

DEATH

OF

THE

ZOMBIES

by

KARL TUTT

Smashwords Edition

2020

Copyright Karl Tutt 2020

All rights reserved without limiting the copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, brands, characters, places, media and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction which might have been used without permission. The publication use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Thanks to Carolyn, my reader and editor who is kind and generous with her patience and attention.

Prologue

They came again after midnight . . . the bloody faces. Three of them already gone . . . the last one moaning, wailing, jerking in violent death throes. The shrapnel had done its job. The Humvee lay on its side, the wheels still spinning slowly as the sticky crimson seeped into the dirty sand. The driver had gotten the worst of it. His left arm lay across his chest . . . at least what was left of it. His shoulder had been severed just above the bicep, the muscle shredded like a side of beef being hacked into slabs for the market.

She saw the white of bones that had exploded into pink shards sinking further into an unforgiving earth. His lifeless eyes stared, his lips oozing life fluids. They were slightly parted in a plea for reason, maybe a last grasp at survival. Why this? Why me? They told me I was a hero. Where are you, My God?

The other three bodies were broken, shattered, contorted like abandoned puppets that had been tormented, then cast aside . . . hideous sacrifices to some nameless demon. IED . . . perhaps the worst of 100 ways to die in this Godforsaken land. . . leaving stained misshapen forms who had been no more than boys.

She'd seen it before, but now they rose, the Zombies of her nightmares, her hallucinations . . . what had been her realities. They beckoned to her with hands and fingers devoid of flesh. Their mouths gaped, but no sounds except the maw of crows . . . laughing, mocking . . . their red tongues darting in and out like spikes trying to pierce the putrefying flesh . . . a thing soon to ripen and stink as it baked in a sunless sky.

The things had come before. She bounded off the wringing sheets. But I am no longer there . . . I did my two tours . . . I am home. The wraiths should to be in their graves. They weren't. What could she do? Where was the solace, the closure ? Who could she call?

The psychiatrist, the anti-depressants, the Xanax, even the booze had helped . . . but the haunting didn't stop. It pumped into a black emotional abyss like a demented child poking a dirty finger into an open sore.

It was hers.

Chapter One

They called it PTSD, a seemingly innocuous tag . . . a toothless thing to be endured, and . . . after a time . . . merely an inconvenience, a distant memory to be submerged into the darkness and ultimately ignored . . . unless it was you. And it was. Raina had earned it. Trained as Medic, the U.S. Army had taught her two things . . . how to save lives . . . and how to end them. She was good at both.

She had been home for three years, but still the incubus invaded her. A sudden sound, the backfire from a bike, even the slam of a door, the sight of blood in any image, the news of the endless wars that infected the planet, the death of a child. Any of them cast her into the pits of hell . . . the places where the Zombie rules . . . violent, relentless, seeking mounds of flesh, reeking with the rotten smell of death and ever stumbling forward . . . no redemption, no justification, no moral rationale, just the hollow thrill and excitement of destruction of all that was human. She ran her hands through her thick mahogany tresses. It clung to her fingers, damp with sweat . A sour odor oozed from her skin. She inhaled it and a sickness came over her, wrapping her in nausea.

Raina trusted no one. She struggled, praying for some sort of oblivion, but it was impossible. No confidants, no real friends, only the company of the damned and the pitiful few she sought, if only to hear a voice emanate through lungs and reveal a heart that was mortal, that pumped through a body . . . and even a soul.

And now Su Jin was gone, the small raven haired beauty . . . the one with the golden skin and brown eyes like peaceful bottomless pools. She had come close to becoming a friend . . . but if not quite that, at least a companion who she could count on for brief, but important moments of safety, even comfort. She'd disappeared with no trace. Su Jin had worked beside Raina at the hospital, ever vigilant and faithful . . . comforting the aging patients, a constant presence in the Hospice Ward, a skilled hand that healed and brought the breath of a God who soothed and forgave. An angel . . . that's how Raina thought of her. But that angel had folded into the night.

When Su Jin didn't show up for her morning shift, Raina called . . . then again, but the plod of the fruitless ring echoed in her ear, and sent a sense of loss and terror into her ears. It wasn't like Su. It had been three days now. Her Korean angel was always on time and ready. Raina would wait. She had known from the start that the girl was an illegal. Forged papers. Su had family in Miami and a five year old, Luisa, who had a laugh infused with music, and skin like burnished porcelain. Su Jin doted on the child and worshiped her. Raina had kept her a few times when Su Jin had gone to Miami for family emergencies. There had to be answer, maybe in that . . . maybe a problem with her mother or father. Perhaps the child was sick, but then the hospital would know. Raina fought the sense of dread. She popped a Xanax. It would help until her friend surfaced.

Except she didn't.

The nightmares got worse. The terrors swelled and threatened to burst like viscous tumors in her body and her soul. She had to find her, maybe even a rescue like the ones she had undertaken in Afghanistan, but she felt no strength, no power. She was helpless and it pounded and pressed into her like a massive beast that was squeezing and sucking her very life's breath. Sure, it was a long shot, but there was one from her past. She had trusted him then . . . why not now? She hadn't seen him in years, but she knew where he was, and who he was. She saw no alternative. She had to visit the Ghostcatcher.

Chapter Two

The rays of the sun were hot and they baked and pierced the leathery brown skin on his back and shoulders. He'd always been meticulous about maintenance on his O'Day 31, KAMALA. She rocked gently in her slip at the Key West Marina. It was quiet and peaceful . . . just the way he liked it. He'd decided to retire and live on what he thought of as an old and trusted friend. The memories of his murdered friend Martin had faded somewhat and the other injustices and tragedies he'd investigated since his arrival were in a cloud . . . one that he rued, but dismissed as episodes in a life that had been interesting, and often challenging. Perhaps he'd been of some use, but that was for others to determine.

And then there was Sunny, his beautiful significant other, one more refugee from a real world that often bled the life out of its sometimes reluctant participants. She was still tending bar at The Green Parrot, one of Key West's most honest drinking establishments. The boss loved her. The locals loved her. And so did the Ghostcatcher, one T.K. Fleming, former English Professor, sometimes author, jack-leg musician, and dedicated boat bum.

The girl came walking down the dock, dark hair shimmering in the sun. She looked vaguely familiar, but then so did everyone else in the small village. She looked good in the denim cut-offs and the red tank top, moving jauntily, a picture of health and robust sensuality. He glanced again, but thought little of it. Girls like this were half the population in Key West . . . maybe the better half. Then she spoke. He shook his head and put the rag in his hand down on the deck. She stopped at the bow and he studied her for a moment. Then he smiled.

"Raina. How are you? How long has it been? Come aboard. Time for a cold beer and a little catching up. Didn't even know you were in the Keys."

"Been here a while. I've read a couple of your books, figured I'd find you down here."

T.K. feigned a courtly bow and waved her on board. She produced a grin and felt something warm began to fill her up. She stepped onto the deck and eased down into the cockpit. T.K. retrieved a couple of beers and sat opposite her. He'd been Raina's professor back in North Carolina. Sincere and earnest as a student, but one with a heart that she often carried on her sleeve. She been in ROTC and he remembered her enlistment after graduation. He questioned it at the time, but she was a adult. She wanted to serve, to contribute, to be a purveyor of something noble and simply right. That, he respected and honored.

They filled in some blanks, her medical training, her brief marriage, and finally some of the darkness. He couldn't remember the exact year she graduated, but he figured her at early thirties. She'd put on a few pounds, but it had filled out the woman in her. The long legs were brown and shapely, the feet ensconced in a pair of worn TEVAs, set off by fiery red nail polish. The eyes matched her lustrous hair, but with a hint of golden flakes that caught the sun like sparklers on the fourth of July. When she laughed, it seemed to bounce off the blue water and bound onto KAMALA like a joyful child. But slowly he began to notice something . . . a hesitancy, more so a wariness. Her eyes often darted one way or another as if to anticipate . . . checking . . . for what, he didn't know. At least at first.

T.K. listened, and in a quiet, involuntary way, a sadness began to invade him. He hoped these weren't symptoms like the ones he'd seen too often when he'd helped on a few of those investigations. Too many of these vets, actually mostly kids, were returning from Iraq and Afghanistan with PTSD, a one way descent into the interminable pit of a man-made hell. Suddenly one of his boat neighbors dropped a steel anchor onto the dock. It slammed onto the boards and Raina jumped from her perch. She turned and crouched, intense . . . and momentarily terrified. Her hands came up and locked into a defensive position. When she realized what had happened, she rose slowly, her bronzed face tinted bright red. She looked down at the cockpit floor and shook her head. Then she tried a shy smile.

"You knew, anyway," she barely whispered.

He stayed very still.

"Come on Doc. You're a smart guy. I watched you watch me. At least you suspected."

T.K. didn't want to admit acting like some damned voyeur, but Sunny and others often swore he had a kind of sixth sense. He didn't think so, but was very good at observing and listening. That's when people told you things they couldn't say out loud.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"Yeah . . . had way too much fun across the wide ocean . . . what with guys shooting at you and trying hard to blow you up, not to mention the good soldiers we lost. Sgt. Raina reporting for duty, Sir."

She faked a halfhearted salute and a tear stained with mascara crept down her cheek.

He fished a clean paper towel out of his damp bathing suit and wiped the tear gently. Then he handed it to Raina. He stayed in place and waited for her to begin. She stuttered a bit at first, then gave him the general lowdown, even mentioning the disappearance of Su Jin. Despite the lack of detail, it was quietly horrific. There were periods of silence, pregnant breaths, but her hands didn't tremble until she got to the demons. T.K. felt something cold slither up his spine despite the glaring sun and the heat that pierced them both.

Demons? He knew them all too well . . . was even on a first name basis with those surrounding the death of his friend and colleague, Martin Sorcee. He'd written about them in SEDUCTION OF THE SPIRIT, trying to ferret out the worst, to understand the evil that had manifested itself in a twisted version of the hallowed Arthurian Legend . . . and finally to escape their hideous embrace. There were blessed days when they were quiet, but it never lasted long. This was the impetus for his retreat to the very southernmost part of the US., a town where evil and joy co-mingled in an adversarial waltz . . . a sort of Yin and Yang, each struggling to define the other in a futile attempt at dominance.

