with the snowbirds.

—So this is where you disappeared to. It sounds like nice work if you can get it.

—It is, minus the cheats, liars and assorted assholes that don't pay their bills.

She rubbed her eyes, as if to block out everything around her.

—I'd say that's pretty standard for someone in business.

Allie crossed her arms.

—It is. But that's not the problem. I'm convinced that at least one, and maybe more, of his captains are running a side business.

In our other lives, Allie and I ended up crossing paths at some of the crime scenes we worked. For whatever reason, we decided we might like spending time together outside of work. She mentioned her brother and how he was all she had after her folks had been killed in a car accident. Her brother took over the family business. Allie chose to stay on as one of the city's coroners.

—If the employees are doing something illegal, the entire business could end up being forfeited as proceeds of crime. His home, too. Everything.

It became obvious why Allie messaged me. There was a problem with that, though. I knew absolutely nothing about boats. Hell, I couldn't even swim. I figured I'd let her keep talking until she made plain what she wanted.

—I never told my brother about you. I've been on the down-low since getting here. None of the crews know he has a sister.

I got it. Finally.

—He's looking for crew, isn't he?

—Yes. I told him I'd help him out. I didn't tell him anything about you.

—And?

—I think some of the regulars have been scaring off anyone reliable so they can get more of their own hired on. Hank is desperate for people he can trust. I'm going to sign on as crew. You're going to go down to the dock tomorrow and talk him into signing you.

Over the Chinese food we both liked, Allie briefed me on her brother's operation and filled me in on the particulars. It wasn't small potatoes. It was high-class. He owned almost a dozen hulls, anywhere from fifty to a hundred feet. A couple of them were cigarettes, capable of high speed ocean navigation. Or of running people.

And maybe even drugs.

It would be easy to head out into the gulf, meet up with a tramp steamer or a mini-sub and load up with whatever they were carrying. No customs to clear. Nothing but found money.

I didn't let on about that.

**I hooked up** with a dog-friendly motel and checked in with Zelda. In the morning I put her in a kennel and tried to explain that it wouldn't be forever. She didn't believe me, so I put out water and a bowl of food to assuage my guilt. It didn't halt the whining.

It had the exact opposite effect. It pretty much assured her that it would be forever.

I made my way to the marina in the quiet, early morning air. The flag drooped over the pole. The smell was good, though. No dead fish odor to spoil the effect.

The office door was open. I walked in and introduced myself to Hank, Allie's brother. He was tall and lanky and tanned from his years spent on the gulf with the charter business. I hadn't thought a resumé would be worth much in his line of work. Besides, I was out of my league, but for Allie's sake I couldn't turn down her call for help.

Even if I didn't know how to swim.

After a couple of questions and a little back and forth, I managed to convince Hank I didn't know squat about boats. Maybe he bought my story about wanting a little saltwater adventure in my otherwise dull life. Or maybe he was just desperate enough to give me a chance.

Hank teamed me up with Allie and the two of us went in search of the rest of the crew. We found them gathered at the end of the wharf, in deep conversation. It ended abruptly and silence overtook as we approached. Eyes shifted nervously as we drew closer.

We shared a glance to confirm our suspicions, and then we were on them. Allie introduced me to what looked like some of the toughest, scruffiest-looking old salts on the coast. They might be known for instilling confidence and respect in the outfit's clients, but a couple of the rag-tags looked to be pretty shady. Knives, wristbands and even an eye patch appeared to be the order of the day.

Minus hooks or peg-legs, I wondered how the man with the patch lost his eye.

Two of the men caught my attention right off. Neither Steve nor Dell would look at me straight up. Cop that I was-okay, ex-cop-I took it as a sign. I hadn't been away from the job long enough to have forgotten everything I learned working the streets.

As the newbie, I got my first job. I grabbed the bucket and the brush and began scrubbing down the dock. It didn't take a lot of brain cells to push a scrub brush on a stick. I tackled it with my usual devil-may-care attitude and used the down time to study the rest of the crew.

It appeared as though Dell and Steve were thick as thieves. Heads bowed, they shared their secrets in barely audible tones. Try as I might, I couldn't make out the back and forth mumbling. I figured it would be those two who would end up being the troublemakers.

If I turned out to be wrong, so be it. There were plenty of other employees to take their places, even if they didn't appear to be capable of doing whatever it was they were doing to the company.

—Where did Allie get to?

—She shipped out with the boys on one of the pontoon boats.

—Did we get a charter?

—No, I think it's a test run of some sort.

Strange. No one mentioned it earlier.

Rain or shine, as a cop nothing ever changed but whether I'd get wet or sunburned. That's why I never paid attention to the weather, and that's why I never paid attention to the storm blowing in off the Gulf.

If it hit, I'd get wet. If it didn't, I'd stay dry.

I didn't give a thought as to what might happen to a pontoon boat. It was a boat. It floated. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

**THE DUO STRIDING** towards my end of the pier sporting wrinkled suit jackets didn't look like they belonged. Their ugly demeanor and dark hair pretty much disqualified them as retired bluehairs. The bulges under their arms said they were maybe tired cops. Or worse.

No matter. I hadn't been out of the city long enough to ignore them.

—Can I help you?

—Where's Hank?

—He's not here yet. Anything I can do?

Eyes rolled and they looked at me like I was nuts before they shuffled off in the direction of the office. When the door closed, the yelling started. I dropped back into deckhand mode and went back to worrying if Allie would make it back before the storm blew in.

I wanted to move into a position that would allow me to eavesdrop, but Steve and Dell were back to mumbling. I sidestepped closer, trying to catch the gist of their conversation. Rather than wait for me to get there, they approached me.

—We've got a proposal for you.

Oh-oh. Here we go.

—Then let's talk.

They led me to the end of the wharf. On the way I wondered what the two of them would come up with. By the time I got there, the look of the sky and the howling wind diverted my thoughts once again to Allie and the pontoon boat she shipped out on.

I didn't know squat about water, but the gulf was a big body of it. It was big enough to make its own weather, and that was what it looked like it was doing. For now, the onshore sky was clear and blue. In the direction Allie headed off to, the ceiling was low and almost black, and the clouds were headed shoreward.

**I listened as** Steve and Dell began spinning their tale of woe. When they finished, I had all the information I needed to begin a real investigation. Hell, they did such a good job of it, I hardly had any questions-except for one.

—Who are you working for?

—We can't tell you that. We know who Allie is, though. And we think you're the ex-cop she used to go out with back east.

—Okay then. You're DEA or Immigration or both. Maybe with ATF thrown in for good measure, although I already know one can't represent the other.

—You might be right, but you're not going to find out from us.

—If you're local, you probably knew about or grew up with Hank. That means you know him personally. Is he the kind of guy to get mixed up in whatever it is brought you two here?

—We don't think so. We think someone is holding something over him.

—I agree. That's pretty much the way Allie told it, too.

By now I was damned sure they knew more than they were letting on. My impatience was growing. Concern about Allie out in the pontoon boat in the growing storm didn't help matters.

—So now what, gentlemen?

Black cloud dropped low and got even darker, if that was possible. The accompanying wind unleashed a driving rain. Hulls strained against moorings and rocked back and forth, banging hard against fenders. Ignorant as I was about ocean storms, this one looked like it would get pretty intense, even to me.

I worried about Allie in the pontoon boat. Like I needed another woman in my life disappearing, whether it was my fault or not. With the wind picking up, I was concerned for her safety on the water in a floating cork of a boat that would make a pretty good sail.

—When this storm blows over we're going looking for the pontoon boat. If it's out in the middle of this blow, there's no telling where it could end up.

In a matter of minutes, the wind turned to vicious. I put my back to it and worked my way off the dock onto shore, rocking and rolling all the way. Once inside the shelter of the boathouse, hail and anything that wasn't tied down slapped against the tin roof and sides. Almost as quick as it blew in, the squall moved inland and dissipated.

—I'll go tell Hank where we're going. Jim, you and Dell get the engine warmed up.

Shit. Now Dell would find out for sure I knew squat about boats.

—How much experience do you have?

I couldn't fault him for asking. Better to admit it than to be thought the fool.

—None.

—I figured. Okay, first things first. Where's the wind?

—It's blowing the boat against the pier.

—Yes it is. If it was blowing the other way, it would be a lot simpler. The wind would end up blowing the boat clear of the dock.

—So what do we do?

—First, you'll cast off all the lines but the one attaching the bow. When you've done that, watch and listen to what Steve does with the after bow spring line. He'll show you where to stow everything after we get under way.

—I have no idea what you're talking about.

—You'll learn or drown.

—I hope not.

—Once we're underway, you can pull the fenders in.

My job was to watch and learn, so that's what I did. With the bow attached by means of the after bow spring, Dell used the rudder and the engine to swing the stern away from the dock. Steve cast off the spring line, and we reversed away from the dock.

Piece of cake when someone else was doing it.

**The storm might** have blown itself out, but I was still anxious about Allie. Maybe I should have felt the same way about the rest of them on the pontoon, too. I didn't, particularly after Steve filled me in on the experience level of the boat's crew. Old salts, all of them.

—How are we going to find them?

—There's only a handful of places they could put in. Dell is going to stand watch with the binoculars.

—Do you still think Allie is a part of whatever Hank is involved in?

I had to ask again.

—No. She has nothing to do with any of it. Her brother might be another matter.

That was a relief, although I wouldn't have expected anything else. I knew her to be a straight arrow. I also knew she hadn't been so sure about her brother.

Dell scoured the shoreline with the glasses, searching for the pontoon. A couple of false alarms and his arm moved up and down once more. Steve pointed the boat towards shore for the third time.

Whoever beached left the stern sticking far out into the river. The engine idled. Our boat couldn't get in close. I jumped ship and waded through the shallows. I scrambled aboard. Muffled cries greeted me. Allie lay sprawled on the deck, hands and ankles bound.

I undid the gag and she couldn't stop talking.

—Those sons of bitches. If I ever get my hands on them-

—Slow down. Are they still here?

—No. They met another boat. They left me tied up and pointed it towards shore. Whatever they had in bags-drugs or cash or both-disappeared with them.

So it was drugs after all. I figured it to be as much in this part of the world. Out of the way, yet not entirely isolated, it was a perfect place for pretending to enjoy a little boating pastime while doing some smuggling.

—They know about you, Jim. They know you're a cop. One of them recognized you as the one who sent him up.

So much for the anonymity I hoped for.

—Too bad I can't remember them all or I'd have seen it coming. I'll check names on Hank's roster. If I have any friends on the local PD it shouldn't take long to get answers.

Allie paced back and forth, still angry with herself for getting fooled.

—I should have known, dammit. I should have known.

—Stop beating yourself up. There's no way you could have.

She held that thought and it seemed to slow her down.

—Guys, I think there might be some Sol left in the cooler if the bastards didn't steal that, too. It's going to be a long haul to get this slow boat back to port.

She had me with the Sol. The guys didn't say no either, even if company rules said they shouldn't. Before we popped the tops we affixed a tow line to the pontoon boat and tugged it free.

—Come on, landlubber. You're riding with me on the pontoon. We have some talking to do if you're going to be working here.

I looked at Dell and Steve. Their heads shook in unison with hang-dog looks. I knew from experience that there was more going on than I could fathom.

My new-found career as a wharf rat was turning out to be vastly different from the one I had known as a police detective.

**Allie eased the** pontoon against the dock exactly at midnight. We tied up beneath a curtain of bright, star-filled sky. Thanks to the sunshine, fresh air and the warm tropical breeze that replaced the cold rain that fell earlier in the day, I could barely keep my eyes open.

The belly full of Sol didn't help. All I wanted to do was head back to the no-tell motel and crash.

—You might as well collect your gear and move into my place. The cat is out of the bag by the look of it.

—Are you sure? My record with women hasn't been all that great since you left town.

—I heard, and from what I remember, it wasn't all that great before I left, either, landlubber.

I couldn't deny it.

—You got me there.

—What did you do with Zelda?

—I put her in a kennel for safekeeping since I didn't know what I'd be walking into.

—Do you treat all your women like that?

—Only the ones I love.

—We'll just have to see about that.

We sat in silence at the very end of the pier away from the lights. Exhausted, we dangled our feet in the water. It might not be magic, but it was a good substitute after the day we just spent retrieving the beached pontoon.

Allie had only just put her head on my shoulder when the sound of gunfire brought us to our senses. I caught a muzzle flash out of the corner of my eye and zeroed in on something I hoped wasn't meant for us. The water around us started to splash and I knew that not to be the case.

—Shit. It's tough wearing an ankle piece in shorts. My regular is tucked away in the car.

I grabbed Allie's hand and pulled her in the direction of shore towards cover. I shoved her behind a stack of pallets.

—Stay here and keep down.

The muzzle flashes were coming from farther down the swampy shoreline. In the inky blackness it was difficult to tell exactly where. We must have made for easy targets beneath the dock lights. I thought maybe the shooter was only trying to scare us.

If that was the case, it worked.

I sprinted in the direction of the dark parking lot and popped the trunk. I grabbed my automatic and the two large-capacity mags and slammed it closed. I steered the car through the obstacle course to get to Allie. I tried swapping out the shorty clip, but that didn't make the dodging any easier.

I reached Allie, jammed the gearshift into park and waited while she dove into the back seat. Another bright muzzle-flash let me locate the source of the gunfire. I dialed in full auto, stuck the muzzle out the window, and unleashed the thirty-three round clip in its general direction.

As it always had in the past, silence ensued.

Mission accomplished, even though I knew I didn't hit anything that mattered.

—Let's see if we can pick up Zelda. Then we can head over to your place.

—We're already at my place.

—No, I mean where you live.

—This is it, buster.

—In that case, Zelda will have to wait until tomorrow. What's company policy on pets?

—You'll have to deal with the owner on that one, but I'd say it's looking to be pretty lenient as long as Zelda is the only other woman in your life.

—She's the only one left alive from my recent past.

Even in the dark I could sense Allie's hesitation in making a decision she might later regret. Then she said it.

—For now, that will have to do.

**The shower felt** good after spending the better part of the day in the salt air. Good woman that she was, by the time I finished washing past sins down the drain, Allie had sandwiches waiting.

I tried not to talk with my mouth full.

—So far, you've got two ex-employees who made a delivery of cash or drugs on one of your boats. With you on board. Any idea why you had to be there?

—I don't think they were expecting me. I jumped on the pontoon at the last minute.

—Are you sure your brother isn't involved in any of this? Is the business solvent?

—Yes, as far as I know. But now that you asked, I'll go and do some basic accounting. I'll be back in a bit. You'll have to find the bedroom on your own for now.

The for now sounded promising.

My pleasure at the thought of for now ended abruptly when the dream I was having ended. Allie was sitting on the edge of the bed and she didn't look happy. Perhaps it was her puzzled look.

—So, what's the deal?

—I took a quick look. It appears as though Hank owes money.

—How much?