T.K. knew he had no words. It was most likely the best response. Listen . . . he commanded himself. Raina shared a little bit more. He responded with a few questions. He'd studied Psychology in grad school. It had come in handy more than once. She answered, finally a hand went up in front of her face.

"Stop. I know what you're trying to do. I've already talked to all of the therapists, done all the meds they prescribed, even tried hypnotism. The VA did all they know how to do. None of it banished those fiends that come at night. Now this. Something has to happen. Hear me Doc . . . you're the only one I think I can trust. You're the Ghostcatcher. I've read and heard what they say about you. You've got something. I'm not sure what it is, but I know I need it."

"You've got it all wrong, Raina. I'm no Ghostcatcher no matter what they say. I'm just a man like any other, trying to escape my own wraiths, and living like I think I should. There's probably nothing I can do . . ."

He bowed his head slightly, still captivated by her dark eyes and the tears. They bored into him with a plea he tried to resist. He shook his head and snatched a deep breath . . . it was no use.

"But I'll help if I can."

"You can, Doc. Find Su Jin Kim."

Chapter Three

The man lay on his chest, the oil gleaming as she dug her fingers and pounded her fist into his willing back. He was breathing in a slow, deep cadence and his eyes were shut tight. His buttocks were covered by a snowy towel slightly damp with the light sheen of sweat. She continued to massage the bulging fat and muscles as he gave the occasional involuntary twitch and sighed softly. She pushed her raven hair back over her shoulder and patted her forehead with the back of her hand. He was totally relaxed. That usually meant a nice tip, one she could pocket after she turned over the standard sixty bucks to the Boss Lady. That's what she called her . . . that . . . and nothing else.

Maybe this wasn't so bad . . . more the thing she'd been promised when she answered the ad at her little village far across the sea. Honest money for honest work . . . money to send home to her family. She told herself it wouldn't be long before she had enough to board the plane and once again be in the warm folds of the ones she loved . . . and the ones who loved her.

She turned to the table for one final dribble of the oil. She dropped it into her hand and rubbed her palms together. When she moved back toward him, he had turned onto his back and the towel was on the floor. He grinned and spoke.

"Happy ending?"

She knew what he meant. She'd heard about this from the other girls. She smiled and bowed her head. She quietly mouthed no. It was the first time for her and she wanted it to be the last. Then the Boss Lady's voice rang in her mind.

"Silly girl. You make customer satisfied. We all make more money. He tell his friends. Make more money. You remember your family . . . do what he asked. More for them . . . more for us all. Only good business."

He pointed at his cock, then put his hand on it and made a jerking motion. "Put it in your mouth," he commanded, licking his lips with a cold smile.

She backed away, the aura of fear and disgust enveloping her.

"So what the hell? What are you waiting for? More cash? He got off the table and went to the slacks draped over a metal chair. He pulled a wallet from the pocket and extracted a crisp one hundred dollar bill. He placed it on the massage table and pointed again to his dangling meat. "You suck," he growled.

She was still. He took a large step toward her and grabbed her wrist. "Listen, you slant-eyed cunt, you do what I say. I pay. You do." He stuck out his tongue and curled it in like a child licking a scoop pf ice cream. She shook her head. That was when he slapped her. She fell to her knees and began to whimper.

Suddenly the door burst open. Boss Lady stood, her hands fixed on her haunches, a cruel curl chiseled into her thin lips.

"What I tell you? We bring you here, we can throw you out. You be on street. I call ICE. You be deported in one second. The what happen to your family? No help, no money . . . they starve like rats trapped in cage. Do what I say . . . now."

The small girl got up on her knees. Boss Lady snatched the hundred off of the table and nodded, leering through a crooked smile. The girl wiped away the tears, opened her mouth and took him into it. It didn't take long. She choked when he came and spit it into a cup. Good for business, she thought to herself bitterly.

One was watching, the other door slightly cracked . . . just enough for a first hand account of the degradation, the violation, the utter destruction of innocence. She saw Boss Lady glance in her direction with eyes like dark lasers. It was almost a training film . . . or a warning. She got it . . . whatever was 'good for business' was good for her. "Do what I say," the words rang in her ear.

She wept.

Chapter Four

Raina had left. He had given her a boat card with his email and cell number. So what was next?

His first impulse was to call Sunny. She was the one with the M.A. in Psychology from U.V.A. The beautiful, shapely bartender from The Green Parrot who had come to Key West to escape, or maybe more accurately to hide from the dysfunction, and the hypocrisy of academia. She didn't practice down here, but in many ways she was always practicing . . . listening to the mixture of troubled miscreants, curious tourists, and her many friends who hung out at the bar and often solicited her wisdom and her advice. He would do it, but what else? He wasn't even sure he could define it, but whatever it was . . . she had it. People trusted her instinctively, felt safe in her space and theirs, and confided in her things that they would never tell anyone else. Maybe it was the booze, the infectious laughter that reverberated in the bar, or just the sense of relief from the beating the day had inflicted. T.K. only knew it worked, and the mistress of the light was Sunny.

He pursed his lips and popped another beer. Frank . . . what about Frank? He was still Chief of Detectives of the local police department, one of the most competent, honest, and effective people T.K. had even known. Moreover, he and T.K. were friends. They'd worked together on several cases, the child who had been murdered by her own mother in a Voodoo ritual, the old man who had died mysteriously on the side of the road, and some others T.K. would love to forget. Frank was man you could trust, but Raina had told him that Su Jin was in the Keys on forged documents. Frank took his duties seriously. Maintain the law and the peace, especially in Key West, a place where both were often in scant supply. Would he feel compelled to execute the statutes to the letter?

There was only one way to find out. He'd ask him. If T.K. was to have any success finding Su Jin Frank's cunning, contacts, and comprehensive knowledge of the Keys' dark underbelly would be invaluable, even if he wasn't involved in any official capacity. He picked up his cell.

"Frank, T.K. How about lunch at Mama's?"

"Glad you asked. My mouth is already watering for some fish tacos, not to mention the rice and the re-fried beans. I get the feeling this isn't a social call, so the Margaritas are on you."

"Deal. See you at twelve."

T.K. knew he would see Sunny later. It was her day off and she liked to sleep in. He'd fill her in later over cocktails and sunsets on KAMALA.

Mama Rosa laughed and hugged T.K. "So you finally come back to see your fat old Mexican Mama?"

"You left out beautiful."

He kissed her on the cheek and smiled. Her full body, was engulfed in rich scents like a Latino buffet with a little sweat mixed in. Raven hair pulled back in her customary bun and skin browned and burnished like a desert flower.

"I fix you up. Cuervo Gold, on the rocks wit salt. I'm guess dat handsome detective is joining you. Must be some business."

I nodded, "Mama Rosa, you are a mind reader."

A laugh like an earthquake rumbled out of her huge pigeon chest and she waggled a finger. Then she lead me to quiet corner out of the brutal sun. The fan whirred overhead creating a refreshing breeze and a little cover for discreet conversation. The Margaritas arrived post haste and Frank was not far behind.

He thrust his paw at me and gave me a hearty shake. The guy who had been an All-American at Florida State still looked like he could give Le Bron a battle one on one, but the ruptured knee had ended his dreams of being a lottery pick. For Frank, it was okay. His wife and kids, and his devotion to what he thought was right were all he needed to call himself a man. He wore a tan linen suit and a paisley tie that was pulled together with light brown alligator loafers . . . tassels included. His dark skin carried a hint of sweat and the classic features of a Zulu warrior. Mama was right . . . "dat handsome detective."

We did the small talk thing. His son was now a junior at Key West High School, a lanky, fast, and intimidating pitcher who coaches thought might have the big leagues ahead of him. Nothing new at the Department . . . same old political bullshit and clashing egos. Frank took a sip of his drink and leaned in. He nodded. "Now . . . " he said with a pregnant pause.

"Okay, Frank. This has all got to be off the record."

"Oh, shit, one of those, huh?"

I told him all about Raina, the PTSD, the disappearance of her pal Su Jin Kim. He ground his teeth a few times, but said nothing at first.

"Oh great, Kim is one of the most common last names in Korea . . . kinda like Smith in the states. So what about a Missing Persons Report or some other type of official inquiry?"

"One more thing," I said quietly, "Su Jin is illegal. Raina thinks she's here on forged papers. Like I said, Frank, off the record."

"That makes it tough. Anything I do will require lots of red tape and verification. If something turns up, its not like I can ignore it, at least not if I want to keep my job."

"Yeah . . . there is that. Then who else could I have lunch with. We need to at least wait until your boy signs that bonus contract so he can support us in our old age."

Frank tried to laugh, but all he could manufacture was a weak smile.

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"

"How about some of that cool undercover investigation like I see on TV all the time? You know . . . use some contacts, check some police records . . . give me a heads-up on anything that might help, maybe a little brain-storming."

Frank rolled his eyes, "And I do this for a free lunch and a couple of lousy drinks?"

"Well, there's also this thing about us being friends."

He shook his head and grinned. Then he whispered, "Yeah, lucky me."

I paid the check and added on a nice fat tip. Mama Rosa blew us a kiss as we headed out.

Sunny came down the dock, padding in a pair of black high-tops . . . not my favorite look, but damned near anything looks good on her. She stopped in front of the bow and faked a Betty Boop pose. I had to laugh. I fixed us a couple of strong Tito's and tonic and we relaxed into the cockpit.

"So what's new, Sport?"

She reached over and ruffled my hair like my mom used to do, except then I was about five, and I never really liked it even though it was Mom.

I patted her on one long tanned leg, and gave her my best Errol Flynn. It was her turn to laugh. Then I began my story. She asked a question or two, but mostly remained silent. When I paused, she clicked her teeth and drew a deep breath.

"PTSD. Nasty shit. Several markers, but some of them are hard to identify . . . much less to separate from normal anxiety or depression. I probably trust your observations and instincts better than you do. I've seen them work too many times. That's why you're the Ghostcatcher."

"Okay, Sunny, cut the shit and tell me what you think."

"I think I'd like to meet Raina . . . get my own take and fill in some blanks. Do you think she will trust me?"

"Everyone else does, but hell, I'm not even sure she trusts me right now. I haven't heard from her since that first afternoon. I told her I'd help. I would have thought she'd be checking in to see if I had anything. But right now I just don't know much . . . can't be real sure of anything."