—He's making good cash on the boat charters. He's even making it on the dive charters.

—How much?

—I couldn't tell for sure. It looks like it started about three weeks before I got here.

—How much?

—You're just like a dog with a bone. It must be the ex-cop in you. About fifty thousand.

At last.

—That's not so bad. If he's making money, he should be able to modify his payments with the bank.

—You're right, he should be able to. One problem, though.

—Don't tell me. He doesn't owe any banks.

—Pretty much.

—If the money he's making is good, why would he have borrowed the cash from people like that?

—I have no idea, Jim, but first thing tomorrow, I'll be asking him.

Sleep didn't come easy, even under the air conditioning. Even with Allie's cool body beside me. I kept trying to put it all together long after her even breathing told me she was fast asleep.

So far, there were two people who said they were feds, both on the company payroll. Maybe they weren't feds. Maybe they were there to keep an eye on Hank's payback program. I wanted to ask Allie if she knew anything about Steve and Dell.

Instead, I let her sleep.

Two former employees had buggered off with a boat and a shitload of cash or drugs or both. I wanted to know more. I eased out of bed, dressed, and headed down to the pontoon boat for a closer look.

The batteries in the flashlight were dead by the time I finished the cursory search. That wasn't a major problem, though. The sun coming over the horizon gave me more light than I needed to make a more thorough job of it.

* * *

**IT WAS THE** smell of Allie's waiting coffee that roused me out of bed. I was hoping for something more substantial. I opened the fridge door. Pickings looked to be slim to none. Allie had a plan, though. She always did.

—There's a little cafe down the road. I'll treat you to breakfast for your troubles.

—Zelda and I are on the lookout for a cook. After the impromptu feast you did up last night, I figured we were home-free. Now you tell us you're not cooking.

—I need to get away from this place after what happened yesterday. We'll pick up Zelda and groceries on the way back.

We ended up in a booth at an old-style diner covered by stainless steel on the outside and the 1950s on the inside. Like most diners, the staple was mostly good food and a waitress with an affinity for local gossip, dished out by the older woman who appeared to have worked there forever.

We killed time with small talk until the food arrived and we could converse without interruption.

—Tell me what you know about Dell and Steve.

—Not much. Hank says they've been around for a while. They know the business. They have a nautical background and they're certified divers.

That's all she got out before the explosion boomed and thundered inside the diner's tin walls. I grabbed Allie's hand and pulled her out the door and down the steps. The cloud of black smoke blossomed skyward from where we had been only minutes before.

—That doesn't look good. Come on.

We ran all the way to arrive at the boathouse. The fire department was already turning into the marina and a passing fire boat was floating off the dock. Damage appeared to be limited to a locked storage area out of sight behind the main building. The bomb squad arrived shortly after.

So did Steve.

—Is the bomb squad your doing?

—It is. I thought they might find something I couldn't.

—I tore through the pontoon boat last night.

I pulled out the map and unfolded it. Steve tapped his finger on several of the marks that were circled.

—I know some of these places. They're out of the way. Most wouldn't bother with them.

—Which makes them good for conducting business of one sort or another.

—I'd say so, too.

—Given what you've learned so far, would it be drugs or illegals?

—Could be either. Could be both.

Steve's cover-your-ass logic didn't impress me. Given how long both he and his partner Dell had been here, that was the best they could come up with? I could be wrong, but it started to look like they were on a club fed paid vaycay.

It was that, or they were deliberately holding out.

—How do you propose we find out?

The pissed-off look crossing Allie's face said she'd had enough. I couldn't blame her. The actions of her brother could end up costing her the family business on account of his drug dealings.

—You guys figure it out for yourselves. I'm going to pick up Zelda.

Like Steve and Dell, I hadn't been any help either. In fact, so far, the only constructive thing I'd managed to do was cut some duct tape off of Allie.

**At one point,** Hank, Allie's brother, held all the marbles in the business. Now he owed 50K on it, and by the look and sound of the explosion, his payments had to be running late. If the bombing wasn't a warning from those Hank owed money, it turned out to be a feeble way to take down a building.

I put a hold on the immigration horse-manure and went with the drug scenario. The fifty might not be big enough to kill anyone over, at least not a business owner that had assets such as boats that could be put to use. It would be enough to send a message by blowing up an outbuilding. And speaking of that, where the hell was Hank?

With Allie out of the way temporarily while she went to retrieve Zelda, it was time to put the pressure on Steve to pony up. I found him on the dock.

—You need to level with me.

—Look, I know you have skin in the game, but I don't have much to tell. Even if you are an ex-cop. Yeah, I know, I checked you out.

So he knew. I wondered how much he already told the rest of Hank's crew.

—Then you must have found out I don't take kindly to fools. By the look of it, both you and Dell have been putting in quite a bit of time on this little project.

—You don't know shit.

—I know your tan lines are gone, your hair is long and the sunglasses make you both look like a couple of surfers from California that took a wrong turn and got lost. I'd say that line works pretty good on the weekend crowd of Miami girls.

—It takes time to work up an investigation of this magnitude.

—Maybe, but I'm here and learning fast. You start your weekends early on Friday to make the long road trip into Miami. You don't get back until Monday. How am I doing so far?

—Well-

I'd made it plain I knew their game.

—Well, nothing. It's starting to look like it's one long vacay for both of you. That makes for only a three-day work week to break up the monotony and collect the paycheck.

I had him, and Steve knew it. I laid on the finishing touch.

—I've got some connections in places you probably know. I think I'll make a few phone calls to see what I can find out about what it is that's going on.

—All right, you win. Dial it back a notch, all right?

He as much as admitted they'd been screwing the pooch. Once Zelda got here, she'd have a hard time keeping both of them off of her. I just hoped their fleas wouldn't be infesting Zelda. Or anyone else, as far as that goes.

—Are you saying that you're not after Hank? Having his assets forfeited would be quite a catch on someone's record.

—It's not Hank we're after. He's just a small-time user who got lucky with too much credit. His supplier must have seen the scope of Hank's business and thought he might be able to pick it up on the cheap. It's the higher-ups that really interest us. We want to know where Hank's supplier is getting it.

I flipped the recorder out of my pocket and made a show of letting the man see it. His ashen face about said everything.

—I'll be holding you to that.

**I figured Allie** wouldn't be in the best frame of mind by the time I climbed the stairs to her apartment. She managed to retrieve Zelda and get her fed. Both of them were curled up on the sofa. Zelda was having her ears scratched. It was a toss-up who had the bigger grin.

Okay, so maybe Allie's mood wasn't the worst. My smile was pretty big, too. I knew I'd have to dive right in while things were looking good.

—Your brother-

Allie nodded in the direction of the kitchen and sat up. Zelda knew enough to scurry off the sofa. She sat and looked from me to Allie and back like she knew something we didn't.

—I know all about it. Hank! Get in here.

Poor Hank shuffled into the room, head hanging and by the look of it, knees shaking. I was too glad that Allie's anger wasn't directed towards me, or I think I'd be in the same boat with the knees.

—Hank, this is Jim Nash. He's here to help me. And by extension, you. Do you get it?

Hank resembled a walking disaster. A sweaty, pale face was only surpassed by the sweat that soaked through his shirt. His hands shook and his face twitched. It wasn't just that his sister was ragging on him. He looked to be coming down off a binge that must have lasted the past two days.

—You're a weekend binger, aren't you?

He looked at me like I was from another planet. He looked like he didn't want to answer, either.

—Pretty much.

At last.

—Ever inject?

—No.

—How long have you been using?

—About six months, off and on.

—That fifty-k you owe, is that for yourself, or for parties?

Hank deflated and shrunk about a foot. His eyes looked anywhere but at me. I was pretty sure he wanted to crawl into a corner and die. Instead, he turned away from his sister and faced me.

—Parties, mostly. I could never use that by myself.

—Some could. You know the next line of that shit could kill you, right? Or the one after that, or the one after that.

—I never thought of it that way.

—Start.

It was plain to me Hank was hurting. It wouldn't be long before he'd be crashing, and crashing big. Suspicion and paranoia wouldn't be far behind. What also wouldn't be far behind was the desire for more coke to stuff up his nose to ease the symptoms, funded by ever more of the business.

Allie heard enough.

—Hank, you need to get out of here and into rehab.

—I won't go into rehab. We can't afford it. I can do it on my own.

—No, you can't. The problem, as I see it, is this: You owe money. They know where you live. They've already sent you a message with the shed business.

He started to pay attention. Eyes and ears pointed in my direction. Even Zelda looked up at me.

—What? What happened?

—Yesterday someone sent you a message by blowing up a storage area.

Hank came back to earth. It was painful to watch.

—Shit. I know I can do this if Allie is here to help me. I'm only a weekend user.

I heard that often enough. Mind you, I didn't know him. I didn't know what he was capable of. Plus there was the whole bomb thing. It went from bad to worse.

—Allie. Say something.

I knew when Hank said it that it was the wrong thing. Allie looked at me, and then at her brother and back at me. She got up off the sofa, pulled back her right and hit Hank with a pile-driver that I thought would knock him sober. In fact, it just might have. When the shock worked its way through, Hank climbed up off the floor and hugged his sister.

The tears were my cue.

—Come on, Zelda. It's time we went for a walk.

**The light offshore** breeze eased the humidity out to sea and replaced it with cooler and drier air, making it bearable to be outside. Even Zelda appreciated it. I could tell by the way she wagged her tail.

Well, all right. I couldn't tell. It just seemed like it.

The truck nonchalantly pulled out from the curb. Until the headlights pointed directly at us, I wasn't sure. Zelda didn't have any doubt. If it depended on me, we'd have been road kill.

The truck missed by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin. I was so happy to still be here that it didn't even occur to me to get the plate. When I came to my senses, it was too late.

—Come on, Zelda, I think we'd better double-time it home to momma before someone gets lucky.

I spoke too soon.

The second vehicle came out from a cross-street and bore down on us from behind. This time, the racing engine clued me in. I yanked Zelda behind a pole and together we watched the sideshow as the driver stuck his head out the window. Maybe he thought he was a dog out for a drive to bask in some fresh air.

He cranked fast on the wheel in an attempt to keep the car headed in our direction. The engine revved. Tires squealed and lost traction. The car swerved, bumped against the curb and flipped onto its roof.

This was getting too easy. The dust cleared and I tried forcing the door. It caught and scraped against the pavement and jammed. I gave up and reached in through the open window. I had to fish through two pockets before I came up with ID.

The third pocket wasn't empty, either. My hand filled with an automatic. I checked the action and tucked the handgun into my belt.

—All right, Zelda, let's carry on with our walk. I don't think anyone will be bothering us for the rest of it. And if they do-

I patted the handgun. Zelda must have agreed, because she wagged her tail and nosed my hand. Either that, or she was looking for a treat for her well-done job of saving my ass yet again.

It seemed to me like Hank had gotten his head in just a little deeper than he was willing to admit. Launching two cars at someone was definitely overkill, especially if the first would have done its job. Either the bums were extremely incompetent, or it was a double warning.

For now, I'd be going with incompetent.

I couldn't figure where the two feds fit into the scheme of things. I didn't know where Dell and Steve were coming from. It seemed like they were out for themselves with a shortened schedule and weekend trips to Miami. I wondered if they'd be around when the chips were down, and if they were, how much good it would do.

So far, I had a kidnapping, a shooting, an explosion, and two cars attempting to run me down. None of it got me any closer to figuring out what the hell was going on.

**First out of bed** in my house meant cooking breakfast. Last out of bed had better make it. Fortunately for all of us, Zelda couldn't cook, but I could. Allie would have to be happy with bed duty.

Yeah. No. I left out the part that said it wasn't my house. I figured if I knew what was good for me, I'd act like it. I didn't get to turn on the stove. Allie came out of the bedroom dressed for work. When I checked, the bed wasn't made either. I'd have to work on that, given the chance.

—What's up?

—I just got a phone call. Someone wants to reserve a boat to take an offshore trip to meet up with a freighter.

—Is that normal?

—Not really.

—It doesn't sound right, Allie.

—I know. But business is business. We need the money.

—Which boat?

—The cigarette.

The cigarette was a sleek, fast boat. Images of the old Miami Vice television show came to mind.

—Will you fuel it and warm it up for me?

I headed downstairs in the direction of the pier and the expensive cigarette moored at the end. Whoever hired it wanted speed. I filled the tank, checked the oil and started the fans. After a few minutes of warm-up, she'd be good to go in a hurry.

The dock gate slammed and Dell joined me. The gun in his hand wasn't reassuring. He waved it in the direction of shore and I led the way up the stairs. At his car he popped the trunk and smacked me on the back of the head.

He pushed me forward and I dropped into it like a side of beef.

* * *

**AT FIRST, I** wasn't sure if it was my head buzzing or the sound of the cigarette at full throttle leaving the dock in its wake. I didn't care, though, because the first thing I needed to do was find the trunk's release handle in the dark.

I ignored my pounding head and flailed and kicked and felt around until I connected with it in the dark confines of the trunk. I yanked and the lid popped open. Modern cars. You can't beat them.

Blinded by the light, I blinked and and squinted until my eyesight went back to normal.

Dizzy and disorientated from the gun-barrel to the head, I stumbled and fell back, and barely managed to keep from falling. Whatever I was trying to do, it didn't work. I couldn't hold myself steady. On my way down, I made a grab for the dirt and planted my face firmly.

Steady as she goes, even if I was spread-eagled on the ground.

I managed to pull myself to my feet and stumble in the general direction of my car. I fished for the keys and opened the trunk and managed not to dive in and face-plant. I fumbled for my automatic and the mags. The familiar firepower saved my ass a number of times. The mere sound of it unloading was cause enough to force a shooter to turn tail and hide.

The second cigarette boat was still moored. It would be the only chance of catching up with Allie. I stumbled down the dock and only went down on my knees once. I didn't even pick up a sliver for my troubles.

I checked the fuel and started the fans to clear the engine compartment. Impatient as I was, the last thing I wanted was to blow the boat sky-high with me in it.

The prevailing wind held me hard against the dock. I didn't have time to practice what I'd already been taught. Instead, I reversed and spun the wheel enough times to get pointed in the direction I needed to be going. As soon as I got clear of the dock, I firewalled the twin throttles on the sleek, powerful cigarette.

I cleared the breakwater at full speed, but the only thing on the horizon that I could see appeared ghostly, obscured by the salt-water haze from the foamy, wind-driven waves. I checked my aim and locked the wheel.

For a guy who didn't know shit from Shinola about boating, I thought things were going swimmingly right up until the strong, on-shore wind forced the bow hard against the pounding waves. My head throbbed in unison, still aching from the rap on the back of the head.

The boat topped a huge wave and I caught sight of what I was chasing. Already Allie's cigarette was on its return run towards shore. I unlocked the wheel and cranked it hard. I thought for sure I'd be able to come around in a matching arc. What I hadn't thought about was what I'd do when I caught up.

It was all going pretty good until it wasn't.

The landlubber part of me had no understanding that being broadside to wind and wave at speed might create some questionable rock-and-roll where it wasn't wanted. I grabbed on to everything I could. Being too stupid to panic probably saved me from going into the drink.

The cork I bobbed on didn't settle down until I had her pointed downwind. She resumed a more regular up-and-down crashing through and then overtop of wave after wave. My own ignorance had saved me yet again.

Each time the boats descended the swells separating them I lost sight of everything. Without a constant reference, I grew confused, angry and lost every time. To add insult to injury, both engines stumbled and quit, leaving me at the mercy of the fierce wind driving the angry sea.

Adrift, the boiling sea and waves rolling higher and faster than an amusement park thrill-ride had me clinging to the boat like it was the last I'd ever see of solid ground. Except it wasn't solid, and it wasn't ground. Water poured in and sloshed, ankle-deep and rising. Wind driving the saltwater spray blanked my vision.

Blinded, on my knees, trying to hang on and not get thrown overboard by the constant shifting and uneven rocking of the boat became my primary goal. Rather than let panic take over, I ran through a check-list of my own making.

It was a short one. I needed to get an engine going. Still reeling, I lurched forward and punched a starter. When nothing happened I took a break and wrapped rope around my waist and tied off. If I was going to go down, it would be with the boat.

I tried the second engine.

Still nothing. I fumbled with the throttles and jammed one into neutral. I tried again and an engine caught and fired. I rammed the single throttle forward.

Secure in the knowledge that for now I wouldn't be drowning within sight of land, I completely forgot about the second engine. The heavy boat lurched its way towards shore, underpowered and forced to plow through wave after wave.

The only thing I knew about boats, I learned watching movies and television. Something screamed bilge pump. I frantically searched the dash for a switch that I knew should be somewhere. I found two, and punched them up, and that reminded me that I might have a second engine to try and get started.

I adjusted the throttle and repeated the start sequence for number two. It caught right away. With both engines and the bilge pumps doing their duty, the level of the water washing into the boat began slowly subsiding. Not long after it was back to ankle-deep.

For only a moment I was convinced that a sliver of sunlight escaped through the cloud and shone down on me. Either that, or I was delirious.

By now, I had no idea where I was. I couldn't make out the shoreline. The boat I was in a hurry to catch disappeared along with it.

I continued pointing the bow downwind and hoped for the best.

**On the verge of** surrendering and heading back to where I thought the marina should be, I topped a wave. Through the haze a boat popped up in front of me. It looked to be stopped, but with the wind and the waves and the rocking and rolling roller-coaster ride I was taking, I couldn't be sure. I had a suspicion that whatever I was looking at, it couldn't be good.

At first, I didn't recognize the two shapeless blobs squatting in the middle of the ocean. I drew closer and thought I could make out a tiny sandspit barely above the water. It took a couple of minutes of speeding towards it to finally recognize those blobs for what they were.

Sharks, perhaps. Or porpoises. Or I don't know what. In the blinding, wind-driven salt spray and thick haze, it didn't occur to me they could be people. As far as I knew, people couldn't walk on water.

Not even Allie.

Howling wind drove the waves crashing over the sandspit into a hellish, foaming maelstrom. Hope of beaching to retrieve two people digging into a spit of sand for dear life rapidly evaporated. So did my hope of rescuing them.

I had no time to stay scared of what I knew would be inevitable. I had no idea what would be necessary. I didn't know how to handle a boat, not in screaming wind and crashing waves and rough sea. At that instant I knew that we were all going to drown.

I steered past the spit and came around into wind to slowly move up parallel to the sandspit. I threw out useless life jackets that got lost in the wind. I reduced power and allowed the boat to be blown back by the wind.

Cursing, I couldn't understand why no one attempted to make a grab for the life jackets. It only made sense when I recognized that both were trying to hang on to nothing more than sand. It was that, or be washed away into the sea.

At least whoever forced them to walk the plank had been gracious enough not to tie them up. If they had, by now they'd be long past drowning in the maelstrom of water and foam crashing over the spit, or been washed away, never to be seen again.

Allie and Steve must have been in shock at seeing another boat stumbling along at just the right time. Unfortunately for them, it was piloted by someone who had no idea how to get them aboard and out of danger. If I was lucky, I'd get one try at rescue.

I tossed out the feeble anchor on the windward side of the spit. The landlubber in me had to figure a way to work the boat over to the downwind side and stay attached. If I could come up on the spit using the engines, maybe they could use the anchor rope get on board.

I took the chance.

Waves crashed over the bow, forcing water into every orifice. Salt stung my eyes and forced them into slits. I tried wiping with a hand, but it only made the salt sting worse.

I fought with the throttles to keep the bow pointed into the wind. I reduced power and let the wind push me backwards. I prayed the anchor rope would be long enough.

It had to be. I had nothing else.

**I allowed the** boat to drift downwind and experimented with the throttles in an attempt to find an equilibrium against the wind and the sea crashing over the bow. Each time I worked my way close, wind gusts took over and I had to ease back and start over.

My own incompetence coupled with the fear that I'd be letting two people drown forced me to keep trying. Again and again I had to abandon my setup to the wind and the waves. Suddenly and without warning, the wind abruptly changed direction. The boat slammed onto the spit and tipped onto its side.

Allie and Steve had to be exhausted by their efforts to cling to the disappearing sandspit. Steve used the last of his strength to push Allie over the rail. I made a grab for her and almost fell overboard but for the rope around my waist securing me to the boat. I regained my balance and helped pull Steve on board.

Steve handed over a knife and I sawed through the anchor rope. Just as suddenly, the boat righted itself and re-floated as the sea continued to crash over the sandspit.

My job now was to get us all back to shore. I firewalled the throttles and set course in a wide arc that would move us safely downwind and home.

I checked the lights above the bilge switches. If we got lucky, the pumps would keep doing their job until we made the breakwater.

**Safely inside the** shelter of the breakwater, the wind died and the sea calmed. It became impossible to tell, other than by the low, black cloud base overhead, that only minutes before we had all been hostage to such a deadly force over open water.

Steve was first to recover his voice, and his strength.

—You're a sight for sore eyes - and I mean that literally. I can't wipe the salt out of them.

—If I knew what I was doing, I wouldn't have been out there in the first place.

Allie remained sitting on the deck, steadying herself with her feet jammed against a seat.

—You just made admiral of the fleet, Jim. Unfortunately, due to recent budget cuts, there's no pay to go along with it.

I held up shaking hands.

—I'm just happy to be here.

I got a lot happier when I thought I caught sight of the boat I'd been chasing moored at a dock.

—That looks like the cigarette boat you were forced to walk the plank on.

I gestured at what looked to be a deserted warehouse jutting out over the water. The clean lines of the cigarette stuck out like a lighthouse beacon on a dark night.

I eased the throttles back to just above idle and let the boat drift with the current past the dilapidated building.

—Someone take the wheel. I have business to take care of.

I grabbed my automatic and the two mags and eased my way to the bow.

—Set me on that green patch and this landlubber will forgive you for testing my abilities. I'll see both of you back at the dock.

Steve gave me an _Aye, Captain_ , and I was happy to jump ship onto a narrow patch of solid ground that not so long ago I thought I'd never be seeing again. I waded through thick salt grass and spongy, wet shoreline.

The building wasn't much to look at. Single-story, about a hundred long by fifty wide-big enough to hold whatever was going on. No doubt it had been chosen for its isolation and beat-up, broken-down, unused look.

Inside, blaring music killed my chances of listening in on any conversation. Bright light shone through a window. Whatever it was, it needed a lot of light.

I bellied my way towards the only window I could see. I figured I'd be up to my ass in alligators in a matter of seconds.

**One look inside said** this was going to need more planning. I crouched down and crawled my way around all three landward sides of the building. The only way in and out was through the original entrance overlooking the water. The rear was closed up tight. Opposing windows on two sides gave clear views into the building.

I took a quick glance inside and I knew this place was more than I could handle. I crawled off into the bush on my belly and hoped I wouldn't get an opportunity to wrestle with a gator on the lookout for a warm, fresh meal.

I reached into a pocket and pulled out my waterlogged phone. I chanced it and called Allie's phone. Miraculously, the call went through and she handed the phone off to Steve.

There wasn't much to explain. The cigarette was still moored. I didn't know what I was looking at through the window, other than a bunch of machinery and people. It definitely wasn't a meth lab.

I listened to Steve's advice and then I took it.

I swatted mosquitoes, daydreamed about the vacation I didn't get to share with Zelda, and tried not to doze off. No way did I want to become fresh food for the alligators I knew had to be loitering. Every sound had me on edge and wondering if they could smell. I told myself they couldn't.

I wasn't stupid enough to believe it.

It seemed like about a week later before a swat team in three boats finally idled its way towards the building. I stayed hidden, concealed in the tall grass. The men scrambled off the boats and ran down the dock towards the broken-down building. It was surrounded with practiced ease.

On signal, flash-bangs and tear gas cartridges shattered windows and exploded. I counted at least a dozen people double-timing their way out, arms held high in the hope that lead wouldn't fly in their direction.

When I figured the operation was over, I stashed my illegal mags by a mango and strolled onto the dock. Following a patdown, Steve was more than happy to let me in on the secrets discovered during the search.

He led me on a walk-through, and I couldn't count the lathes and boxes of parts for the made-to-order weaponry. Illegal arms were being received, modified to order, and shipped throughout Central America and Mexico. Drug cartels paid good money for that stuff.

It was going to be a feather in Steve's cap to be a party to the discovery. I figured it wouldn't hurt to be the one who brought him in on it.

**Allie's grin pretty** much said it all by the time I had the boat tied to the dock unscathed but for the seawater that washed aboard. She almost put us both in the drink in her enthusiasm to welcome me. As for Zelda, well, there was no holding her back, either.

—Hank has agreed to go into rehab. He's leaving tomorrow.

—That's a good thing.

—Just to be sure, he booked two sessions, back-to-back.

—Smart man. So then, that means you're in charge, does it?

—Yes, I am. Want to make something of it?

—No. I was wondering, though-

—Then wonder no more. I need a dependable man to run herd on the crowd of misfits I suddenly find myself responsible for.

—I know absolutely nothing about boats or dive shops. Or tiki bars either, for that matter.

—That makes you perfect for the job. I can train you.

—In that case, I have a few ideas-

—Stow it, landlubber. There'll be plenty of time for that down the road.

—That's what I'm afraid of.

Zelda chose exactly that moment to bark. If she agreed, how could I say no?

###

Thrill Kill Jill

_Retired detective Jim Nash is headed for a much-needed vacation with the two favorite women in his life. When he pulls off the highway into a rest stop, his girlfriend disappears without leaving a trace. Left to his own devices when the local PD refuses to let him file a missing person report, Nash pulls out all the stops in his attempt to find the missing woman with the help of his faithful dog, Zelda. Second Jim Nash adventure._

**IT WASN'T THAT** late by the time we got it together and hit the road. As usual, Zelda was first off the mark. Allie and I took a little longer. That was no surprise. We didn't wolf down our food and drink from side-by-side bowls.

We figured on a stop every couple of hours to give Zelda a break from the back seat. A little water and exercise would keep her spirits up. A little water and exercise would probably keep up the spirits of the humans in the car, too.

It wasn't so warm that we couldn't enjoy a bit of fresh air with the windows down. Zelda would occasionally stick her head out of the window into the slipstream. Her gums flapped, her ears wriggled uncontrollably. She'd withdraw onto the back seat, shaking her head and wuffing to put everything back in place.

I drove past a truck stop on the opposite side of the highway and instead pulled into our third rest stop of the day. I idled past a couple of cars and a tractor minus its trailer. That was it for company at the lonely rest stop.

I took my turn with Zelda. Allie took hers in the rest room. While we waited, I grabbed the Frisbee and made sure Zelda got her exercise by fetching on the grassy expanse that surrounded the cement block building.

We were huffing and puffing by the time the sun took up a position low on the horizon. We both took our time returning to the car. By then I finally noticed that Allie hadn't returned.

I opened the door and loaded Zelda, and then proceeded to wander around the building. I knocked on restroom doors and called out her name.

No answer. Nothing.

I followed up by easing open the doors on each of the stalls and taking a look, conscious that I might disturb a female stranger into screaming. There weren't any.

The same in the men's, and in the wheelchair access, too.

Well now. This was unusual. We just started out and already Allie went and skipped on me. I circled the building and walked over to investigate the area surrounding the picnic tables.

Nothing there, either.

I returned to our car and let Zelda out to do her thing. I hoped she'd be able to come up with a lot more. I followed as she snuffled her way towards the women's. From there she circled around the back of the building and padded her way in the direction of the empty parking lot.

Zelda headed right for the elongated parking lanes where the semis usually stopped in the middle of it all. She halted, sat on her haunches and looked up at me. Perhaps she was expecting that I knew something she didn't.

—Sorry, Zelda, but your guess is as good as mine.

By now I was convinced that Allie wasn't anywhere in the rest area. That Zelda came up short in the parking lot pretty much told me that.

How did she leave? Where did she go? How did she get there?

And even more important, why?

As a last resort, I called Allie's cell. A faint ringing led me to the low bushes behind the building. I hung up and the ringing stopped.

So much for Zelda's nose.

Someone obviously tossed the phone. I hoped it was Allie. If it wasn't, whoever tossed it would certainly have turned it off.

Beyond that, there was no sign Allie had ever been here with us.

Now I had something to worry about.

I opened the door for Zelda and we burned rubber crossing the median, doubling back to the truck stop as fast as we could.

**Somewhere between the** rest stop and the truck stop gas-and-go my phone stopped working. That pretty much cinched it for me. If I was going to call a cop I needed a pay phone. The odds of finding one these days was slim to none.

Zelda condescended to let me go inside alone while she busied herself patrolling the lot. She began a slow, four-footed crawl up and down the lines of semis idling in the lot. She snuffed and huffed her way up one end and down another in a quest to catch Allie's scent.

She stopped and sat down at one that looked vaguely familiar. Her antics caught my attention. I quit the pay phone mid-dial. By the time I hustled outside, an overweight man had climbed down from the cab. He didn't appear happy that my dog was keeping an eye on him.

He waved a hand at Zelda, in an attempt to get her to leave. When that didn't work, he yelled. Unperturbed, Zelda sat on her haunches just out of reach. She looked back for me. The man chose that moment to send a foot flying.

I yelled and picked up the pace. Zelda dodged the heavy boot successfully and got down on her haunches. Her muscles tensed, readying for more. She bared her teeth and began to growl.

—If that's your dog you should get her out of here. She's liable to get run over.

Zelda made her way to the semi's passenger door. Her ears perked up and she began to bark.

I didn't want her to get a beating, and I didn't want to hand one out. I called to her and she followed me into the building. I managed to finish dialing 911 without being interrupted.