"Its common with PTSD. Lack of faith in anyone, detachment, avoidance of reminders, poor sleep habits laced with continual nightmares, not to mention general anger and unpredictable violent behavior . . . that's just for openers. Can you call her?"

I nodded and went below to retrieve the number Raina written on a scrap of paper. I looked at Sunny while I punched the digits into my cell. The phone rang several times. I was just about to hang up when a reluctant voice answered. She sounded like I'd awakened her, words somewhat slurred, hesitant. I hoped is wasn't drugs or booze.

"Raina. Its Doc Fleming. Calling to check in. I've got someone I want you to meet. Need a little more info on Su Jin before I can get started."

"Doc, I don't need any more therapists or misguided helping hands. I guess I'm on my own. I gotta face it. That's all. Thanks, but I'll get through."

"No. That's not it . . . and you're not alone. I told you I'd help if I could. I will, but I need you to supply some leads. I'm not sure where to start."

She perked up a bit. I heard a bottle or a cup being set on something hard. She swallowed.

"I help . . . you help. Sounds like the Old College Try. A deep breath, then . . .yeah . . . okay."

"Come down to the boat tomorrow morning around ten. We'll talk . . . maybe have a Bloody Mary."

That seemed to perk her up a bit. I thought I even heard a small laugh. It was a good sound.

Chapter Five

Sunny didn't have to be at the Parrot until three. She told me about seven times that she wasn't sure she could help. I knew that, but it was worth a shot. Sometimes women can communicate in a silent language that only they can translate . . . empathy, understanding, call it what you want. I hoped this was one of those times. She showed up at KAMALA about nine-thirty. We had a second cup of coffee and waited. I doused mine with a shot of Jameson, but only for medicinal purposes.

Raina stood on the edge of the dock and eyed my lady. I tried to read her expression, but it was shrouded in confusion and even a taste of fear. She was wearing a pair of pale blue scrubs and white Crocs. Her hair was pulled up on the back of her head and she wore no make-up. Still, that glow of youth and the Mediterranean skin were stunning. Unfortunately, the demons within were thinly concealed. She stepped onto the deck and smiled. She thrust her hand toward Sunny and gave me a quick hug. It was a start, but I couldn't tell if it was fortuitous or a prelude to more nerves and a lack of trust.

She told us she was doing a twelve hour shift so we skipped the Bloodys and waded into to small talk.

"So what has Doc told you about me?"

"Not much. Just that he agreed to assist and thought I might provide some help with your search. I know quite a few people around the Keys and my job is a good place to hear gossip . . . sometimes the useful kind."

Raina seemed to relax a little, but it was markedly tentative.

"Yeah, I know you from the Green Parrot. Once in a while Su Jin and I used to go in for a beer after work."

I had been waiting for that name to come up. I jumped in.

"So Raina, what can you tell me about Su Jin?"

"I told you she has a daughter here and family in Miami," She looked at me as if unsure. I nodded and patted Sunny on the shoulder. She went on. "She never really said so, but I'm betting she's an illegal. She couldn't have worked at the hospital without papers, but they are available for a price. I never really met any of her friends, but she's damned good with the patients, knows all of their meds, and all of the right procedures in an emergency. I did meet her brother once . . . least that's how she introduced him. It was actually at the Parrot. He was Korean, but there wasn't any resemblance, and a bunch of little things told me that maybe there was more to the relationship than they wanted on display. His name was Joo-Won, but he went by Joe Park. Different last names, but there could be several reasons for that. She had an apartment not far from the Truman annex. No roommates. I was there once . . . nothing special, sparsely furnished, but neat as a pin. There's really not much else I can tell you."

Sunny hadn't said much and it seemed to work. Raina leaned in toward her and touched her hand. The gesture was gentle and lovely.

"Gotta go. Due at the hospital at noon. Nice to meet you, Sunny. I can see why the Doc leans on you."

"Thanks. Maybe you can, too."

Sunny and I sat in the cockpit. It had clouded up and it looked like a rare day in Key West . . . one with some rain. We needed it. Sunny put her hand to her chin and narrowed her eyes.

"I'll take that Bloody you offered. Three things. I can see plenty of signs of PSTD. They're subtle, but obvious if you know what to look for. I think she trusted me. That business with the hand was a shot at bonding . . . and I think I know Joo-Won from the bar. He comes in with another Asian guy, and a girl. She stays mighty close to him. They have a couple of beers and laugh . . . always leave a healthy tip. And one final thing . . . he sure doesn't look like he's lonely to me."

Okay, I had Sunny on board. Now it was time to call Frank Sunny sucked up the last of the Bloody and left me with a small peck on the cheek I went to the computer.

I checked several data bases. There were several Su Jin Kims, but nothing around here that fit her age and profile. Its like she didn't exist . . . nothing unusual for illegals . . . invisible . . . its the best way for them to survive. I decided to make my call. I caught him between cups of coffee. He sounded kind of gruff . . . or maybe just overworked as usual.

"Okay Frank, Its me. One more favor."

I heard him groaning over the phone.

"Yeah. And for this I get another free lunch at Mama's, plus a minimum of two tasty Margaritas with salt. Of course, its gotta be when I'm off-duty."

"You drive a hard bargain, buddy, but I guess I can swing it. Joo-Won Park . . . claimed to be Su Jin's brother, but I'm not sure of that. Anything you can find on him could be helpful."

Frank put me on hold. I clutched the phone and waited. It didn't take long.

"Got him, but I'm not sure you want him. Looks like a bad character. He's got a rap sheet here and in Miami . . . a couple of B&E's, possession of controlled substance, intent to sell, and one assault and battery. Apparently he likes knives. Got off on the "stand your ground" law. Thank God for our responsible Florida legislators . . . always on the job. So no convictions. He always seems to come up with some sleazy, but clever lawyer. What the hell? Sometimes the wheels of justice turn slowly . . . other times they grind to a halt."

I guess that was Frank's idea of a joke, but it didn't seem funny right now. He gave me the address he had for Key West, and promised to fax me a mug shot. Now I had to figure out a way to talk to him. That might prove a bit more difficult. I asked Sunny to call me the next time he came into the Parrot.

I didn't have to wait long.

Chapter Six

The next day was long and boring. Great combination . . . or not. I had received the photo Frank promised. Not much except a slight grin on his face . . . actually more of a smirk. At least I would recognize him if I saw him in the bar or on the street. I tried some other search engines on the internet, but nothing really came up. It was about four when Sunny called. I had given in to a nap that lasted about an hour more than I'd hoped for and was still a little drowsy.

"He's here. Just came in. Same lady on his arm. They're sitting at the end of the bar looking very cozy."

"On my way."

I made a quick call.

"Raina, how about a cold beer at the Parrot?"

At first she declined, but when I told her about Sunny's call, she said she'd be there in ten minutes.

That was about right. I saw her just down the block as I walked in. She came in behind me in cut-off jeans fashionably frayed at the bottoms, a white tank top and a pair of well-worn boat shoes. I said hello to a couple of old pirate buddies and watched them eye her brown legs and shapely derriere. I pointed her to a spot next to Mr. Supposed Brother and a striking Asian woman with long, lustrous black hair and a pink satin Kimono that was cut up to her thighs. He glanced as we sat down, but didn't see, or maybe just didn't acknowledge me or Raina. I smiled at Sunny and ordered a couple of Grolsch. We each took a sip and Raina turned her stool toward me so Joe could get a good look at her face. He looked away quickly, but he had seen her.

"Joe" she said and tried to smile, "haven't seen you around. Su Jin okay? She hasn't been to work in several days."

He forced a nod and stared in my direction out of the corner of his eyes. I couldn't help but feel like he was sizing me for some reason. I damned sure returned the favor. I'm guessing him at about five-ten, maybe 165 lbs., compact and muscled up. Probably a lifter, but lean and I'd guess very quick. Late twenties.

"I really am not to know. I think new job, maybe move."

"Go to your parents maybe?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Parents? Oh, you girl who work at hospital with Su Jin. I guess she tell you when she see you."

He placed a twenty on the bar and grabbed his woman's arm. She pointed to her half full Corona and shook her head. She tried to wrest her arm from his grip. He jerked a at it little and her face went pale.

She got up and he hustled her toward the door. I followed with Raina tagging behind me. When he realized we were close, he turned and pushed the lady against a wall. He snapped something at her I didn't understand, but she looked frightened. He turned to face us.

"Su Jin? I know nothing. She gone. You be gone, too or I have to teach you lesson about mind your own business."

He reached behind his back and I heard a nasty click. I was looking a a stiletto with a black titanium blade probably six inches long. His brown eyes had gone dark and he stood legs apart like taut cat ready to strike. Suddenly I felt Raina snatch the back of my shirt. She caught me off balance and put an elbow into my chest. I glanced down and saw that she had slipped out of her boat shoes.

"Okay, Missy. Joe have to hurt you."

He sliced the air with the knife and his mouth drew up at the corners. Raina was up on the balls of her feet, her fingers alternately stretching and compressing into fists. He sliced again and she drew back. Then she dropped her shoulder and drove into his ribs. He staggered for a moment trying to snatch some air. Her right foot raised and she pirouetted like a crazed ballerina, her heel striking him squarely on the jaw. There was a cracking sound and the knife hit the concrete. It was in her hand and at his neck before he could fully open his eyes. They were maws of confusion and terror. She straddled on the sidewalk.

"Now, Joe, maybe you can tell us a little more about Su Jin and I might not hurt you."

She drew the blade slightly across his neck and a trail of blood started to trickle to the surface.

"I tell you. I don't know where she is . . . only that she gone. You find Mai Lin on Duval Street. She can tell."

Raina stuck the blade in a crack in the concrete and broke it off. Then she tossed the bone handle into the street. She got up and slipped her feet into her shoes. That's when I saw the trail of crimson on her tank top. It had a ten inch slit in it and the blood was painting her belly red. She saw the horror on my face and laughed just a little.

"Hospital?"

"No. Believe me, Doc, I had a lot worse in Afghanistan. Take me to your boat. I know you got band aids."

I took her arm and hustled her back to KAMALA.

We went below and she slipped out of the now soaked tank top. She was wearing a white sports bra, but I couldn't help but notice her ample breasts. I went to the head and pulled out my first aid kit. Hydrogen peroxide, swabs, some large bandages, and a roll of clear tape. I swabbed the wound. It wasn't as bad as the blood would have me believe. A thin slit that had barely caught the skin. She jumped a bit at the peroxide and the wound foamed like it should. That's when I noticed the mound of ugly scar tissue at her shoulder. She was right . . . she had seen worse overseas. She looked in the mirror on the bulkhead and shook her head.

"No stitches today," she proclaimed with an undercurrent of pride in her voice.

"Well, you nailed his ass."

"Yeah, the U.S. Army teaches you some amazing things, but now I need to lay down for a moment. How about a shot of something strong to offer a bit of comfort?"

I got a glass and poured her a dollop of Jameson. She smiled and downed it in a gulp. I spread a beach towel over the settee. She settled down on it and folded her arms in front of her. She was out within seconds.

I poured a shot for myself and sat down opposite her, Her lush brown hair was spayed over the pillow under her head. I studied this beautiful and deadly lost child that I seem to have inherited.

Raina was out, motionless and snoring slightly. I went up into the cockpit to make the call. I got Frank on the first ring.

"Frank, T.K."

"You think I don't know that voice after all the times you bugged me? And I haven't even had my free lunch yet."

"Okay, I promise . . . soon. Mai Lin on Duval Street . . . mean anything to you?"

"Yeah . . . runs a massage parlor tucked in between the porn shop and the bakery. Small place, but she seems to have plenty of customers. No problems that I know of. And don't forget Mama's."

I said I wouldn't, and mumbled a thanks. Then I decided that maybe it was time for me to have a relaxing massage.

When I got below Raina was sitting on the edge of the cushion rubbing her eyes. I pulled a clean t-shirt out of my stash and handed it to her.

"Gotta go. Working tomorrow. Be okay. I'll call if I need you."

"Be sure you do."

Chapter Seven

The next morning after my second cup of coffee and a scan of what news I could get without provoking a massive case of heartburn, I went to my tiny closet. There it was, hanging limply, screaming for release. I had received it as a gift. I smiled, and said "just what I needed" while secretly vowing never to be seen in public in that hideous creation. The green and orange parrots were huge and garish and the beige background didn't help a bit. I slipped it on . . . after all, it was my best tacky Florida shirt, and thankfully my only one. It literally screamed dumb-ass tourist. Perfect. I added a pair of pink denim shorts, another one of my favorite gifts, and brown leather sandals. Big dark sunglasses courtesy of the Walmart clearance bin topped it all off. It was almost eleven, late enough to be open, but early enough to be sparsely attended. I checked my cell phone . . . full charge . . . and put it in my pocket.

I mounted my rusty Schwinn and made a mental note to attack it with some WD-40 and maybe even a can of blue spray paint. Duval wasn't that far from the marina. It took me about 15 minutes to spot the place. I put the bike in an alley down the block and locked it up. I didn't think anyone but me would want the old girl, but hey, this is Key West. If it ain't locked, it's considered fair game by some of our less respectable inhabitants.

I walked in and burped intentionally, placing my hand to my mouth in a fake "excuse me."

"Ah, welcome to Mai Lin's. We best in the Keys. Relax you good. You from Florida?'

I shook my head and pointed vaguely north.

She looked early forties, black hair pulled back and tied in a loose pony tail, probably Chinese. It was obvious she had been a good-looking woman ten or fifteen years ago. She wore a white top that fell over the shoulder and hung down to reveal breasts much too full to be naturals. Deep red slacks that clung to every curve, perfect teeth, and a smile that was definitely alluring while hinting at a bit of danger.

"You like to meet some of our girls?"

I nodded and she snapped her fingers. Each one wore a different look to go with different shapes. They say variety is the spice of life, and here it was. I pointed to the third one in line, maybe not the best looking, but the one who most probably needed the money and a boost to her self-esteem . . . if she had any.

She took my hand somewhat reluctantly and led me down a hall to a tiny room that bare held a massage table and a cheap easy chair with several snowy towels draped over it. I asked her name.

"Lilly," she said in a small voice.

"Well, its nice to meet you. Been here long?"

"So sorry. Not much English, but very fine masseuse."

She flexed pale thin fingers at me with a sort of "come hither".

"These hands take good care of you."

Then she made a gesture that suggested I take off my clothes. I unbuttoned my shirt and folded it over the chair. She pointed to my shorts. Then she approached me slowly and unbuckled my belt. I started to step out of them when she put her fingers in the waist band of my underwear.

"Be more comfortable. Lilly fix. You lie on table."

I did. She smiled, but there was something sad in her voice . . . as if she suffered from an unknown longing. She threw a towel over my buttocks and her soft palms drove into my back.

"Oh, by the way . . . do you know Su Jin? I think she used to work here."

She stopped and I felt her hands give an involuntary shake.

"I new . . . not been here long. You want "Happy Ending? Maybe a suck . . . or more, if you have cash money."

"That's awfully nice of you. I'll remember, Lilly . . . but today just the massage."

I saw her sulking out of the corner of her eye, Say good bye to a fat payday. She seemed to hurry now, but it damned sure felt good. Still, if what I suspected was true, I had to feel sorry for her. I gave her a crisp fifty dollar bill and an extra ten. That seemed to perk her up a little.

"You come back. See Lilly. Bring friends. I make it better. Maybe we have party."

On the way out I stopped at the desk. Mai Lin was reading a VOGUE. She stepped up when she realized there was more.

"You like this girl. She one of my best."

"Lilly is very nice and very lovely, but Su Jin is more my style."

She stiffened and the smile vanished.

"Don't know no Su Jin. She no work here."

"Well maybe you know Frank Beamon? He's the Chief of Detectives in Key West. Nice guy. You really ought to meet him."

Now she was scowling. Her lips had thinned over her teeth and a deep crease formed over her painted eyebrows. She put her hands down flat on the glass counter.

"You listen . . . I run honest establishment here. No drugs, no hanky panky, just good massage from good girls try to make fair buck for themselves and their families. You ask them, they tell you is all good."

Yeah, I'll just bet they would. I bit my tongue. No need to make things more difficult than they were.

"That might be so, but I'll bet Detective Beamon would be interested in hearing the story about my "massage". It might be easy enough to verify, especially with that camera you had hidden in the corner of the ceiling. I'll wager I could be a star."

"You get out. This blackmail."

"Yeah, it is. Now what about Su Jin?"

"I tell you. You go away . . . no Detective . . . you go away."

I nodded.

"Su Jin only with Mai Lin week or so. She pretty girl, not so obedient, but . . . young . . . sexy. She learn. Make us all lots of money. Boss Lady want her in Tampa. She probably there, working hard, staying out of trouble. I am responsible citizen . . . cooperate . . . help you. You return favor."

Chapter Eight

They came again. After midnight, again. After the antidepressants and the Valium . . . again. She rolled off of the mattress and wiped the sweat off the back of her neck. Her heart was pumping like a jackhammer. She was damned near breathless. She went to the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. It was cold, but not refreshing. A chill ran up her spine and she willed herself to forget, but she needed time, and she had to relax no matter the cost. She went to the kitchen and poured a double of bourbon into a milky water glass. Then she settled into her recliner, leaned back and gulped some of the brown liquid. It caught in her throat and burned as it went down, finally settling into her writhing belly. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Suddenly she was walking in the total darkness, shivering as though she was naked. Her arms were taut as she tried to feel something . . . anything with her hands. Then a flash of light. It was a brilliant moon shining over her shoulder, but the color was all wrong . . . not the pale yellow that comforted, but a sickly green as though it had been retched up by some malevolent creature. She stopped and tried to focus her eyes. She was in a graveyard. There were head stones, but the etching was scrambled and indistinct. Dark shadows cast themselves on the barren ground. Now a noise like the cry of a wounded animal . . . and the form of a woman, her body obscured by some sort of shroud. She raised her head and stared at Raina. Then a bony hand reached for her. The face began to take on some features. They were cloudy at first. Then the mist began to fall away and Raina screamed.

It was the face of Su Jin, but it was somehow contorted, the lips faded and twisted into a portrait of fear and immeasurable sorrow. They moved, but no sound came. She pointed toward an open grave and beckoned to Raina to follow. She took a step toward the abyss. Then an icy breeze came up. The shroud began to swirl and transform into ashes. It descended and dissolved into the cold black dirt.

Raina woke. The bourbon was soaking her lap, the smell assaulting her nostrils. She got up and went back to her bedroom. It was in the small night stand right next to her bed wrapped in oilcloth inside a plastic bag. She always kept the Sig loaded. She pulled it out and went back to the recliner. It was familiar in her hand, a little gift from the military. She wracked the slide, slipping a lethal round into the chamber. It was time. She could no longer live like this . . . if it could even be called living. She placed the barrel in her mouth and pointed it up. It was cold on her lips. Her eyes closed like fists. She would do it.

Her mind was a miasma . . . scrambling for a thing that made a shred of sense. She wasn't sure what, but something locked into her consciousness. It was man with a kind face and a sense of loss she couldn't define. Then the words, "I'll help if I can." She stared. Maybe he already had.

She withdrew the cold cylinder from her mouth, wiped in on her night shirt and placed it on the end table. It would wait for her.

Chapter Nine

T.K. was still a bit drowsy when his cell rang. He glanced at the clock. Ten A.M. Much later than he thought. He couldn't say why, but sleep hadn't come until way after midnight. He knew the caller ID. It was Frank.

"Hello Sleeping Beauty. Sorry to interrupt a man with your heavy agenda, but I've got some news you probably don't want to hear."

"Okay, I got the warning. Now shoot."

"Somebody already did, but it was a knife. I think we may have found your girl, but she's down at the morgue. Asian, about the right age, no identification. Found her up near Stock Island. The body had washed up on the beach. Cuts and bruises at her ankles and wrists. Kinda like she been bound. I'm guessing someone tied a weight of some sort to her legs hoping the sea creatures would make a meal of her. Didn't work. I know you've never seen Su Jin in person. Can you get Raina down here to make a positive identification? Think she can handle it?"

"I can't promise, but I believe she will. She'll want to know . . . and God knows she's seen it all after Afghanistan. I'll call her and let you know."