The desk officer wasn't a lot of help, but then I didn't really expect much. I already knew that most police departments didn't get concerned with missing persons before forty-eight or seventy-two hours.

Unless there was reason to suspect foul play, that is.

I let the officer know I'd be hanging around the restaurant in the gas bar if anyone wanted to get in touch. I left it at that. For my own peace of mind, and being the ex-cop that I am, I ran through what I knew up to now.

It wasn't much, but I hauled out a notebook and started writing. Old habits died hard.

Allie hadn't gone missing intentionally. Sure, she was under a lot of pressure and stress with the family business on the edge of bankruptcy. On the plus side, her brother, Hank, was out of rehab and doing great living on his own. He'd managed to pay back his drug loan. He was free of the bad guys. He even managed to keep his nose clean in the process.

Believe me, I knew that to be true. I kept both eyes on him every chance I got.

Confirmed landlubber that I was, I fumbled more than I cared to admit, but I tried helping where I could. Hank and Allie were patient. They allowed me to screw up when it wouldn't cost them hard-earned money. They knew I learned from my mistakes, and cut me a lot of slack because of that.

My only regret was not advancing up the Cub Scout ladder when I was a kid. I should have spent more time learning to tie knots. The marine environment I found myself in demanded it.

**Truck stops were** notorious for the hookers who worked the rows of huge trucks, servicing the drivers on a regular basis. Lot lizards, they were known as. They clip-clopped up and down the rows of trucks wearing sandals or flip-flops, in shorts or dresses, while knocking on doors where they were welcomed or refused.

Sometimes the trucks stopped because they knew a regular that worked the lot and they wanted to see her. Many of the women had a routine and a route and traveled back and forth between their favorite lots. They caught rides from friendly truck-driving customers they thought trustworthy.

Thus it was I recognized the woman getting out of a car parked on the shady side of the building. I had some dealings with her more than a few years back when I worked vice.

Jill turned out to be one of the smart ones. Like Jerry, who did custom woodwork and worked at the Blue Parrot to take up the slack, Jill made up her mind to get off the streets before a john or the drugs or both killed her.

For a split second I thought maybe she was back to her old ways, but then I remembered she had gotten tied up with some religious outfit that worked with the girls to get them off the street. She'd be doing a lot of walking in a place like this.

I waved and got ignored for my trouble. She must have thought I was just another john looking to do the dirty. I waved again and called out. She recognized me, finally, and waved back.

—Looking good, girl. All the walking you're doing is keeping you in shape.

—Well I'll be damned. The people you meet in a place like this. What are you doing all this way out of your jurisdiction, copper?

—I'm not a cop any more.

I held up a hand.

—Don't ask. It's a long story for when you have more time. How's business?

—One thing's for certain, it never slows down. If anything, the recession has made hooking an even more popular way to make ends meet. There's a lot more women than ever to save from themselves and their pimps.

—I hear that all right.

—So, what are you doing here?

—I lost one of my women at the rest stop on the other side of the interstate. One minute she was there, the next she wasn't with nary a whisper to alert us.

—Us?

—As in me. And Zelda over there.

I gestured to the dog. The jealous type that she was, Zelda was already on the run in my direction. I had a feeling she didn't want another woman coming between us so fast since the last one departed in such a hurry.

—The rest stop you're referring to has been the scene of more than one disappearance. Usually, it's one of the working girls. It's not normal for a regular woman to find herself lost there.

Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder. Minutes later three cars squealed into the parking lot. I hoped the show was for information about Allie. When more than one nosed up to me, I had a suspicion I was in for it.

Maybe the dog was a giveaway. Then I remembered I hadn't mentioned anything about a dog during hate 911 call. Why would I? So then, why was it that I was the subject of the drawn weapons in nervous hands pointing vaguely in my direction? One was even pointed at Zelda.

—Jim, I know they're not after me. I think you better surrender before hell breaks loose. I'll come by the station and check on you later, all right?

—I can't say no to an offer like that. Thanks, I appreciate it.

—I owe you one. I'll keep an ear peeled. What's her name?

—Allie. Brown and brown. Five-feet-nine. Shorts and a white shirt. Sandals.

I mumbled the last while forced to bend over the front end of a police cruiser. I was familiar with the position. In my past life as a cop I was accustomed to manhandling more than a few felons into the same one.

* * *

**THE DUST AND** the confusion settled and I found myself confronted by a fat, pink-faced cop in a sweat-stained shirt. He didn't appear overly eager to answer my questions. Instead, he talked over me.

—You're under arrest for the murder of Allie Sands, the woman you claim you're looking for.

Sitting in the back of the cruiser gave me a whole new perspective on the lot lizards traipsing from truck to truck across the hot cement. It became obvious that the women had no fear of the cops in this township. Not a one cast so much as a glance in the direction of the flashing lights and sirens announcing their arrival as they surrounded me.

It wasn't my first day on the inside of a cop car. I'd seen them from the front and the back. I knew the ropes, the tricks of the trade, to get a suspect to admit something, even something inconsequential. It would be twisted and turned against the suspect during an interrogation.

I kept my mouth firmly shut on the drive to the station. I had questions, but the back of a black and white wasn't the place or the time. A squad room detective was more my style, since I'd been one not so long ago.

Then it occurred to me during the drive through the small, one-horse town. Being a squad room detective in this place wouldn't be much to brag about.

The interrogation room was typical. One-way glass, a table and two chairs and a camera in a corner. This room was on the small side. More than likely the boys didn't ever get much of a reason to need something bigger. I figured the charges drummed up against me would be the biggest thing they had in years.

Drummed up had to be the right guess. Why else would I be under arrest? I definitely hadn't murdered anyone. There was no body that I knew of. Hell, there wasn't even a sign that Allie was missing, other than my word for it and the discarded phone I found.

I even made a bet with myself. I wagered that whoever was behind this was either dumb, stupid and had calloused knuckles that dragged, or the D.A. was up for re-election. For now, I'd be going with all of them. Stupid is as stupid does. I couldn't remember where I heard that.

They sent in a kid fresh out of police college - if they even had one within a thousand miles. His armpits were already soaked by the time he opened the door to announce his arrival. My best guess involved someone standing behind the glass who wanted to evaluate exactly what it was he had before diving in.

I put it to the kid right away. Before he had a chance to sit down, I asked for water. Stupid left his files behind. I used the opportunity to flip through the pages in a hurry to see what he had.

Nothing.

The outfit was on a fishing expedition. And I had just fished my way into pissing off whoever was hiding behind the glass. Next try I figured they'd be throwing a hooker at me to see what splashed.

The kid they threw to the wolf never came back. Instead, I was blessed with one a little higher up the food chain. I knew by his suit.

—You forgot my water.

—You're not getting any. You're also not getting out of here unless I say so.

If that was their best hardball game, I figured it wouldn't be long before I hit a couple of homers. I didn't give the man a chance to ask a question. Instead, I took the opportunity to turn the interview upside-down, rapid-fire style.

—What's the charge?

—Murder.

—Who did I murder?

—Your girlfriend, Allie Sands.

—How did I kill her?

—We don't know yet.

—Why did I kill her?

—We don't know.

—Who identified the body?

—We don't have a-

He halted.

No body.

So much for a murder charge.

—All right, then. My interview is over.

I was so far ahead that I couldn't resist.

—Any more questions?

A rap on the door interrupted the silence in the room. The woman who walked in was almost taller than the door.

She wasn't hard to look at, either.

**Jill must have** done her damnedest to get a lawyer down here before I ended up shipped off to the gulag. She appeared with a writ, and after much hand-wringing and more than a few loud words exchanged with my jailers, I ended up a free man.

The lawyer must have had a good four inches on me, and I noticed it right away that it was all in her legs as I followed her down the hall. Her ass wasn't anything to sneeze at either. Just to be sure, I let her take the lead and I walked more than a few steps behind for a better look.

—Are you done yet?

She was no dummy, either. I smiled and allowed myself to catch up. I couldn't hide the grin. She didn't seem to mind.

—We're not talking in here. There's a table outside.

—What's your name?

—Barbara. I already know who you are. I sometimes do _pro bono_ for Jill and her group. She called me the minute you left the lot. And I searched you out on the net, so I know all about your troubles back home.

—You're fast. I like that.

—One more thing. I'm a dog-lover, too. Jill can't have a dog in her apartment. I volunteered to take Zelda home with me. She'll be happy spending her idle days in my back yard.

—Great. Now all I need is a place to stay until I can locate my girlfriend.

—That's a job for the police.

—I think we both already know how that's going to go.

She regarded me with a cool look.

—I like your attitude. I have plenty of room. You can stay with me. You won't even know I'm there.

—You know, I could be one of those serial killers or a rapist or just plain hateful towards women.

—Yeah. And judging by how fast you go through them, I'd say you might be all three.

It was my turn to give her a second look.

—You really did scour the net for me, didn't you?

—That's part of my job, Detective Nash.

—Retired. And prone to getting adopted by strangers, apparently.

—I don't do that for just anyone, in case you might think otherwise.

Barbara filled me in on the drive to her place. She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. No body, no crime. Don't disappear. Carry on looking for Allie as best you can. Don't kill anyone if you find out where she is.

—I'll need a gun and a car.

—Yes, I saw what they pulled out of your car. It's illegal. They'll be bringing that up next. And no, I can't help you by putting a gun in your hands.

—Which bar do I need?

—The Blue Lantern.

—I never heard that.

—And I didn't say it.

My kind of girl. She had a car for me, too.

—The keys are hanging by the door. Zelda is in the back yard. I left food and water for her. You'll get yours later, whenever that is.

I didn't have time to waste. First stop, the bar. I ordered a beer, flipped a twenty in the direction of the lazy bartender, and managed to convince him I wasn't looking for change. He held out his hand and I added ten to the deal. It lubed him enough and I sat back to listen as he answered my questions.

It was mostly rumor, but then what else would there be in a small-town bar? I grew up in a small town and couldn't wait to get the hell out. They lived on rumor and innuendo.

When I left the bar, I had what I needed. I knew a little more about the truck stop, too. What I wasn't sure about was Barbara's motive for being so generous to a complete stranger.

I made my way to Barbara's and walked around back. She was doing laps in the backyard pool attached to the huge house. Not bad for a small-time lawyer. She saw me and waved. The practiced way she climbed out of the pool said she'd done it before.

I didn't mind, though. She could practice all she wanted. I used the opportunity to take a real good look and decided on the spot that her legs never ended.

She knew I was looking, because she bent from the waist to retrieve the towel she dropped on purpose.

—Steaks are in the fridge.

She gestured in the direction of the barbecue.

—You'll be our chef tonight.

I found two steaks. Apparently, I'd be the only guest, too.

**I was well-fed** and relaxed after the long day. The sun was getting lower over the horizon. I opened my eyes and squinted against it until a shadow interrupted. Barbara stood over me.

Whatever her dress was made out of, it wasn't as thick as perhaps it should have been. That was probably for my benefit, because when she stood like that, I could see right through it.

—You're not wearing anything under that dress, are you?

I didn't need to ask. It was plain as day

—Why don't you investigate further, Detective Nash.

—Retired.

—Yes.

I was right. All she had on underneath was a short, dark runway that led to- well, you get the idea.

I left Barbara breathing softly and dressed. I needed to do some night work, and this time, she wasn't part of the work I needed to do. I tucked her in, checked on Zelda, who seemed just as happy to see me, and tucked her in, too. I was down a woman, but I still had two.

There was something not right about thinking like that.

I headed back to the truck stop. The first thing I did was pick up a burn phone. I checked Jill's card and punched in the numbers. A phone rang in the restaurant. I looked up and Jill waved.

—You're out, I see. Any trouble?

—You did good. I owe you, big time.

—In that case, I'll save it for when I really need you. How did you get along with Barbara?

Where should I start? I didn't want to bullshit Jill. She was too down-to-earth for that, anyway. There was no sense lying. Why would I?

—We're getting along better than any other lawyer I ever knew. She's tough on the outside edges and more than a little soft on the inside.

—And she has you at her place.

My beet-red face gave the rest away. She pretended not to notice.

—What do you need, Nash?

I needed to know everything about this place and the rest stop down the road. I needed to know where Allie had been taken. I needed to know if she was still alive. I needed to know who had taken her. I needed to know everything I didn't know.

I didn't think Jill had any answers, but she was as good a place to start as any.

—After we're done, you should probably check with Barbara about the business end of this place. She'll be able to find out who owns it.

—I'll do that. Now tell me what you know about what goes on here. I can promise you that anything you say will never be repeated to another soul.

It got to be pretty late by the time Jill finished her tale of woe. It wasn't a pretty tale, either. Some of the things she told me about serial killer truckers made my gut churn, and this for a full-time cop.

If Allie had come up against a serial killer, she was already dead and gone by the time I'd been surrounded in the parking lot and accused of being her killer.

**Barbara picked up** with that sleepy, throaty sound a women makes in the middle of the night when she knows who's on the other end. I ignored it. When I asked what she knew about the truck stop, she became defensive. She fumbled her answers in between too many pauses.

_I'll tell you more when you get here_ , quickly became her answer for the day.

I knew right away she didn't want to talk when I walked through the door. She greeted me too fast and too furious. She had to be watching for me. Considering what she was wearing, I wondered how much time she'd spent picking out the perfect outfit to let me know what she didn't have on underneath.

I rummaged through the fridge for something to eat and she propped herself up on the island. When I turned around, those fine, long legs were right in front of me. I couldn't not look, and she won.

I began to wonder if I'd be getting a bill I couldn't afford to pay.

—How did your visit with Jill go at the truck stop?

She already knew she was winning, because I couldn't tear my eyes away to answer the question. New stuff always did that to me.

—All right, I guess.

That was an understatement. By the time I had reviewed the papers Jill passed on to me at the truck stop, even she had been taken by surprise. Buried in them and the numbered company documents was a single page with Barbara's name on it. It listed her as a majority owner of the truck stop.

She wasn't the only owner, though.

I wasn't sure if I should let on that I knew.

I started to feel more than a little guilty about bedding this woman. She was attractive, and she knew it. She knew how to get under my skin, too. Up to now, I'd had a hard time keeping my hands off when she launched herself at me. I was determined to change that.

Zelda must have heard I was home. She came charging into the room and leaped up to begin licking my face. Trust a faithful dog to know when to barge in on a situation.

It was my turn to start asking questions, like the ex-cop that I was. With her being a lawyer and all, I figured I'd start out looking like a simpleton. If she bought into it, I'd be home free to dig a little deeper, just to help out.

—How long have you owned the truck stop?

Barbara pushed herself down off the counter. I had her.

—Jill did quite the job, I'm sure.

—Answer the question, Barbara.

She tried to string me along with a lot of mumbo-jumbo about being poor and fighting this and that and everything in the world to get where she was.

I held up a hand to stop her and dug the hole a little deeper.

—You're only a part owner. The police chief is a partner.