I did. Raina's voice shook on the phone, but we agreed to meet at the police station in an hour or so. I was a little early and she was a little late. She didn't look like the same girl I'd seen on the boat a couple of nights earlier. Her face was pale and someone had painted dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. It might have been my imagination, but she seemed thinner . . . even weaker.

Frank drove us over to the morgue in a squad car. I held the glass door for her as we entered quietly. Frank nodded at the uniform behind the counter and scratched his initials on some form. We walked into the inner sanctum greeted by a stiff cold and the insistent odor of antiseptic spray. A man I didn't know spoke in a whisper to Frank and pointed us toward an aisle down a metal hallway. We turned right about halfway down the row. The drawers were all stacked one on top of the other in the icy building. Everything was orderly, spotless, and lifeless. Probably not at all like things that had been in life for these tenants. A small sticker printed in black marker bore the date and the word 'unknown' in capital letters.

Our attendant tugged at the handle and the wheels rolled effortlessly. The body was covered in a yellowing sheet, only the toe adorned with a manila tag again labeled 'unknown'.

I heard Raina breathing in short shallow gasps. I'd been here before on a couple of occasions, and I instantly remembered why it made me nauseous.

The attendant took the top of the sheet in his fingertips and pulled it back, stopping at the top of her breasts. Actually she was quite pretty, her skin like marble, and her face serene. She looked at peace with her exit from this world. The only visible mark on her upper body was a gaping pink trench that started under her left ear and stopped abruptly on the other side of her throat. There was still a trace of discoloration which must have been bruises. Lumps of tissue were framed by the gore.

Again I heard Raina, but this time with a sign that sounded like relief.

"Its not her. Its not Su Jin."

Of course it wasn't.

It was Lilly.

We drove back to the station and Frank had a patrolman run Raina back to her apartment. I went in and settled into a very uncomfortable metal chair in front of Frank's desk.

"Okay, T.K. I know you've been working on this. No more holding back. I need everything you've got . . . every contact, every theory, every piece of potential evidence. We've got murder one. I don't care who the girl is. She didn't deserve to have her throat slit and her body left to be ravaged by the scavengers."

He was right, but that was nothing unusual. I asked for a cup of black coffee, wishing it could be Jameson. It really didn't matter. I started my tale from the beginning. I told him about my first reunion with Raina, her PTSD, and he request that I find Su Jin. I mentioned our encounter with Joe and the unfortunate result . . . at least for him since Raina had kicked his ass. He asked me to describe the knife in as much detail as I could recall. He didn't like my foray to Mai Lin's establishment, particularly my brief conversation with Lilly.

"T.K. Fleming, Man of Mystery and International Spy. For Christ's sake, let me do my job. Now I've got a murder on my hands and you're playing Sherlock Holmes."

His voice was alternately sarcastic and finally accusatory. I guess he was right. No more field trips for me without supervision from the law.

"Okay, I guess I got no choice. I am appointing you as an official consultant to the Key West Police Department. You get the badge and everything, but no weapons . . . leave that Ruger in its little hidey-hole . . . and make damned sure you don't represent yourself as an official member of the department. Consultant, nothing else. I set up some paper work for you. Just sign on your way out. Now down to real thing. I'll run all of the usual suspects through our data bases, check employment records, possible previous arrests throughout Florida, and any else that occurs to me. You get records, dates of incorporation, check on officers, see what background you can get online. Get Sunny involved. She's a hell of a lot smarter than you are . . . at least most of the time."

"Well thanks for that final observation. Unfortunately, you're probably right. I'm on it. I'll keep you posted and you do the same."

"I will . . . and I want my damned lunch damned soon."

When I got back to KAMALA I called Sunny. She had some time before she had to report to the Parrot for suds distribution and comments on her shapely ass. She arrived a half hour later in her old Saab convertible. She looked like a tropical goddess, but that was nothing new. She threw her arms around me.

"Glad you still need me," she cooed.

"Yeah . . . in more ways than one."

I filled her in on the latest developments. Her eyes got real dark when I told her about Lilly.

"Damn it T.K. Are you trying to put a target on your back? If these people are involved in anything illegal, dope, prostitution, trafficking and they think you're getting close, it might be convenient for you to suddenly disappear."

I didn't want to admit it, but I knew she was right. Despite Frank's "no weapons" warning, I decided to at least clean my little .380 as soon as she left. She stared at me until I nodded.

"Look, you handle the computer while I do the brainstorming."

She sat down at the table in the salon and waited not too patiently. An occasional glare darted in my direction, but we began.

The Key West parlor was part of an LLC named Empress Productions, Inc. They owned a chain of eight massage parlors and spas located mostly the west coast of Florida. Key West, Miami, Sarasota, Tampa and Orlando were all on the list. Corporate was headquartered in Tampa. Only two officers were identified. Mai Lin Chung was the vice-president and secretary. The president, treasurer, and CEO was Madeline Ling. We couldn't find any background info on either one of them, but I was guessing that Mai Lin was our own efficient VP and mistress of the Key West branch. I was guessing she probably handled all of the traffic in the southern locations. I assumed Miss Ling was the head honcho and looked after things in the northerly parts of the state. Unfortunately, that's all they were . . . assumptions. I couldn't help but remember an old colleague. He used to say "the only thing assumptions do is make an ASS out of U and ME." Too much truth in that one.

We continued to look for connections, but nothing jumped out at me or Sunny. It was getting late and Sunny was due at the Parrot. I decided to call Frank and see if he had anything useful. He was out of the office and didn't answer his cell. So it was wait.

Suddenly it occurred to me. I had an image of Su Jin in my mind, but like Frank said, I never met her in person and actually had never even seen a photograph. I called Raina. I knew she was at work, but checked her messages periodically. I left a request for anything that pictured Su Jin. A hour later, I heard my cell chirp. She had texted me a candid of herself with her arm around a slight Asian girl. They wore matching yellow tank tops. I could see Hog's Breath sign behind them. It was one of the more popular watering holes. A day at the beach? A stop at the bar for a quick one? Who cares? They looked happy and secure. Too bad it didn't end that way.

May Lin was right about a couple of things. The girl was striking, hair long and luxurious, the color of rich coffee. Her brown eyes were raised at the corners giving her a somewhat exotic look. Her skin was a light tan and absolutely flawless. I could only see her from to waist up, but she seemed shapely, and radiated a quiet, almost erotic, energy. May Lin was right about one more critical point. If the right men were hungry, she could make lots of money . . . but for whom. The mysterious Boss Lady in Tampa would love having her in the lineup, especially if her establishments were offering things a little beyond an innocent massage.

I had a feeling that information had cost Lilly her life.

Chapter Ten

"Damn it, T.K. What are you trying to do . . . audition for "The Walking Dead"?

Not so funny, but that's what she said when I told her my plans for the next morning.

Sunny and I sat in the cockpit nipping at a nitecap. There was a light breeze from out of the southeast and we could hear Bad Bob crooning "Fire and Rain" from the stage of Turtle Kraals. The temperature was benign, even cool, but Sunny was definitely blowing hot.

"So you're gonna take that damned badge that Frank gave you. . . just walk in and start questioning that Asian bitch? Lilly's dead. Nothing will change that. Maybe you want to join her."

"Look Sunny we've already checked every source we can. We got nothing. I'm going to the horse's mouth. Who knows what might stumble out, especially if I put a little heat on her."

"Yeah, well I'll just bet that Frank will do just that . . . and he's a cop . . . you know carries a gun and all that shit. Let him do his job."

"We both know he will, but maybe I can provide a little push."

"T.K. You've been watching too much T.V. I guess that's okay. I'm like the Rolling Stones. "I won't Forget to put Roses on your Grave."

She grabbed her bourbon and swallowed in a gulp, then slammed her glass down on the deck and pranced down the dock like a thoroughbred filly who'd decided she wouldn't run the next race. I took another sip of mine and paused. Maybe Sunny had something. Maybe I was setting myself up as a target, but I couldn't get Lilly off my mind. I wasn't responsible. It wasn't me . . . or maybe it was. Part of me didn't want to know, and the other part wanted to find the sonovabitch who did it and make sure he attended a little "come to Jesus" meeting.

I didn't feel the need for the tourist costume the next day. I did put on a blue knit shirt and pinned the badge over my left nipple. I looked in the mirror and tried to snarl like Tommie Lee Jones in one of those bad guy roles he does so well. It didn't work, but Sunny always says I look better in a smile. What the hell?

I still hadn't oiled up my old Schwinn and she groaned a bit when I hit the first stroke, but soon I was pedaling toward Duval and a pleasant visit with my favorite massage parlor owner. I started to put my bike around the corner again when I noticed that May Lin's door stood wide open. I parked and scanned the window. The signs were gone and the windows covered in butcher paper taped to inside. There were two Hispanic men on the inside sipping sweaty bottles of Coke. I walked in and nodded.

"So what happened to the ladies?" I asked.

"Don know much," the taller one said, "dey call . . . we come. Tear it out, dey say. Soon be ice cream parlor, dey say."

"Who called?"

"Boss Man. Santana and Brothers Wrecking Company. Here is card. You need someting tear down, you call, we come."

I glanced around the dusty space one more time. Two sledge hammers and a crow bar leaned against the wall. Wood splinters everywhere, and nothing but junk piled in random mounds. I peered at each minor disaster hoping to see an appointment book or a scrap of stationery. Nothing. I imagined some of the trash had already made it to the dumpster lurking out the back door. I thanked them and left. Curious coincidence. No more parlor, no more Mai Lin, soon the perfect place for a double chocolate cone . . . maybe even some sprinkles. Right next to the porn shop. I dialed Frank. The cop on duty said he was out and took a message. I knew I'd hear from him soon . . . and I was right.

"T.K. Got some info. I was able to track down Su Jin's parents. Hospital employment records. Emergency contact number. They were reluctant to talk . . . scared I think . . . but Su Jin usually calls at least a couple of times a week.. When they didn't hear from her, they became worried. Luckily, Luisa, her five year old is with them, but she keeps asking for her Mama and Su Jin has never left the kid with them this long. The real bad news is yesterday they got a note in the mail. The local cops faxed me a copy of it.

"Glad Luisa well. Hope she stay that way. Su Jin do, too , but never know. Lot of crazies around. Sometimes closer than you think."