That got a surprised look. And then it turned to ice. I didn't give her a chance.

—So is the judge. And the mayor.

Barbara would have collapsed on the floor if I hadn't caught her halfway down. Typical man that I was, I couldn't tell if she was for real or faking it. I decided to go with faking it until I knew more. Maybe that wasn't all she had faked.

I carried Barbara into the living room and laid her out on the sofa. When the dress slipped and the legs under it parted just so, I had my answer. I waited for her to pretend to come out of it.

It wouldn't take long after I hid those legs and what they led up to under a blanket.

Just the same, I kept looking.

* * *

**IT WAS TURNING** into a long night. I took another look at Barbara, covered as she was by the blanket. I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by what I knew was under it. I left her on the sofa and made my way to the kitchen to put on the coffee. Once she stopped pretending and came around I could begin to dig for more information.

By the time I showed up with two cups, she was sitting up and composed. She covered up her discomfort and I knew the dynamic between us had changed. I hoped it was enough to put me on the winning side.

—It's time you told me how you fit in with the rest of the crowd that owns that truck stop.

I didn't know what she was thinking, but I could almost hear the wheels turning. Shifting eyes said something was up. She'd gone from the confident lawyer to the person in the witness box. It occurred to me that she was running through a checklist in an attempt to end up with a result that she knew I'd be capable of accepting.

When her lips started to move, I expected nothing but lies to spew forth. After all, she was a lawyer.

She began with a dog-and-pony story about growing up as an only child in a poor neighborhood. How her parents struggled to get a good education for her and send her off to a good school. How she worked in a strip club to pay for her books.

That's where she met the police chief.

My ears perked up, kind of like Zelda's did when she suspected the good stuff would be coming any second.

—The police chief?

—He told me he'd take me out of the dump I was performing in. I believed him.

The sob story only got worse from there. She went on and on about moving into the cheap apartment. The others already there she suspected were told the same lies. She went along with it. She had no proof. Eventually, men showed up at the door and convinced her that she should hang out a for sale sign or suffer the consequences.

Barbara chose not to have consequences.

She did as she was told, and struggled to keep up her grades. When she graduated, she found out her name had been put on the title to the truck stop through a numbered company. And that's when the judge moved in on the police chief's former property.

I listened, but I had a hard time believing most of it. I heard more than my share of sob stories in my career as a cop. This one was going south sooner than a lot of others I had been privy to. I didn't let on.

—What about the lot lizards? Do they ever get arrested?

—I haven't represented any for quite a while.

—You're saying that the chief and the judge are in cahoots and running a prostitution ring?

Barbara didn't-or wouldn't-answer. Maybe she couldn't.

I cut her some slack to reconsider and left to refill my cup. When I returned, she had uncovered her legs. Her nightgown was riding high towards the edge of what I knew to be disaster. The one-way-only sign began at her ankles and pointed straight up.

I allowed myself to take a good look, but weakling that I was, this time I knew better. I went upstairs and hit the sack. Zelda was right behind me. She plopped down at the door, probably more than half-expecting that I'd be trying to make my way back downstairs before long.

I didn't bother to undress. I slept on top of the sheets.

**For some reason,** Zelda seemed to think it was important that I wake up. She wanted me out of the bed I was sleeping on, too. My wrist was in her mouth and she was tugging at me.

I found out why after I reluctantly opened one eye.

The glow that I thought was a light I left on turned out to be nothing of the sort. Broken glass cut into my bare feet as I tried to make it to the door. I ignored the pain and twisted the handle. The door wouldn't move, in either direction. Someone must have jammed the bedroom door from the outside.

I grabbed the bedspread to swipe away at the drapes in a feeble attempt to gain some semblance of control over the fire. When I smelled the gasoline, I knew that control wouldn't last. I got smart and gave up.

I tossed a chair through the window and climbed out. I ended up on roof of the garage. I reached in and grabbed a reluctant Zelda by the collar. I dragged her out behind me. The rest of the gasoline ignited and ended any hope for the rest of the house.

During a fire, people affected always think it takes longer for the fire department to arrive than it actually does. In this case, it took forever. The entire house became engulfed in flames by the time the single truck showed up.

The police never bothered.

Neither did Barbara.

Out front I loaded Zelda into the car Barbara loaned me and we took off for parts unknown-in other words, the nearest motel.

I called Jill to let her know about the fire. She didn't sound surprised. In fact, she sounded downright happy when I told her Barbara was missing. My guess was that since Barbara's truck stop had been party central for truckers and hookers, Jill was happy to see her gone.

That wasn't surprising, given their backgrounds.

With Barbara missing in the fire, I had a strong suspicion that I'd be held responsible for that, too. I flushed Zelda out of the hotel room and into the back of the car. We headed off to the truck stop to see what we could see.

**The minute I** opened my door at the truck stop, Zelda bounded out like a rescue dog on a mission. She headed towards the lines of trucks on the lot. Halfway through her patrol, she stopped, turned to look at me, and barked.

I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted for the familiar-looking tractor hooked up to a shiny, humming aluminum reefer and got there in time to witness Jill as she jumped down from the cab.

This was getting weird.

I sidestepped into the space between two of the trucks and waited.

The rabbit-hole was getting wider and deeper the more I learned. What was Jill doing in the truck that drew Zelda's attention? If I wasn't mistaken, this was the same tractor I'd seen parked at the rest stop when Allie went missing. All I needed to confirm it was to see yesterday's operator get out and try to put a boot to Zelda.

I took a better look at the trailer attached to the truck. An enclosed awning linked the back of the cab to the trailer, kind of like an accordion connector on a double streetcar. By the look of it, the only access was through the cab, and probably the trailer doors at the other end.

I went searching for bolt cutters.

Zelda refused to come with me. She stayed by the tractor and anxiously paced back and forth from the passenger door to the driver's side. She was definitely on to something. By the look of it, I needed to find out what.

It didn't take much to snap the locks securing the trailer doors. I raised the handle and swung the door wide. Cardboard boxes stacked to the roof prevented me from getting a better look inside. I cut into one. And then another, just to be sure. All empty. All for show.

Zelda's constant barking stopped abruptly.

**I came to** with a ringing head and a bump that had to be as big as an egg. I was in an almost-dark room with a lump on my head, a nasty headache and the sound of vague humming in the background. The dimly-lit room didn't reveal a lot.

Two silver tables glinting under rows of surgical instruments grabbed my attention right off. Either I was in the middle of an alien autopsy, or the lights in the operating room were set low to conserve energy.

The woman on the second table took exception. She wanted to know what had taken me so long.

—Allie. What the hell are you doing in the hospital?

—Take a look around, genius. Does this look like a hospital to you?

I had to agree that something wasn't right. I tried to raise an arm. I couldn't. I tried with a leg, and another arm, and another leg. Nothing.

—You're right. I'm tied down.

—Welcome to the club. I don't feel so special any more.

Something obvious told me we were both in the shit now.

* * *

**THE COP IN** me wanted to start the process of asking questions, machine-gun style. In Allie's case, I knew better. I waited for her to begin on her own. The chains restraining her rattled against the metal table as her uncontrollable shaking began.

—The guy who loaded me into the truck at the rest stop is called Ron. The woman helping him is Jill. When I walked out of the restroom at the truck stop, she stopped me to ask if it was clean. Before I could answer, a man grabbed me from behind. The woman taped my wrists and ankles. He threw me over his shoulder and loaded me into the truck.

She caught her breath.

—I couldn't call out. I didn't see you or Zelda. I don't know where you were.

—We were there. We moved onto the grass. We were tossing a Frisbee. I never noticed a thing. Neither did Zelda.

Her restraints quieted their rattling as she got deeper into her story.

—He's completely nuts. He thinks he's a scout or something. He's got the shirt with the badges, and he wears the shorts. He's even got the necktie handkerchief hanging up inside the cab.

The faint sound of a bell began to ring. The sense of it wasn't quite making its way through the bump on the back of my head and the pain that went along with it.

Yet.

—As soon as I saw the setup in his truck, I knew I wasn't the first to be treated to this place. I lost track of time in the dark. Other than his accomplice coming in to check on me, I have no idea what's going on.

—This is the second day since you disappeared.

I don't think it registered.

—It seems like this guy Ron has had some sort of a plan for the two of us for a while. I have the impression he knows you from somewhere. Maybe a past arrest. I think he took me to get to you.

—This woman, Jill, is she short and blonde?

—That's her. She can't stop talking about all the good she's doing for the hookers working the truck stop.

That cinched it. Jill was in cahoots with the man who tried to put the boots to Zelda. Call me premature in my conclusion, but it was starting to look like some sort of slave trade or serial killing was going on.

—She's doing good all right. Good for nothing. I arrested her years ago when I was working vice. She convinced me she was going to go all good-girl and get religion. When I saw her here, I thought she'd be the one to help me find you.

—You know how that turned out.

—Yeah. We're spending our vaycay shackled in the back of a serial killer's rolling slaughterhouse. I think now is the time to remind you that I never promised life with me would be boring.

In the dark, Allie clanked her way as far as the leg irons would let her. At the end of her tether she bent to reach my hand and squeezed. I knew it was obvious, but I asked anyway.

—Can you tell if I'm in chains?

Her hand moved along the metal wrapped around my wrist and worked its way to the table rail.

—I'm pretty sure it's handcuffs.

Allie's fingers followed along the belt to the buckle.

—I don't suppose you're wearing the belt.

The belt? What belt? We're staring down medical malpractice by an incompetent surgeon and she's asking about my belt?

The door opened. In the moment before it slammed shut I heard Zelda's bark. Whoever had climbed in was making their way towards the butcher shop.

—Get back to where you were. They can't know you can reach me.

**Jill turned up** the lights in the mobile operating theater and I recognized her immediately. So much for the reformed hooker helper. I had cut her some slack, and this is how it ended up. Not only wasn't she going to repay me for the favor, but there wouldn't be any justice, either.

—I'm sorry it has to be this way, Jim.

My mind raced to come up with something, anything, to appease the woman.

—Not as sorry as I am. I don't suppose there's anything I can say to convince you to let us go.

I had nothing. Allie and I would be dead meat. Literally.

—I had to get rid of Barbara after I told you about her. She was the weak link. She wanted out in the worst way.

Well, there was no doubt she was out now. That confirmed my suspicion that my lawyer was dead, either in the fire or outright murdered beforehand. Either way, still dead.

—What are you going to do with me?

I figured if I kept Allie out of the conversation, perhaps I could convince Jill to let her go.

—It's up to Ron.

—You're still letting men the men in your life run all over you, aren't you?

What became even more obvious was that Jill had a hankering to slice and dice the men she no longer wanted in her life. I was going to be next.

—Yes, Jim, I'm still letting a man run my life. And I enjoy pleasing him, no matter what he asks me to do.

Jesus, Jill must be the butcher in the slaughterhouse. The realization hit me like a brick over the head. I ran through every conceivable reason I could come up with to get her to help me. I couldn't come up with anything meaningful for me or for Allie.

—You need to let Allie go.

If I thought Allie and I were in deep shit before this woman showed up in the truck, I knew now that we had floated to the bottom of the cesspool. Neither of us was going to get the opportunity to regain the surface.

Jill didn't answer. She flipped off the lights and went forward to the cab. She opened the door and a sliver of light briefly illuminated Allie before it slammed shut.

I had no idea what Zelda could do to help us, but at least she was still on-station outside the door. I knew because the high-pitched scream wasn't coming from her. Dogs don't sound like women when they scream.

Allie's chains rattled on the floor. She bent over me again. I felt her fingers run along the inside of my belt.

—My money is in my wallet.

—The belt, Jim. Is that the belt I gave you?

—For Christ's sake, woman, what's the big deal about the belt? You never cared before.

Immediately I regretted raising my voice. She sighed, and I felt like a man soon to be threatened with a cold shoulder if I didn't give the right answer. The way things were going, she'd soon be asking if I thought she looked fat in those manacles.

—Is it the one I gave you? I can't tell in the dark.

She gave it to me before we broke up, as a birthday present. I never got a chance to tell her, but it was doing its duty faithfully, ever since.

—It happens to be, yes. Are you happy now?

—Not yet. Move to the edge of the table and I'll let you know.

I slithered my way across the table as far as the shackles would allow. I didn't want her to start thinking that I never did what I was told to do by a woman.

—I'm there. What's next?

It hit me all of a sudden, the way some things do when you aren't thinking about them.

**Allie's fingers returned** to work their way across the back of my belt, fishing under pant-loops on the way.

—What the hell are you doing, woman? You already know I keep my cash in my front pocket.

—Shut up.

I did. The last time I pissed her off, she moved out of town.

—I found it.

Allie's scream almost deafened me. She put something metallic in my hand. I recognized the handcuff key as it slipped and pinged onto the table.

—Goddammit, Jim, if someone else doesn't get to you first, I'm going to kill you myself the first chance I get.

She wasn't kidding, either. I could tell by the tone in her voice. I let my sticky fingers do the walking.

—Got it.

I held it up triumphantly. She struggled to reach for it with outstretched fingers. She unlatched the only cuff she could reach. I took the key and removed the other three from wrist and ankles. I tried it on her shackles.

—It doesn't fit. You're going to have to stay put. If Zelda is still out there, I'll let her in. That dog has been looking for you almost as hard as I have.

True as that was, I was glad Zelda wouldn't be capable of telling Allie my secrets concerning my one indiscretion with the leggy lawyer. I found the light switch and discovered I had been sharing a butcher block with Barbara. I covered her up one last time after checking for a pulse I couldn't find.

I left the lights on and climbed over the divider into the cab. Zelda didn't even acknowledge me when I opened the door. She breezed past, almost knocked me over, and jumped into the back. She halted at Allie's feet.

Her tail wagged so fast the dog almost forgot to check out the rest of the trailer for fresh scents. She gave the dead Barbara the once over. Satisfied, Zelda went back to Allie and sat down, ears perked and her tail brushed back and forth on the floor.

I don't know who was happier, Zelda, or Allie. I expect Allie would have been if she didn't have those shackles around her ankles.

—I'll be back as soon as I can.

Zelda barked, but I didn't hear Allie say a word. It left me wondering if she didn't believe me. Perhaps she was going to kill me after all.

I couldn't get my ass out of the rig fast enough. I had to find something to cut Allie's chains, and I had to find it fast. I stumbled and almost slid into a gooey mess surrounding a body propped up against the drive wheels.

**Jill didn't look** so well. In fact, she looked downright anemic, surrounded as she was by the pool of blood draining from her midsection. Both hands clutched at her stomach. They were incapable of stemming the flow of blood.

It didn't take a detective to know the mess was caused by Zelda when she lunged at the woman. That must have been the cause of the scream I heard when Zelda went at her.

The dog hadn't missed.

I took a chance and opened the door to the back of the trailer. The bolt cutters that put me into this situation were still sitting inside the door. They were right where I must have dropped them when I took the rap on the head.