He went on. "It was printed in block letters, probably not with the preferred writing hand. All pencil. The cops weren't able to trace the paper. Post-marked in Sarasota. No prints . . . just another mystery. One odd thing. The D that was assigned the potential case thought at first the envelope was scented, but when forensics examined it, they decided it was some sort of lotion . . . not enough to get a specific type or brand. Probably nothing, but maybe worth knowing. Might be a small part of a bigger puzzle."

Hell . . . wasn't it always? I ignored it for the moment , but made a mental note to mention it to Sunny. My beauty queen had probably forgotten more about lotions than I ever knew. One thing I did know . . . she damned sure smelled good 100% of my time with her. One thing stood out to me. Sarasota postmark One of the massage parlors owned by Empress was located there. Coincidence or another small part of the puzzle? Somehow I had to find out.

Chapter Eleven

I lay in the forward berth, my mind churning. Too many questions. Not enough answers . . . or even approaches. I remembered some of my heroes, Charlie Chan, Sam Spade, Travis McGee. They always figured it out . . . but they were fiction and this was real life. One dead . . . and possibly one more. Okay next step . . . some good old fashioned shoe leather. One foot in front of the other. Something would turn up . . . it always did, but sometimes you had to go far afield to look for it. I had an idea. I just wasn't sure it was a good one. I drifted off somewhat fitfully, but at least it was a kind of rest.

I heard the crash and shook myself awake. The companionway hatch slid back and glass shattered. It took only seconds for it to claw its way into my nostrils. The horrific scent of gasoline and smoke. I looked behind me. The cabin mirrored hell . . . leaping spires of red and a mass of gray smoke . . . awkward lovers frantically seeking death and destruction. I grabbed the blanket next to me and flung it over the blaze. It tamped the inferno momentarily, but I remembered that smoke inhalation is the most frequent cause of death in a boat or house fire. I stopped up the sink in the head and turned on the tap full force. If the water ran over before the pump or the shore power quit, maybe it would help douse the flames. Meanwhile I had to get out. I told myself I'd never get through the rage that was consuming the main salon. It also held the fire extinguisher that I'd forgotten to get recharged. It didn't matter. The leaping miasma threatened to cut off my oxygen and choke me unconscious. Someone wanted me dead. I was close. I popped the forward hatch over my berth. It was a small square, but if I could control my panic I could squeeze my body through one limb at a time. Air . . . I needed air. I struggled through and dove into the water. It was cool and life giving. I broke the surface gasping and hacking, but blessing those powers that be for my life.

I treaded water and heard someone on the shore laughing . . . even clapping like a teen-aged girl at a Taylor Swift concert. Then I watched my beautiful and graceful KAMALA burn. Now I heard a familiar voice scream.

"Last warning, Professor."

My neighbors on the dock responded quickly. Every boat in the marina was threatened. Fiberglass contains a petroleum distillate. It ignites like bomb. Fritz, my old cruising mate, stepped on board and spayed the cabin with a fire extinguisher. Someone handed him another and the white foam begin to diminish the flames. The fire trucks arrived. I hoped it wasn't too late. My home, my escape, the savior of my tortured mind might be gone and all of my worldly possessions with it. A man in a yellow slicker helped me back onto the dock. I stared at the last of flames being brought to bay. I couldn't help it. I cried.

I borrowed a phone from Fritz and dialed Sunny's cell. I let it ring. I figured she was she was still at the Parrot, but she carried the Apple in hip pocket.

"T.K., What's up? You don't call here unless there's trouble."

"There is."

I told her about the fire and my precious KAMALA."

"Sit tight. I'll be there in ten minutes."

She was good for her word. I stood on the dock looking like a big wet St. Bernard. I was wrapped in a beach towel. I didn't want to soak the front seat of the Saab. In another ten minutes, I was sitting at the table in the kitchen of her small apartment clad in an old bathrobe and nursing a double of Jameson. I supplied the details. I was guessing a Molotov Cocktail. I told her of my escape and the joy I felt at not becoming a king-sized crispy critter.

"One more thing," I explained, "just after I dove over the side, I saw someone on the shore. Not enough light to ID him, but I heard him laughing and clapping. Then he screamed, "Last warning, Professor,". I think I recognized the voice. Our old pal Joe."

"Damn it, T.K. What'd I tell you about putting a target on your back? Time to cool it. We don't know where Su Jin is, probably never will. Maybe she hit the lotto . . . decided on a Caribbean Cruise. We do know there is at least one corpse. I don't want you to be the next."

"I'm not real excited about that prospect either, but I may be responsible in some way for the death of Lilly. I can't get it off my mind. Then there's Raina. She trusts me. I can't quit . . . Not now."

Sunny's usually pretty contained, but caught in her glare, I knew she was severely pissed.

"Okay, everybody's Savior, go take a bath and crawl into bed."

The sarcasm dripped and ran like rain on a window. I swallowed the last of the Jameson and followed the orders from my queen.

This was definitely not the time to tell her about my next move.

Chapter Eleven

I didn't sleep real well. Almost getting fried will do that to you.

I slipped from beneath the covers and eased on a tattered pair of cut-offs and a baggy t-shirt I kept at Sunny's place . A pair old Tevas completed my derelict look. Sunny was still snoring. I grabbed the keys to the Saab. She'd probably sleep for another couple of hours, then head out for her morning jog. I didn't want to wait and I wouldn't be gone long, anyway..

There was yellow police tape on the finger pier blocking the entrance KAMALA. I slipped under it, took a deep breath and scanned her starboard deck. The port along side the cabin was cracked from the heat, but a little Sika-Flex might tackle that issue. No other visible evidence that the fire below had caused any damage topsides.

The area below decks was a different story. I pulled the companionway hatch back and the stench of smoke and gasoline assaulted my nostrils. I stood at the steps that led down to the cabin and took a deep breath. It wasn't as bad as I had thought. The teak and holly floor was scorched and flooded. The cushions burned at the edges. I congratulated myself. The blanket and the water trick had mostly worked. I guessed that the bilge pump and fresh water pump were both dead, either wiring or simple burnout. The screen on my cell phone was swelled and cracked. What the hell? Replaceable. I decided to wait to check all of the electronics . . . again all replaceable as long as the wiring was still good. The fire extinguishers from my neighbors had finished the job and kept the damage to a minimum. The entire area was covered in a white powder, but that could be cleaned. I went back to the cockpit and tried the diesel. She coughed a bit, then turned over and purred like a cat being stoked. I let her run and went back below.

I couldn't see much else and the foul smells had me hacking. Okay . . . the news was as good as I cold hope for. I called Lexi, my favorite boat detailer and left a message. She called me right back and promised she's be down first thing in the morning. I closed up the boat, then headed down the dock with my old Schwinn tucked under my arm. I was wedging it into the Saab's back seat when I heard a voice from behind.

"So tell me how your mistress is doing."

I turned to see Raina, the usual cutoffs and yellow tank top hanging loosely over her breasts.

"Not as bad as I thought. Most of it will clean up. Always a problem when someone tries to fry you like a cheap steak. How'd you know?"

"Key West, you know . . . bad news always travels fast. So who or why?"

I didn't want to tell her. After all, at this time, there was no proof of anything. Then again, she might be in danger. If she was, she needed to know. I unfolded it all, including my suspicions about Joe.

"Forensics . . . Frank . . . we'll soon know a lot more."

"Might be, but one thing is sure. Its because you were trying to find Su Jin. That makes it very personal. So maybe I can help."

"Raina, you need to stay as far away from this as you can get."

She dropped her head, bit her lower lip, then looked into my eyes. I could see the hands at her sides turning into fists.

"Sure, T.K. But someone has dealt me in, and I've got cards I haven't shown, yet."

There was some unknown danger in her tone. What were 'her cards'? Maybe I didn't want to know.

She hugged me silently and turned.

I cranked the Saab and headed back to Sunny's.

She was up and attacking a huge bowl of Special K topped with a handful of blueberries and a sliced banana. I sat down at he table and began my report. Every so often she'd mumbled something through bloated cheeks a full mouth. I caught most of it. I included the plan of my next move. She slammed down the spoon and gulped the last of her gourmet breakfast. She poked daintily at her lips with a paper napkin and drilled me with those laser eyes.

"You really do have a death wish, don't you? Okay sport. Number One: Make sure I'm in your will and number Two: I'm going with you."

"No Sunny. It might be dangerous."

"That's exactly why I'm going. I still remember how to cover your ass, Big Boy. And besides . . . no me . . . no Saab. Its an awfully long bike ride to Tampa."

"Sunny, let's be reasonable."

"Sorry T.K., I tried that 'reasonable' shit on you and it just didn't work. It won't work on me, either. When do we leave? And by the way, make sure your .38 is still functional, and I will definitely carry my little Ruger."

I had given her a .22 just for protection after an episode the scared the hell out of me, and placed her in harm's way (translation . . . very close to dead. There was no sense in arguing with her. I'd tried that before . . . definitely no sale. So I guess Wyatt and Doc were packing to head north.

I had checked KAMALA once again and the .38 seemed ready for duty. I cleaned and oiled it, anyway . . .checked the box of ammo I kept hidden. I inspected the leather holster. I never liked carrying the gun, much less using it, but it had proved an old and trusted friend on more than one occasion. I gathered up all of my clothing, stuffed it in a laundry bag and took it to Sookie's One-Hour Dry Cleaning. They were good and fast and Sookie's smile could melt glaciers. Lexi had already done wonders. I left the bowls of vinegar and the numerous cleaning products below. I needed to order new cushions and replace some electronics, but I decided to attend to that stuff after Lexi had done all she could. A few days away would be a strain on the MasterCard, but in some ways a welcome relief. A little less violence, a couple of nights with my lady, and maybe even a good seafood dinner out at a real restaurant. At least that's what I was thinking.

I had already purchased a new cell and she was programmed for action. I wish now I hadn't gotten my wish so soon. I heard the ring-tone. Caller ID, the Key West Police Department. I was pretty sure it was Frank. I was right.

"I don't even want to tell you this, T.K., but I've got your gal under arrest. Murder One until we find something different. She claims Self-Defense . . . Stand Your Ground, and all that shit. It might stick, but we had to have her in custody. Probably a flight risk."

"Okay Frank, could we back up a bit? Who the hell is my girl?"