I retraced my steps. In thirty seconds, Allie was free. She almost trampled me in her rush to get out of the place.

I can't say that I could blame her.

I wasn't so fast to leave the truck behind. I flipped sun visors and opened storage compartments, searching for anything that would confirm my suspicions about Ron, and where he came from originally. It didn't take long before I discovered a couple of faded photos. I couldn't be certain, but one of the people looked to be my childhood schoolmate, Gordie. He was in his scout uniform.

I pocketed the pictures and went looking for Allie and Zelda.

I didn't have to go far. Zelda raced towards me, stopped, and reversed course. Just for spite, she kept looking back, but the dog didn't have to worry. I was behind her, but only because I couldn't keep up. When I got to Allie, we hugged and kissed. Zelda kept whacking me with her tail, and I figured she was spanking me on account of my earlier misbehavior with some unnamed lawyer.

I already put it behind me.

—What are we going to do now? I called 911 from the restaurant. The cops should be here any time.

—I don't think they'll be showing up.

I explained what Barbara told me about the cops ignoring the hooking going on at the truck stop. I covered off on the police chief and the judge and who owned the property, too.

—So then, you're saying that they won't be coming?

—Oh, they'll show up all right, but I don't think they'll be doing anything to help us real soon now.

—Then we'd better get the hell out while we still can. I need to make a phone call before we put this place in the rear-view mirror.

**I parked the** rental outside the impound lot and managed to talk the desk Sargent into letting me pick up my car. Zelda was smart enough to know that she'd better ride shotgun from the rear seat. Allie collapsed in the front.

—I remember who that son of a bitch Ron is, finally.

Ron sure as hell didn't look anything like the person I knew as a kid. It was a lot of years-and obviously a lot of eating-later. No wonder I didn't recognize the man. When I knew him, he was nine or ten years old. I never saw him again until he had obviously eaten his way into obscurity.

—He's the guy who killed my friend Gordie. It's his brother.

She looked at me.

—What?

—Ron. He's Ron. The brother of my schoolmate. The kid who shot himself. Except he didn't shoot himself. Ron shot Gordie in a misguided attempt to bully him.

She didn't say a word. She only listened.

—Ron must have pointed a loaded .22 at Gordie. Perhaps he made a grab for it and they wrestled. It went off close enough that whoever did the investigation - if there even was one - called it a suicide.

And I hadn't been able to do anything to prevent it. I gave up. I didn't shut up. I wanted to know who Allie called from the restaurant.

—Before you showed up at the business, I met an FBI field agent who chartered a boat for some scuba diving. He's not far from here. When I told him what had happened to us, he listened. In fact, he said they'd had the truck stop under investigation for a couple of months.

—Do we need to hang around?

—Not on your life. We've got a vacation to finish.

As excited as Zelda was at the prospect of continuing the road trip, she knew better than to complain about being relegated to the back seat now that Allie was permanently in control in the front.

**I pointed the** car south and tossed the burn phone out the window. There was still plenty of time left to make the Keys. With Allie snoring in the front and Zelda drooling in the back, I figured I had it made.

I knew better than to mention to Allie that she snored. That would be a secret for me to know and for Zelda to keep.

###

Greetings from Key West

_Allie manages to talk Jim into a vacation in the Keys, where trouble finds them once again when they cross paths with a woman and her little girl being harassed by the locals. It's not long before Zelda's tracking abilities are called upon to restore things as they should be. Third Jim Nash adventure._

**THE POSTCARD RACK** in the shirt shack window caught Allie's attention. Hank, her brother, collected them. When he couldn't lay his hands on the originals, he liked reproductions from the '50s and early '60s.

—Zelda. Stay.

She left the dog sitting on the sidewalk and went in for a better look. She fished in her bag for a list and began perusing the contents of the rack. She looked out the window to check on Zelda. A little girl was happily letting the dog nuzzle her face and lick her fingers.

She returned to the postcard rack, content that Zelda appeared to be in good hands. She made her choices and hoped Hank would approve before she paid and left the shop.

Her mind still wasn't where it should be, given what happened to her and to Jim on the trip down. She couldn't stop thinking about the narrow escape they had. The crazy had been stalking Jim. The man, Ron, had been captured trying to escape in the same tractor-trailer he used to hold both of them prisoner. Her FBI acquaintance told her they found Jill in the back of the cab, strapped down on one of the tables and very much dead.

Allie considered herself lucky to have made it out of that situation alive and in good health. Ditto for her boyfriend and business partner, Jim.

She was expecting Zelda to be where she left her. The dog was well-trained, after all. Surprised when she wasn't, she looked up and down the street. She thought she saw the dog following a little girl, but she was too far away to be certain before they disappeared into the crowd. She wished she had given the girl a better look when she first noticed her petting the dog.

Jim wasn't going to be happy when she told him she lost Zelda to a little girl in the early morning on the already-crowded street. It was the Key's main tourist draw. Rather than give up, she walked the street in both directions. She hoped to catch sight of Zelda in the throng of tourists and lookie-loos doing what she called the mad shuffle back and forth across the street.

Zelda was nowhere to be seen. Allie had no idea where the dog had gotten to, or what to do next. The girl was long gone, too. She doubted she would be capable of recognizing her in the crowded street. She didn't rush back to the inn. She took her time strolling towards it, certain that Zelda would catch up or be waiting for her when she arrived.

The inn was perfect for them. She called ahead to tell them about the dog, and determined that it wouldn't be a problem. By the time Jim checked them in, Zelda had already made a bunch of new friends on the ground floor where their room was located.

Jim was waiting for her, back from his own walk.

—You must have gotten tired of the crush of people. I thought you'd still be in a seat at Sloppy Joe's.

—You were right. It was crowded and noisy. How long have you been coming down here?

Allie and her family were regulars on the tourist circuit known as the Keys.

—Our parents would bring us down when we were kids. It was a ritual visit every year. That's how I know my way around.

—In that case, what's your recommendation for dinner tonight?

She had to tell him about Zelda sooner rather than later.

—Before we do that, we need to be on the lookout for Zelda.

—Zelda? Didn't you leave her outside?

Jim opened the door. Zelda wasn't there to rush in. He turned to Allie and raised an eyebrow.

—I don't know where she is. The last time I saw her, she was outside of the shop making friends with a little girl in a purple shirt. They seem to have disappeared together, because when I turned around to check on her, they were both gone.

—I'll tell the front desk to let her in if she shows up. I'm sure we're worrying about nothing.

Allie walked out front, still worried about the missing Zelda. She waited on the sidewalk in the shade. She hoped it wouldn't be long before the dog came back. If Zelda didn't turn up, and soon, she'd never forgive herself.

By the time Jim joined her in front of the motel, Zelda was already on her way, strutting down the sidewalk towards them. A garland of flowers and a purple scarf adorned her neck. Her tail was held high and waving like a flag flapping in the wind. The dog didn't appear to have a care in the world.

Allie gently scolded Zelda for going missing. The dog waited until she finished and then sat at her feet. Embarrassed, she wouldn't look up. She knew she shouldn't have disappeared with the girl.

When it came time for Zelda to walk with them, she wouldn't leave the inn. In a stubborn mood after her adventure, she lay down and wouldn't get up. Instead, she barked softly and wagged her tail.

—That's a new one on me. I've never seen her do that before.

—Maybe she's feeling guilty about abandoning me this afternoon.

Jim walked back to the dog. She got up and ran in the opposite direction, away from him. The dog stopped and waited, looking back and forth as though expecting them to be following her.

—I think she wants something.

—Let's see where she leads us. Maybe she found a place to have lunch.

Allie rolled her eyes and Jim grinned at her.

—Come on. My other girl is wanting something. I learned a long time ago never to ignore a woman who wants something.

Allie regarded him coyly.

—How long ago, exactly?

—About as long as it took me to learn that she needed to be fed, watered, and walked regularly. Now come on.

They followed the dog for half a dozen blocks. Each time Zelda got too far in front, she turned and trotted back, huffing and puffing and doing a stiff-legged dance in an attempt to hurry them up.

—She obviously found something she wants us to know about.

The dog rounded a corner, sat down, and waited for her masters. When Jim and Allie took the corner, she trotted up to an old van and waited.

—There's a vehicle I'm glad I don't own.

The van was rusted. Paint on the roof and short hood from too many days in burning sun had faded and disappeared a long time ago. A badly-cracked windshield and taped windows took the dilapidated look to the extreme. The door creaked open on rusty tracks and a girl appeared.

—Look, Jim, there's the little girl.

—Are you sure she's the same one?

—Her purple shirt is a giveaway. It's what I noticed when she was petting Zelda. The scarf matches.

That was Zelda's cue to run to the van and accost the girl. She squealed and hugged the dog. A woman's voice inside the van chastised her.

—Lily, we can't afford to feed a dog, too.

Lily adjusted the neckerchief around Zelda's neck. She got down on her knees and hugged her again.

—But she's so sweet. And she likes me. I like her, too, mommy.

Jim knew Allie wasn't capable of ignoring what was going on in the van. She had a soft spot for children. The ragamuffin look this one had would be difficult for her to ignore. Before he could stop her, she approached the girl and went down on one knee.

—Hello. My name is Allie. The dog is Zelda.

Zelda barked and circled around the two of them. Her tail wagged in a happy greeting. A head stuck out of the van.

—Lily, how many times have I told you about strangers?

Allie stood up and quickly introduced herself. The short-haired blonde woman exited the van. Erica hesitated before introducing herself and then reluctantly shook Allie's proffered hand. Immediately she climbed back in and sat down.

The girl chose to stay with Zelda.

**Allie wasn't content** to walk away with Zelda in tow, especially after hearing the woman's comment about food for a dog.

—I'd say our dog is quite taken with your daughter.

—She is, isn't she?

Allie waved at Jim.

—Come and meet Lily and her mother.

He ignored her. The woman stepped out of the van. She maneuvered to place herself between her daughter and the two strangers.

—What do you want? Why did you come here?

Jim approached, finally.

—My partner lost our dog to your daughter earlier in the day. When Zelda came back to the motel on her own, she acted like she wanted us to follow her. This is where she brought us.

A black and white pulled in behind the van. Two officers got out and approached, hands on hips, looking stern and professional.

—We told you yesterday that you couldn't park here any longer. You have to move, or we'll tow you.

To emphasize the point, a tow truck turned the corner and bore down on the gathering.

Ex-cop that he was, Jim looked around for no parking signs.

—I don't see any signage. Is what you're saying a local bylaw? Is there a limit to how long someone can park on city streets?

One of the cops moved a hand to his holster.

—Don't interfere. This is police business.

—It sure is.

Jim took out his camera and walked to position himself to get pictures of the street. There were no signs that restricted parking that he could see. He snapped a couple of photos, added the cars and the two officers for good measure, and returned to the van. He made a show of putting the camera in his front pocket.

—All done. Erica, I think you'd better do as the officers tell you.

The policemen weren't satisfied.

—Which one of you owns the dog?

—She belongs to me.

—There's no tag on her. We could call animal control.

—The tag is covered by the bandana, but why don't you do that? We'll be happy to wait.

The second officer moved his hand to the butt of his service pistol and stepped off to the side.

—By the way, your chief will be pleased to know that this entire conversation has been recorded for the safety of all concerned. What I'd like to know, though, is the specific law that's been broken so I can look it up after a lawyer gets us all out of jail on a technicality. Because, you know, making up fake laws.

Jim figured it wasn't going to go well when he asked if they were pretend cops, too, but before he could do that they beat a hasty retreat to the air conditioned cruiser and departed.

Allie was concerned for the woman and her daughter.

—Is that the way they treat tourists around here? I'd say it's pretty unusual for a tourist town, especially as big a trap as this place is.

Erica ushered Lily into the safety of the van.

—We're used to it. I find a new place and wait for them to show up all over again. Usually my daughter stands watch and lets me know when they're close.

* * *

**ERICA BEGAN CLOSING** up the van. She called for her daughter to join her.

—Say goodbye to the dog, sweetie. We have to go now.

Allie looked at Jim before turning back to the woman.

—Those two looked like a couple of bullies to me. Have you had trouble with them before?

Erica's quick intake of breath and a sob followed tears streaming down her face.

—It's all because of that darned company my husband owned.

Allie stepped into the van and put an arm around her.

—Would you like to talk about it?

—It's not your problem. You probably shouldn't even get involved. You heard the cop. He threatened your dog.

—Where's your husband now?

Allie looked at Jim and motioned for him to look inside the van. Scuba tanks, gear and wet suits were neatly hung on both walls. Bags and boxes were stacked on the floor and piled neatly and in some kind of order.

Erica took a deep breath. Her sobbing stopped.

—My husband owned a small dive shop on Vaca Cay. It wasn't a huge shop, but it was on a pretty big piece of land. A developer wanted to buy it from us. I pleaded with him to let it go. It would have meant enough money for us to bank and live off of for quite a while. He could have picked up free-lance commercial diving jobs to give him something to do.

—He refused to sell?

—Yes. That's when our troubles began.

—You never told us where your husband is.

—He's dead.

Allie looked at Jim. Suddenly he was all ears. He quickly checked on Zelda and Lily. They were playing beneath the shade of the trees on the opposite side of the street. Mostly the little girl was hugging the dog, and Zelda was encouraging it by licking her face.

—What happened?

Erica sucked in enough air to allow her to go on.

—He was on a dive. Something went wrong. His air went bad. Or a line plugged and he couldn't breathe.

—Was there an autopsy?

—Yes. But I couldn't get a copy.

—How about an inquest?

—No. Well, yes, there was one. But it was closed. I couldn't get in to it, either.

Jim paced back and forth outside the van. Allie knew he wasn't happy. She wasn't either by the time Erica finished her story.

—That's strange. I have some experience with coroners. Maybe I could make a few phone calls to try and find out what went on. Would you be all right with that?

Erica sent a blank look in their direction. It didn't appear as though she had much faith in either of them.

—You're a couple of tourists, aren't you?

—We are. But I'm a former coroner. Jim is an ex cop.

Erica's expression changed immediately. It was as though a giant weight had been lifted off of her.

—No promises, but maybe we could talk to some people and come up with something. We have the time. In the meantime, you'd better move the van before the cops come back and tow it.

—You're right. Lily. Come on. It's time for us to go.

—Aw, mommy. Do we have to?

Zelda bounded after the girl as she reluctantly obeyed her mother. The dog jumped in wagging her tail. She turned her happy gaze to Allie and Jim.

—Well, I guess that's solved. It looks like you just adopted a dog. We're staying at the Inn. We'll tell the front desk to expect to hear from you.

Lily jumped in beside Zelda and hugged her. Zelda woofed. Erica slid the door closed. The van disappeared around a corner.

Jim looked at Allie and shook his head.

—Did I just give my faithful dog away? We're asking for trouble, aren't we?

—I figure if she moves the van to come and see us, it'll keep her from staying in one spot and getting hassled by the local PD. I wonder what they have to do with that piece of property on Vaca Cay.