"Raina . . . she wants to talk to you before she says anything else. What she really needs is legal counsel, but I'm going to bend the rules a little because of the circumstances . . . and by the way, our pal, Joo-Won Park , is very dead."

Chapter Twelve

I pushed the Schwinn as hard as I could. It was South Florida hot and I was covered in sweat when I reached the station. I went straight to Frank's office, plopped in the squeaky chair, and waited for the man to hang up the phone.

"So what gives?"

"Actually, she came into the station and reported being attacked. She was down near Captain Tony's. Gonna stop in for a drink. She was passing around the corner just beneath a burned out street light when someone came up from behind her and put a knife to her throat. I guess she's some sort Marine ninja. Claims she elbowed him in the ribs, got the knife away from him and kicked him in the face. The blues got there pretty quick. He was laying on the concrete. His windpipe was crushed. EMT guesses he drowned in his own blood. They took him to the hospital, but he was DOA. She was unmarked except for a couple of scratches and one small slit on her forearm. Minor, no stitches. They cleaned it up and put a large band aid over it. She says self defense. Maybe . . . but two odd things. Her shoes were sitting on the edge of the walkway neatly placed side by side. They were converse . . . lace-up . . . not something that would have slipped off easily. She didn't have much of an explanation. We found the knife, stiletto . . . fingerprints were mostly smudged, no definitive IDs, but the one clear one was hers. She needs a good attorney. Thought you might help."

"So can I see her?"

"Officially, no. Off the record you got five minutes, but only through the bars of the cell."

He got up and I followed. Frank nodded to the guard at the entrance to the cell block.

He frisked me with "Sorry sir. Regulations."

I surrendered my cell and the keys to Sunny's apartment. He hit a button and there was a buzzing sound. I walked down the hall of the frigid enclosure. All of the units were empty except for one.

Raina sat on a dingy gray cot bolted to the concrete floor. She looked like hell . . . face dirty, a couple of prominent bruises, hair askew. She hadn't taken the time or just couldn't summon the effort to clean up after the arrest. She looked at me with sad eyes.

"I thought all this stuff was over . . . the killing, the bleeding zombies in my nightmares, but its back . . . the demons that won't leave me. Its like everything is over, yet its deja vu. It will kill me, Doc. They're coming again."

"No, Raina. We'll get you out of this. I know a good attorney. Sarah Newton. She's a vet and a damned smart lady. I'll call her as soon as I get out of here."

"It doesn't make any difference. I killed him. I had to . . . especially after what he did to you. I couldn't help it. The anger, the blood lust drove me . . . just like Afghanistan . . . and now my time is almost here."

"Raina . . . that's enough. Stay with me and this will soon be finished. Then you can go back to what you do best . . . helping people, maybe even saving them. Together we can drive those demons back to their own brand of hell. We'll find Su Jin. Just give me a little time."

She sat up. I though I could detect a glint of determination . . . maybe even a sliver of hope. She nodded and wept. She stuck her hand through the bars. I took it and squeezed. Then I put my fingers to my lips and tucked them through the steel and up to her cheek. She leaned into the caress and offered what I though was a brief smile. My five minutes was up. I collected my belongings and thanked the officer.

I stopped on my way out and waved at Frank. He was on the phone again. I silently mouthed my thanks and pulled my cell out of my pocket. Sarah's paralegal answered on the first ring. I identified myself and she put me through to the attorney.

I told the tale quickly, but thoroughly, mentioning that Raina was a vet probably suffering from PTSD. I didn't tell her about my visit to the station or the conversation with Raina. I knew that what she told Sarah would fall under attorney client privilege.

"I'm on it,T.K. She'll be out by the end of the day."

I cycled back to Sunny's place. She wasn't due at the Parrot until three. We sat at the kitchen table. She looked at me and went into her therapist's mode. I probably needed it.

"Okay shoot, T.K.."

My jaw got hard. I swallowed and began.

"There are two things she said that stuck in my mind. We both know that suicide is a possible outcome when PTSD gets too severe. She might be there now. The other thing is the words she chose when talking about the death of Joo-Wan. 'I killed him. . . I had to . . . especially after what he did to you', that was the way she put it. So is it murder? Is she actually guilty of the charges . . . and how am I involved? Did she do it as some act of revenge . . . a pay-back for the thing with KAMALA?"

Sunny took a tortured breath, then gently placed her hand over mine.

"T.K., don't start blaming yourself. That sonovabitch is dead because he deserved it. You got into this shit to help an ex-student who trusted you when she trusted no one else. You're doing your best , but its tough. The stakes are high and there is real danger, but its not too late to back off. That fire could have killed you . . . it might even be what they really wanted. Maybe you've done all you could do. It's not a failure . . . its just being smart and staying safe. I'm not sure I can do without you."

"You make too damned much sense, like always, but I can't desert her now. As soon as I'm sure she's on stable footing . . . a least for a couple of days, I say we move forward with our little road trip. You don't have to go . . . might even be better if you don't."

"Okay, hard head, but I'm on board . . . no further discussion."

I wanted to hear from Sarah first. I did.

She thought the charges would be dropped. Raina was out, somewhat shaken, but it was all good. Sarah said the cops didn't really have anything . . . . just told her to stay in town until it was all cleared up. The girl's story made perfect sense. Tell her not to worry about a bill. I owe you one anyway.

I thanked her and told her I would check on Raina later.

Okay. I figured we would leave tomorrow. It was about a six hour drive, but we could go early, grab a sausage biscuit on the way and be there mid-afternoon. I could probably pull off my Academy Award performance and we could gather information or whatever. then drive back the next day. Not much of a plan, I admit . . . but it was the only one I could come up with.

Chapter Thirteen

She held the Sig tightly. It was still shiny with the gun oil from when she'd cleaned it not over a week ago. She'd liked Sarah and the attorney felt strongly that Raina could get off with self defense. She certainly had "stood her ground" . . . just from a slightly different perspective . . . but she knew she had picked the spot, planned it all, even bought a knife if she needed to plant the weapon to verify his supposed attack . . . and she had killed him . . . deliberately and viciously.

It all seemed so simple when she envisioned it, but killing was never simple . . . especially when you're the one doing it. And God knows, there are consequences you might never dream of . . . even in your worst nightmares. Raina had scarcely imagined that contacting an old professor would put him in harm's way, destroying his only home and making him a candidate for the morgue. She could end it all . . . shut the door on this mayhem. Maybe that would save him, but in some recess of her mind she knew she was already gone. Doc would find Su Jin if she could be found. Sunny would help him and they could go on chasing the art of living. Yeah . . . maybe this was the best way, but maybe she was just a coward . . . she couldn't do it . . . at least for now.

T.K. and Sunny were cruising north on the highway. The traffic wasn't too bad . . . still early for much of the madness of the Florida drivers. T.K. had the cruise control locked in at 78 mph, but a number of cars were whizzing by and snaking in and out of lanes. Turn signals? They'd been extinct since the mid nineties. He focused on the asphalt and watched out for the crazies , , , defensive driving? He was the reluctant master.

He and Sunny didn't talk much. Both of them ran private scenarios through their consciousness, but neither could fix on any inevitable. The only place their minds met was in danger. How to get to Su Jin and how to leave with her without some hideous violence.

Sunny checked her pocketbook for the fifth time. Her small pistol and the holster she would strap to her ankle were still in the side pocket of the large bag. It was loaded.

The slim woman, not much more than a girl, waited. She didn't know for what. It hurt between her legs, and this morning she had seen some blood in her urine. She sat on a bench in the back of the building. She glanced at the door. It was chained and padlocked. She wished she could cry, but she knew it would mess up her make-up and the Mama San would beat her, careful not to leave any noticeable marks, but still painful and effective.

She thought of her Luisa. At least she was safe with her grand parents. On the phone the child whimpered a bit and pleaded with her mother, "Mama, please come home. Please . . ."

She drove it from her mind. It would bring on the tears and the beatings that came with them. "This is for my child and my family." All good for business. That's what she told herself, and it gave her momentary comfort.

The traffic was mercifully light. They made good time and the GPS had led them precisely to the small strip center where The White Orchid sat innocuously between a frame shop and a local boutique. There were a few cars in the lot and fewer shoppers strolling the concrete sidewalk. "Manicures, Pedicures, & Massage. Treat yourself today. Only the best and the beautiful."

T.K. parked close to the front and got out. He had a feeling they'd been followed, but Sunny told him it was just his paranoia. He didn't see the gray Chevrolet that had aroused his suspicions. Sunny was probably right. He had to admit he was nervous, and repeating his performance at the spa in Key West wasn't very original, but hell, it had worked, and he didn't know Mama San from Mama Mia. He assumed she didn't know him.

"Sunny, stay in the car. Keep the motor running. This won't take long . . . that's if it works."

She started to speak, but her put his fingertips to her lips. She blinked a couple of times, but did what he asked. She bit her lip and dropped her head to her chest. The last thing T.K. heard before he opened the door was a protracted sigh.

The windows of the shop were all covered in posters . . . lovely Asian girls, sporting long elegant nails, and bright red lipstick. Each one smiled seductively, calling and promising different kinds of massages and treatments that promised to produce eternal youth and orgasmic satisfaction. T.K. put his hand on the glass door and produced a final image of Su Jin in his mind.

The lady behind the counter was middle aged, but striking and elegant in her own manner.

"Ah, welcome to the White Orchid. You find many things to like . . . beautiful girls willing and able to make your dreams real. Massage? Or perhaps a bit more to make memorable holiday."

I grinned and nodded. "Memorable is good for me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver money clip bulging with his last ten twenty dollar bills. He laid it on the counter. She smiled and bowed her head.

"You like see girls?"

"Oh yeah . . . but only the best and the most beautiful."

I pulled the money clip off the counter and waved it in the air. Then I dropped it casually into my front pocket. The Mama San pulled back the edge of a blue satin curtain. She snapped her fingers once and the the parade began. The first one had almond eyes and skin like an Asian figurine. She was gorgeous, but she wasn't Su Jin.

I removed my sunglasses ran my eyes up and down her magnificent shape. She winked at me, but I shook my head.

"Next."