—What are you suggesting?

—I'm thinking there's more to this than a parking violation.

**The sun finished** hovering over the Gulf and was already dipping below the horizon when Allie led Jim in the direction of the dock. She took his hand and led him past couples and families and singles intent on observing the sun's disappearance.

They mingled with exhibitors and street performers and the hundreds of others there to do the same thing. They waited to hear the sound of the conch putting the sun to bed over the Gulf of Mexico.

—Someone is watching us. Look for a man in a red shirt.

Allie slowly did a tourist turn to watch the excitement of the goings-on on the busy pier. Finally, she spotted him.

—There's two of them. He's talking to someone in a blue shirt.

Allie turned back to the ceremony.

—I could be wrong, but I think one of them is a cop from this afternoon. I wonder why they're so interested in us. Do you think it could have anything to do with befriending Erica and her daughter?

Jim took her hand and pulled her in the direction of the inn.

—Come on. It's time to go.

—But we haven't seen the show yet.

—We can watch it tomorrow.

He made sure they walked towards the two men. He halted as he recognized one of them. He didn't want to get closer.

—You were right. One of them is the cop. I wonder who his buddy is.

The men knew they had been made. They separated and disappeared in the crowd of onlookers.

—We'll never find them in this mess of humanity. Let's go home.

It took them ten minutes to walk to the Inn.

—Go to the front desk, Allie.

—What? Why?

—Our door is open. Go on. Do it now.

Jim eased the door wide and peered into the room. Suitcases, clothes and furniture were scattered and torn. Someone was looking for something. Since they were there on vacation, he had no idea what it could be.

—Well, we're definitely on somebody's radar. And it's probably because those two cops witnessed us talking to Erica. I'd sure like to know what they were looking for.

—Maybe someone thinks we know about Erica's husband and what happened to him.

—Well, we do know about Erica's husband. What we don't know is what happened to him. Do you think your coroner in Miami might know something about the investigation?

—Sometimes smaller jurisdictions will call in expertise when they don't have anyone locally.

—Then it's time for you to make that call. By any chance is he a guy you used to date?

Exasperated now, she put her hands on her hips and gave him a look.

—Are you trying to play the jealousy card?

—Yeah. No. I just figured that might help Erica's cause if it was.

—Yes, I used to date him. No, I don't plan on making out with him. I'm only going to be asking if he knows anything.

—In that case, what do you say we get a new room and make out ourselves?

—In that case, you'd better get your detective butt over to our old room and collect our belongings as fast as you can. I'm going to make the arrangements.

**Allie waited in** the lobby to book their new room. Reception smiled at her, checked the computer, and then frowned.

—We don't seem to have any rooms left. We'll comp you for the damages. Would that be all right?

The manager smiled sweetly and proceeded to ignore Allie as she picked up the phone and dialed. Allie hesitated outside for a second. Through the open door she overheard the desk clerk tell someone on the other end that she'd kept them on the ground floor in the same room even though others were available.

If that was the case, why were they being kept in the same room? It didn't make any sense. She wondered if they should check out and find another place, then thought better of it. Everywhere else was probably booked.

Jim was half-way through tossing clothes into suitcases. He didn't notice nor hear the door swing open. The lead sap connected with the back of his neck. He went down for the count and stayed that way until Allie pushed open the door and entered the dark room.

—Jim? Are you here? Where are you?

A loud groan answered her. She flicked a light switch and helped him up.

—Are you all right?

He rubbed the back of his neck.

—I will be when we can put Key West in our rear-view mirror. Until that happens, someone is going to pay.

—Come on. You need a shower.

She helped him strip off his clothes and led him into the bathroom.

—What are you waiting for?

—I don't think you should even be in the mood.

He grinned.

—I'm definitely not, but I can still look, can't I?

Once in bed, Allie kept up a steady stream of questions.

—Did you get a look at him?

—No. I didn't even hear him.

—Do you think it could have been one of the men from the dock?

—It could have. I don't know for sure.

—What do you think they were looking for when they searched the room?

—Well, we've been witnessed talking to Erica. Someone obviously thinks that we're in the process of having something to do with what happened to her husband and his property. Why they would think that, I have no idea.

—They're intent on scaring us off for sure. I'm starting to think that there just might be something to Erica's claims after all.

He snuggled against Allie's warm back.

—With the headache I have, I'm not thinking about anything until tomorrow. Sweet dreams and don't forget to put a chair against the door.

—Isn't that your job?

—Normally, I'd say yes, but in my present condition, I think you should do it.

Jim closed his eyes, sighed and fell asleep. Allie stumbled out of bed in the dark, stubbed her toe and propped a chair under the doorknob. She didn't go back to bed right away.

She turned on a light and opened up a road map of Florida. She wanted an idea about what could be so valuable about a piece of property on Vaca Cay and how it might relate to Erica's story.

**The door handle** twisted and bumped against the chair. Allie went on full alert. Someone was pulling and pushing, trying to force it open. She whispered to Jim, out cold and snoring. He wasn't going to be any help. She'd have to depend on her own resources.

She turned out the light, grabbed a lamp, and waited. There it was again. Someone kept trying to get in.

—Allie? Allie? Are you there?

A dog barked, followed by knocking on the door.

—Who is it? Erica? Is that you? Zelda?

Zelda barked.

—Yes. Open up. Please.

Allie opened the door wide and Zelda, Lily and her mother fought to get through the door at the same time. Zelda won by slipping past all the legs. Erica slammed the door and replaced the chair behind her.

—What's wrong? Oh my god. Who did that to you?

Erica's bloody face sported a black eye.

—One of the cops from this afternoon.

—Come into the bathroom.

Allie soaked a towel and handed it to her.

—Was he wearing a red shirt?

—Yes. How did you know?

Allie told her what they saw on the dock and about the room search.

—So now you're a part of what's been happening to me. I'd better start at the beginning. Do you have time right now?

Zelda jumped up on the bed and lay down beside Jim. Lily crawled in beside the dog and pulled the bedspread over all three of them.

—You bet I do.

Erica sighed, happy now that she had someone who believed in her.

—Then I won't leave anything out.

* * *

**BY THE TIME** Jim woke, daylight was already illuminating the room. The air conditioner hummed beneath the curtains. Only Lily and Zelda remained behind. The dog wagged her tail and barked as she waited for her master to rise and shine and open the door. She snuffled up and down the sidewalk, jumping back and forth as she followed a scent.

Lily trailed behind, concerned about her mother and Allie both. She looked to Zelda for support.

—Do you think they'll be all right? Who would want to hurt them?

Finally, Jim opened the door.

—Did both of you come here last night? What happened?

—Somebody beat up my mom. She came to get help from you. You promised her you'd help. Are you going to help us?

Lily nervously shifted from side to side as she looked up hopefully at Jim.

—Of course I am, Lily. My word is gold. So is Allie's. And so is Zelda's, in case you haven't noticed.

Zelda stayed busy running back and forth, trying to get the duo to follow her. Jim had no idea where to start looking for the women. Then he remembered. The police.

—They'll be fine, Lily. Don't worry. Whoever met with them only wants to ask questions.

He wasn't so sure, but he had an idea.

—Good girl, Zelda. Take me to her. Take me to Allie.

She stopped at an empty parking stall. Whoever had taken her must have loaded her into a car.

—Come on, ladies.

Lily and Zelda looked up at him.

—We're going to the police station. I think we have a job for law enforcement.

Either that, or he was certain the women were in separate interview rooms, being questioned about their culpability in one made-up infraction or another.

A thick marine layer enveloped the town as Jim, accompanied by Lily and Zelda, made their way in the direction of the local police station. He tried ignoring the man following them and instead concentrated on finding his way in the fog.

As they drew closer to their destination, Zelda began getting more excited. She danced and leaped and ran back and forth. Suddenly, she deserted them and ran off to sit down at the building's back door.

Jim and Lily followed.

—Is she in there, girl? Is she?

Zelda barked and Lily hugged her.

—I think my mom might be in there, too.

Jim put his arm around Lily and gave her a hug.

—I think you might be right about that. Let's go see. Come on, Zelda.

The three made their way towards the front of the building.

—You can't bring a dog in here.

—Why not?

—It's against the rules.

Jim looked at Lily and rolled his eyes. She grinned up at him.

—Come on, Zelda. Little girls with dogs aren't allowed to report crimes in this town.

The cop behind the desk perked up.

—What's this about a crime?

Lily rushed up to the high desk towering over her. Zelda brought up the rear and woofed support for Lily as the desk cop stood up and peered down at the little girl.

—Yes?

—My mom is missing. Are you going to take a report, or are you going to throw me and my dog out into the street?

Jim took a step back and took a fresh look at the girl. So far, she was handling herself pretty well on her own without help from him. He decided to let her do the talking while he dispatched Zelda on a mission.

The desk cop looked at Jim.

—What's the girl's name?

—It's Lily, but she can speak for herself. Why don't you ask her?

The cop walked out from behind the desk and asked them to follow him. Jim looked around for the telltale windows fronting on interrogation rooms. He saw two. Immediately he figured there was a women he knew in each of them.

—Is there a restroom I can use?

The cop waved an arm. It took him past both rooms. He paused at each, looked through the glass, and caught one of the cops he'd seen yesterday with Allie. The second room held Erica. There was a lot of yelling going on behind that glass.

He pretended to ignore it and instead directed his attention towards the man who followed them from the Inn. Apparently, he knew the cop in the room with Allie.

Jim followed the man out of the building and chased him down to the docks. He lost sight of him in the pea-soup fog and decided to retrace his steps. Suddenly, he recognized Zelda's bark and he chased after it until the three of them crossed paths. Zelda, who he now thought of as the best dog ever, had the man cornered in a back alley.

—Call her off of me. Don't let her bite.

—Come on, Zelda. Be nice to the man.

Zelda stopped barking, reversed course and sat down at Jim's feet. He frisked the man and went through his pockets. He came up with a wallet and a sap. The leather and lead sap was just like the one he kept tucked in the waist of his pants. His neck and head began aching all over again at the sight of it.

—Who are you?

—I'm a private dick.

—Who are you working for?

—I can't tell you that. It's called client confidentiality.

Jim didn't hesitate.

—Zelda! Come here.

The dog rushed over to the man. He made to hug the fence in the alley. He made like he would have climbed over it if he could.

—Don't let her near me. I don't want to get bit.

—Then you'd better start talking.

—You'll get me killed.

—That's your problem, isn't it? Perhaps in future you'll be more careful about who hires you. Talk or I'll walk you to the end of that pier and make you swim.

—Who's the woman you're with? And why did she call the coroner in Miami?

That was an entirely new one on Jim. He and Allie had talked about it, but he wasn't aware she had actually called yet.

—That's none of your business. Are you working with the cop?

—He does some part-time for me, yes.

—What's your connection to the cop and the woman with the little girl that he keeps rousting?

—My client wouldn't like it if I talked about that.

—Zelda!

Zelda growled on command, like the good dog she was. Jim couldn't believe it. He had a female that finally listened to him. If Allie ever found out he thought that way, he knew he'd be grounded in an instant.

—All right. All right. I'll talk.

Jim allowed the man to finish. He thanked him by tapping him on the back of the head with the borrowed sap. He tucked it into the pocket on his pants where he usually kept his own. He led Zelda back to the cop shop, hoping he wouldn't be too late to spring the women and Lily.

When he walked in the door, the desk sergeant punched a button and three officers surrounded him with drawn weapons.

—It looks like you're going to be spending some time with us, dickwad. March yourself down the hall and close the door on the cell at the end of it.

—Whatever you say, boys. Oh, and don't forget my phone call. I'll be needing to make one of those. I trust you've let the two women you hauled in here last night make their own calls if they're not free to go and are being detained.

—Don't be a smartass. You'll do what we tell you to do or face the consequences.

Jim stopped mid-step. The officers behind him bumped along like Keystone cops.

—Tell your clowns that they don't have enough experience or guts to answer to the high-priced lawyer I'm going to call in Miami. In fact, if you don't stop playing at being a police department and start doing your jobs, you're going to be in one deep pile of crap. And it won't be Zelda's.

The cops took turns looking at one another. _Who's Zelda?_ silently crossed more than a few of pairs of lips.

**Jim still didn't** know if the women had been released, or were still being held. A good Samaritan must have stuffed the envelope under the mattress in his cell. The contents caused him to have more questions than he had answers.

He flipped through the documents. From what he could tell, the property on Vaca Cay was owned by Erica's husband. Someone had provided a notarized copy of the actual deed. As his wife, unless he had another one, or unless he had a will to the contrary, Erica should have ended up as the property owner on her husband's death.

At least now he had a chain of ownership. He continued flipping through the papers. By the time he finished, he was as confused as when he started.

There was no title transfer. At least, none had been included in the papers he had in his hand. He wondered if whoever put it there had left it out on purpose. He changed his mind when he couldn't figure out why they would do that, considering everything else they included.

Could whoever had taken over the property have forced Erica off of it without paying her for it or transferring it into their name? Surely no one could be that stupid these days.

Jim tucked the papers under his shirt and sat down to reconsider the stupidity of crooks and liars. As an ex-cop, that was nothing new to him. It had been his experience that people were actually that stupid.

With nothing to do, Jim lay back on his cot, fully intending to doz off. It made killing time go faster. It was also a method he used in the past to help him come up with ideas for solutions to some of his cases. He began thinking his way through the problems associated with this one.

A door slammed and woke him from his reverie. He came to from a dreamlike trance, wondering where he was. When he spied the tattoo-covered bruisers looking at him with a mix of hatred and glee, he knew he was in for a beating.

His hand moved to the truncheon tucked in the waistband of his pants. Knowing it was there reassured him. He swung his legs to the floor and waited. He was a step ahead of the goons. He knew why the pair were in the cell.

The word dumbasses crossed his mind, and he put it out of his thoughts just as quickly as it appeared. He thanked his lucky stars that the cops who slammed him into the cell were so intent on leaving him with a message that they hadn't frisked him.

He did a quick check for cameras and settled back on the cot, satisfied there were none. He and waited for the shit to hit the fan. It turned out to be a short wait.

—Are you the cop?

Both men stood over him with fists clenched and feet spread.

—Ex-cop to you.

A left arm went up and moved to come down on top of his head. Jim ducked, rolled back on the cot, and brought up his knees. He slipped onto the floor. He stood up behind the muscle, raised the sap and got in a quick snap to the back of a head.

The second turned rapidly and assumed a boxer's position, arms held high, knees bent. Jim flicked the sap to bend around a fist and the satisfying snap of a broken wrist brought a wry grin to his face.

—Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?

Jim pushed the goon backwards. He tripped over his buddy's body and fell. He tried to break the fall with a broken wrist and landed on top of his buddy. An agonizing wail reached out to the rest of the building.

Cops came running, yelling and cursing as they arrived.

—We told you not to hurt him too much.

The running came to a sudden stop when they recognized Jim standing over the two men. The sap lay on the floor where he dropped it.

—Next time, send someone capable of doing the job. That certainly isn't these two pussies. Are they on the department payroll as cops, or robbers?

**Jim was unceremoniously** escorted to building's back door. Someone gave him a shove and he ended up in the alley and into the waiting paws of Zelda. Barking and shuffling back and forth the entire time, she led him to the van populated by the three women. She sat down at his feet, huffing and snuffling as she waited for her reward.

He pulled the papers out of his waistband and handed them over to Erica.

—You need to look at these. Come on, Allie and Lily. Your mom needs some time to digest some things.

Jim exited the van with the girls.

—What's in the papers?

—It seems that title to the Vaca Cay property in question was never transferred out of her husband's name.

Allie was ecstatic, both for Erica and her daughter, Lily.

—Are you kidding me? You mean she still owns the property?

—Well, unless there's a paper trail somewhere, that's how it looks to me.

Erica joined them on the sidewalk.

—I don't think I should do this here. I need to go to Marathon to the property office there. Will you come with me?

Jim looked over at Allie.

—Why not? What's a couple more hours? We'll get to see the sights with someone who knows the history of the area.

—I'm all ears. Let's go.

She opened the door to the front seat. Zelda beat her to it and would have yelled shotgun if she could. Lily jumped in beside her and hugged the black Lab.

—It looks like we've been relegated to the back. Come on.

* * *

**JIM ADJUSTED HIS** position in the van to get a clear view through the rear window. He rearranged dive equipment and fashioned a seat. A black and white tailed the van. They crossed the city line and it dropped back as they continued to Marathon and the County Clerk's office. Ten miles later, well past the Marathon limits, the police car halted and turned around.

—Whatever it is we don't know about is sure giving someone a headache.

Allie agreed.

—It's probably a good thing we're checking the records somewhere else. I'm thinking that whoever we're upsetting has an ear at the local clerk's office and a direct line to whoever is pulling the strings.

Erica concentrated on her driving while Lily happily sang along to the radio. She interrupted her serenade for a question.

—Do you think we'll get our old house back, mommy?

—I don't know, dear. We'll see when we get a look at the papers in the clerk's office.

**The gunfire began** the minute Erica exited the building. Jim jumped out of the van and dragged her to cover behind nearby vehicles. Three more shots rang out followed by silence. Together they ran to the van and climbed in.

—Well, now we know officially. That the property is still yours.

Erica pulled out a sheaf of notarized photocopies.

—Not only that, but my husband registered it in my name only a week before he died.

Allie couldn't halt the smile spreading over her face.

—So then, it is all yours. That should answer any of your questions. I'm still waiting for a callback from my coroner friend in Miami. Until I do, I won't be able to give you an update on the autopsy results or the inquiry.

Erica tucked the papers away.

—Should we continue on to Miami, or head back? What do you think, Jim?

—I think we should head back and stop in Vaca Cay for a look-see at what you and your daughter own. What do you say to that?

Lily was beside herself.

—Yes, mommy. Let's take them home and make supper for all the good work they did for us.

—Honey, I don't think we'll be able to get onto the property. It's been fenced off.

—We need to at least take a look, Erica. It will help explain why anyone wants it in the first place and perhaps why they're willing to do anything to get their hands on it, don't you think?

It took Erica only an instant to agree.

—We're on our way, but first I need to stop and fill up.

Erica pulled up to the pumps. Lily jumped out and closed the door on Zelda, trapping her in the van. She fed the nozzle into the tank.

Jim and Allie headed for the coffee machine with Erica.

—I can't believe that my husband filed the papers to put the property in my name. I would have thought he wouldn't have to do that since we were married.

—Maybe he had an idea on what would be coming at you. Perhaps he thought that would be the best way to put you on the deed as sole owner.

—He's right, Erica. Whoever was putting pressure on him wouldn't know until the records were updated. They probably weren't even watching for something like that.

—You're right. I'm glad we finally have a paper trail.

The nozzle was still in the tank when they exited the building. Zelda was barking up a storm in the van. Lily was nowhere to be seen.

—Oh my god. Do you think they took her?

**Jim waved Allie** over to the red stain on the ground by the gas pump. She bent to check it.

—It's not blood.

—You'd better get Erica out of here until we figure out what the hell is going on.

—It looks like someone has taken Lily to force her mother into signing over the property.

—That doesn't surprise me, given the shots fired at the clerk's office and what went on with her husband. Someone is either awfully stupid, or exceedingly intent on causing as much harm as they can in order to force Erica to do what they want her to.

—They couldn't have gone far. What are we going to do?

—First we need to get a look at the property. Grab Erica and load her into the van. I'll drive. She can show us where to go.

They loaded the distraught woman and pulled in behind the gas-and-go.

—Erica, someone obviously wants to force you to sign over that property. They've taken your daughter to make sure you do it. They won't hurt her. She's too important to them to do that.

—Are you sure, Jim? She's all I've got. I can't lose her.

—They're using her. We'll find her. Now take us to your property. We need to see what's on it and why everyone seems to think it's so valuable.

Erica directed them to the site. An older beach house on stilts sat on half an acre of prime ocean-front property. Two hotels in various stages of construction bordered on either side of the property.

—Well, I think we know now what's going on. I can see why your husband signed over the land to you if he was being threatened.

—Hang on, everyone.

Jim crashed the van through the fence and stopped at the entrance to the house. Security guards from both properties approached. Jim reached into the back of the van and came up with a mini-gun and an arrow. He managed to get out of the van and cock it before the guards arrived.

—Well now, gentlemen. What appears to be the problem?

The men eyed Jim and the charged spear gun. They knew better than to challenge him.

—This property is closed. You're trespassing.

—That can't be so. I have the owner's title to the property, and it shows the owner's name. The name on the deed is the name of the woman in my van.

He gestured to the two women.

—It seems we have a Mexican standoff going on here. How about if you call the authorities to get this straightened out? We plan on having a barbecue on the property tonight, and you're holding up the tailgater.

Jim smiled at the two men.

—Oh, and by the way, you're both invited if you can fit it into your schedule. Maybe you could let me know who to call so that I can get the time off for you.

The men moved off and began whispering. One pulled out a cell phone and waited for someone to pick up on the other end. The second walked back to the construction site.

Allie hung up her own phone.

—I just had a callback from my Miami contact. He assured me that the inquest came up with ruptured rubber seals on the fittings. It appears that the seals were altered to fail. From what they had to go on, they weren't able to determine who did the deed.

—So he was murdered. No wonder whoever is guilty wants that woman gone.

Erica exited the van and pointed.

—I think I just heard Lily calling.

Allie let the dog out of the van. Zelda bounded onto the sand, raised her snout, and sniffed at the air.

—Zelda should be able to find your daughter. They've spent so much time together, she'll pick up the scent if she's here.

Jim grabbed the keys out of the ignition.

—Come on, everyone. Follow that dog.

Zelda took off, leaving behind a cloud of beach sand as she galloped off. She made for the construction site. Before long, she was forced to wait for the two-legged much slower humans behind her. When they caught up, she barked and kept on going.

She dug a passage under the fence and proceeded to enter the building through an opening. Once inside, she began to bark steadily. The dog growled, a man screamed, and out of sight all hell broke loose. Three men exited, running as fast as they could with Zelda hot on their trail.

Eventually, she stopped, looked in the direction of Jim and the women, and ran back into the building. She came out with Lily gripping her collar. The girl let go of the dog when she saw her mother. She ran to crawl though the passageway Zelda dug under the fence. She hugged the dog as she joined her on the other side.

—I knew you'd find me.

Zelda licked her face.

—Zelda. I love you, too.

Lily patted the dog and hugged her tight. Tears streamed down Erica's face. Allie couldn't help but join in the emotion of the moment.

—Let's recap if we can, shall we?

Jim shook his head and looked at Allie.

—Don't look at me. You're the detective.

—Retired, don't you know.

—Come on, spit it out for us lesser mortals.

—Well, we've got a murder committed by someone who wants the property that he or she thought was still in Lily's father's name. The man knew something was up and transferred it directly to his wife and to Lily.

—Erica, did you know Lily's name was on the transfer papers too?

She nodded.

—I realized it after I took a second look at the papers.

—Okay. So they ousted you from your own land after the death, thinking that everything had been done to ensure that they now owned the property. And a valuable property it would be, too, seeing as it's located between two resort hotels under construction.

Jim walked everyone back to the van.

—When they had Erica and Lily convinced they were homeless, all they had to do was run her out of town. The perpetrators made sure to involve who they knew at the local PD and get them to do the dirty work.

Lily gripped Zelda's collar.

—And then Zelda came along to help us.

The girl enveloped Zelda in another huge hug. Zelda didn't miss out on the opportunity to lick her face. Lily giggled.

—Yes, she did, didn't she?

**Jim knew he** couldn't stop now. He had to keep going. There were too many loose ends.

—There's still a few things we need to find out. Who's fronting the operation? Who killed Erica's husband? And who's responsible for the harassment we've all been experiencing?

Allie pulled Jim aside and whispered.

—Is there any chance that Erica could have murdered her husband? There's no doubt that she has the knowledge about the diving equipment. The inquiry confirmed that it was seals that were tampered with.

—We both know from past experience anything is possible. But since meeting her living in a van with her daughter I wouldn't think so. Who would do that while sitting on a valuable property surrounded by two hotels?

—You're right. I didn't get that vibe either. Especially since the local PD and its officers are involved in the harassment we witnessed.

—Don't be so fast to convict the department. It could be that it's only a couple of locals who are trying to make a little extra cash by strong-arming a woman.

—Could be is right. I'm thinking they're all one and the same. And the police department has been dragged into it and is definitely involved. Look at how that cruiser followed us, even past the city limits.

—We need to put our tailgate party on hold until we find out who's behind everything. These two won't be safe until we do.

**Jim took another** look at the deeds.

—Allie, is there any chance that these papers could be forged? In particular, the date it was recorded?

—It's possible. The system has been computerized. It wouldn't take much for someone to go into the file and do the editing to make it say whatever they wanted it to say.

—Which would mean that Erica wouldn't be the owner after all.

Jim shook his head.

—I didn't think it could be something that simple. Come on, we're going back to the registry office. The local one. That has to be where it all began.

By the time Jim and Allie exited the registry office, they knew what and who was behind the scare tactics. A huge hotel conglomerate wanted all of the land to build their hotels. All of the property owners had been against it from the start. Eventually, they all sold, except for Erica's husband.

He became convinced six months later by a fast-talking lawyer. He sold the land, and took shares in the corporation. Unfortunately, through no fault of his own, the underfunded corporation declared bankruptcy, and he got stuck with some of the liabilities.

—It's all worthless paper now. And you don't own anything of value, Erica. It's been bled dry.

—Then why are those people harassing me?

Allie put her arm around the woman.

—It's because they fell for the paperwork the same way we did. Once they find out the truth, they'll be done with you in a hurry. And the sooner that happens, the better.

**Jim made sure to** leave copies of the titles at the police station. He was pretty certain they'd get passed on to the ringleaders. There was nothing more he felt he could do.

Allie was the one who wasn't finished.

—Jim, I've talked to Harry about Erica and her qualifications as a dive instructor. He checked her out, and she's legit.

He knew what was coming next.

—The two of you have been talking about expanding the business for a while. Does this mean Erica has a job offer?

—She'll have one when I talk to her about it.

It didn't come as a complete surprise that Erica accepted the challenge of a new job in Panama Crossing. Lily came on board with nary a bit of hesitation. Her only condition was that she get to play with Zelda.

Zelda looked happy, too. She sat down. Her tail thumped against the ground in a steady rhythm. Her gaze shifted from one to the other in quick succession.

—Well then. I guess we're ready for the long drive home.

—Yes we are, aren't we, Lily? The sooner we can put all of this behind us, the better for my daughter and for me.

Zelda jumped into the van's passenger seat to ride shotgun. Lily got in the back. Jim and Allie took the ride back to the Inn, checked out, and headed up the two-vehicle convoy that would lead to hearth and home.

###

More by P X Duke

Twisted Sisters

Detective Jim Nash has a problem. He has a murder victim in an alley and a dead woman in his bed. His own homicide division wants to charge him with murder. To say he's got serious commitment problems would be an understatement. He's on the lookout for twins, but he doesn't want to date them. He wants to know who murdered them. Three modern pulp short stories.

Dreams Die Fast

Frank is headed home after spending a long winter on the Baja. When his motorcycle breaks down, he's trapped in an old ghost town on the west side of the Salton Sea. A woman takes pity on Frank and invites him over for a home-cooked meal. Before he knows it, Frank is knee-deep in cartel drugs with a woman itching to pull the trigger on the gun she's pointing at his back.

Dreams Die Hard

Frank is back on the road with a reformed junkie on the run from a cartel hit squad riding bitch on the back of his motorcycle. When the duo end up working at a strip club, the seedy edge of the city finally catches up, forcing Frank to dig deep within to triumph over drugs, greed, arson and murder. Some adult content.

Dreams Never Die

Frank finally gets his reward when the love of his life decides she wants more of him.

Fast Food Slow Waitress

A biker hits all the high spots (or the low spots, depending on your point of view). These short stories find him at a peeler bar off the 15 in Montana; encountering a hitch-hiker off the 10 in New Mexico; being sweet-talked by his landlady; romancing a truck-driving sweetheart in a sleeper at a California truck stop; flirting with a waitress in a restaurant in the high desert. This is an updated and revised version of First Time and other stories previously published.

Dead Reckoning

During a well-deserved R&R on mainland Mexico, Harry picks up something he doesn't own that forces him to flee across the Sea of Cortez to the Baja. While hiding out on an isolated beach, two mysterious _gringas_ show up to complicate Harry's life by attempting to implicate him in their own scheme, resulting in a mad dash up the Baja to escape the consequences of their actions. First in a series

Long Way Home

When Harry's ex-wife, Sasha, and their daughter accompany her oil-company boyfriend on a working vacation to Africa, the trio goes missing. They get out a call for help that will lead Harry on an air and ground chase across the Horn of Africa to rescue his family before kidnappers can move them to their den on the Indian Ocean. Second in a series.

Out of the Past

Harry's comfortable family life is turned upside down when he gets a phone call from a former comrade he thought long dead. When the second call comes in an hour later, the caller asks for his help. He knows his life will never be the same until he can learn what happened to the woman who launched a rescue mission to save his life after his plane was destroyed during a firefight on a bush landing strip in East Africa. Third in a series.

About the author

Aviator. Motorcycle rider. Vagabond. Drifter. Trouble-maker. Jack of all trades and master of none. I've been riding and writing about the places I've been and the people I've seen for many years now. Some of my writing is factual; some of it isn't. I leave it up to the reader to decide which of my lies are in fact the truth.

http://pxduke.com

author@pxduke.com