She snapped her fingers again and another sailor's wet dream stepped from behind the curtain. Again I shook my head and patted my pocket. The next one came. It was Su Jin, handsome and graceful, but obviously hoping she wouldn't be chosen.

I stepped slowly up to her. Her face was even with mine.

"Friend of Raina. Follow me quickly," I whispered.

Mama smiled. "What I tell you?"

Then another voice. I knew this one. Mail Lin pointed.

"Mama San. This the man I told you about. He big professor. Make us close down in Key West. We must welcome him like he deserve."

She leered at me for a moment and the face became a serpentine hiss. I grabbed Su Jin's hand and turned toward the door. There was an Asian block of granite standing before it. He gripped a shiny stiletto and pointed it toward my throat. Suddenly two more giants appeared from behind the curtain.

"I like your shirt," Mama snarled, "but a splotch of red would nicely finish it off."

I instantly knew where the red splotch was coming from. Su Jin was trembling next to me, her hand hot and sweaty and very small in mine. We were the ones who were finished.

Mama San waved a hand toward the back of the shop. Giant number one placed a hand like a vise on my forearm. That's when the door burst open and a short snap sounded. A round buzzed by Mama's head and the other three ducked. Sunny dropped to one knee in a shooter's crouch and fanned the room with the blue barrel.

"Funny, I always seem to miss that first one, but I'm very good with the second."

She pointed the tiny Ruger directly at the at spot in the forehead of the proprietor. Mama San shook her head. She glanced at her band of thugs. The odds looked very impressive. Sh smiled and nodded to each of them.

"You're right, Mama. I can't get all of you . . . so I'll just take one. That'll be you, dragon lady . . . unless of course you send your boys back behind the curtain . . . but only after you tell them to leave the knives on the floor."

She stared at each one again, then waved the hand again. She looked like she couldn't quite believe this was happening, but her face had gone yellow with fear. She'd decided it wasn't worth the risk. Sunny glared as she drew the bead once more and pulled the hammer back with a hollow click. The scene seemed to jump right off the screen of a grade B detective show. But it was real and Mama was smart enough to figure it out.

I took a tentative step toward the door, then grabbed Su Jin and bolted. The Saab was running. I popped open the door and shoved her into the back seat. She ducked down and went into a fetal position. I slid into the driver's seat and pulled the lever for reverse. Another second and Sunny was out of the shop, folding frantically into the leather, her head down. She held the .22 out the window and fired a warning shot into the air. But Mama and her boys had taken my lovely savior seriously. Good thing, Sunny was definitely deadly with that second shot. As we scratched out of the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of a gray Chevrolet pulling into the the street. I couldn't make the driver, but Sunny was wrong about my paranoia. This was no time to discuss it.

Chapter Fourteen

Su Jin's English was a little broken, but communication among us was strong, if not somewhat slow. It didn't take long to see why Raina had called her a friend. She was smart, kind and very quick. Her first question was about Luisa and her parents.

"We are on our way there now. I have their address in the GPS. Why don't you call to tell them we are on our way?"

Sunny handed the cell to Su Jin.

"You are police? Protect me and and my family?"

"We are not Police, but we work with them. Raina helped us locate you, but she was unable to be here. You can trust us. Make the call. We will pick up Luisa, take you to Key West. Then it might be smart to make quick arrangements to leave town for some place where you are not known. I suspect Mama's pals will try to locate you . . . make an example out of you and Luisa. Fear is a powerful tool for creeps like that."

I thought I heard a muffled whimper. The she began to dial. They connected, speaking rapid fire Korean. At first her voice was strained, and she seemed to plead at times. But Su Jin's tone began to soften, and a note of confidence crept into it. I had to assume the conversation was getting better. After a minute more she hung up.

"They packing Luisa's things. She be ready to go when we get there."

That was good news. We didn't need to waste a second. I had no doubt Mama's henchmen would be on our tail very quickly. They would probably figure out where we were going. I just hoped they hadn't alerted any of their buddies in Miami. I kept it about five miles above speed limit. This was no time to stop for a chat with the local authorities.

We headed for the nearest Interstate entrance ramp. I 275 to I 11 then the crossover to I 75 to Fort Lauderdale. From there we'd only be twenty miles or so from North Miami and very close to Su Jin's parents.

Just before we reached the entrance I saw the gray Chevrolet scoot past us in a big hurry to get to Bradenton or some other destination southward. I feigned a yawn, but it wasn't boredom. It was relief and I had to admit Sunny was right again. I lowered my window and let my paranoia seep out with the warm breeze. The GPS promised an arrival in about four hours, traffic pending, of course, and there was always plenty of that in South Florida.

Su Jin was sitting perfectly still in the back seat, her knuckles pasted to her lips. Her eyes were narrowed, but still she looked like a small child standing at the edge of a cliff. Should she jump or stay put and see what happened? She didn't know, and neither did I. Sunny placed her hand on my thigh and gave me a squeeze. It distracted me for a minute, and I felt momentarily relieved. It didn't last long, but I forced a smile that was probably more of a grimace. She squeezed again.

The Saab was eating up the miles, but the time seemed to crawl. Nevertheless, we were pulling into a parking space in front of a tired concrete building with three plastic refuse cans sitting on the sidewalk. One them was turned over and a flood of wilting garbage had been strewn over the cracked surface. The smell assaulted our nostrils before we even got the doors of car open.

To the right of a short flight of brick steps, a tiny girl stood in the window. When she saw Su Jin, she clapped her hands and did a pirouette of sheer joy. She blew kisses through the dusty glass. Her mother scrambled up the steps, Sunny and I waited in the street. It didn't take long.

Mother and child burst out of the door, a brown suitcase in Su Jin's hand. They were in the back seat in an instant. I fumbled the key, but was able to pop it into the ignition and fire up the Saab. We were off and only two and a half hours from Key West. We navigated the Miami traffic and soon I could see the blue water of Biscayne Bay and smell the salt in the air. Somehow it soothed me, even though I knew we were a long way from out of trouble.

Su Jin hugged her daughter one more time and wiped a tear from her left eye. She made the appropriate introductions. I stared at Luisa through the rear view mirror while Sunny turned in the seat a flashed a million dollar smile at the two. The child had her mother's beauty and a sense of poise that seemed uncommon is one so young. There was control in her voice as she spoke.

"Gran and Papa say to tell you they are so sorry not to meet you, but they know we must hurry. They offer their thanks and say they are sure you will take good care of Mom and me."

The tiny princess smiled and seemed to preen for a moment, proud of her delivery of this important message among adults.

Chapter Fifteen

In a couple of hours we were pulling into an empty space on the street in front of Raina's apartment. The gray Chevrolet was behind us secured at the curb. So we were being followed, but not by any of the creeps. Su Jin had dozed at least part of the way, her arm tightly holding Luisa to her breast. They looked serenely peaceful, but every so often, Su Jin would blurt out something through her sleep. It was Korean. I couldn't understand, but there was something fearful and plaintive in it. Each time I would check the rear view mirror and she would clutch Luisa fiercely.

Raina must have been watching. She bounded down the concrete step and clasped Su Jin first, then Luisa. Tears flowed down the cheeks of the two women as they whispered into each others' ears. Raina reached into the pocket of her cutoffs and handed Luisa a huge stick of red and white candy. The beautiful child unraveled the cellophane and had it in her mouth in an instant. We all went into the apartment, but I decided to leave the women alone with Luisa. After all, there were plans to make and I didn't even want to know them. The danger wasn't past. Of that I was sure. Sunny hugged all three while I grinned and held the door.

We were on the dock and back at KAMALA within minutes. I poured both Sunny and me a double of Jameson and placed an icy bottle of water on the table between us. Mission accomplished. Neither of us spoke, but our glasses were raised in silent celebration.

I began to realize that I was exhausted. I ran through the day's events. So much could have gone wrong, and it could have ended with Su Jin, Sunny, or me dead. I shuddered and replayed it again. What else should I have done? Thank God Sunny hadn't listened to me and stayed in the car. The thing with the small pistol was like something from film noir. Robert Mitchum or Humphrey Bogart defying death and saving the hapless victims at the last second. Sunny . . . the hero . . . the savior. . . not the first time. Still I reminded myself it had worked. We were all safe, and hundreds of miles away from Mama's gang of thugs. I asked Sunny to stay the night. It didn't take much persuading. I cupped her naked breast in my hand. It was warm and slightly moist, the perfect fit. We were both asleep in minutes, Sunny snoring in my arms . . . just where she belonged.

I glanced at my watch when the phone rang. 7:10, much too early for any considerate caller to interrupt my snooze. I pushed the accept button on my cell. It was Raina.

"Three men. My door . . ." I heard what sounded like a gunshot and the line went dead.

Chapter Sixteen

Raina was in the depths of sleep. She and Su Jin had been up past midnight discussing options. None of them seemed too good. The only thing they agreed on was that they needed to take Luisa and get far away as soon as possible.

At first she thought it was a dream . . . something left over from the hideous day before . . . or God forbid, the return of the zombies . . . the lifeless creatures that stalked her with hollow, staring eyes that haunted her nights . . . and sometimes even her days. But the knock was insistent. Someone at the door, but who?

She stretched into her robe and stumbled toward the door. No one else was up. That was a good thing. Let them sleep . . . relax. She knew that the following hours would be wrought with stress and indecision, but they had to flee.

The first one was a white man in a tan suit. He was holding an unidentifiable ID card. He thrust it in her face, then snatched it away

"DCF. Florida Department of Children and Families. We're here for the child. There has been a report that she has been abducted and possibly abused. Please bring her out or we will be forced to come in to get her."

Raina was confused and frankly baffled. Who could have filed that kind of report? They'd only been in the apartment for a few hours. Luisa had been inside the whole time. She doubted anyone even knew they were here. She looked at the other two men. Both burly . . . both Asian . . . both faces in thinly veiled snarls.

"Just a moment. I'll get her," Raina said softly.

She slammed the door and turned the bolt just before Number One stabbed to block her with his foot. Raina ran back to her bedroom and pulled the Sig out of her nightstand. She grabbed her cell. The Doc was on speed dial. She barely rattled off a couple of words before she heard the pop and felt her thigh throb with something hard and fiery. The blood burst from the hole and the weapon skidded across the floor. She heard the child scream. then felt a violent thud to her temple. Now she sunk into the darkness.

T.K. popped up and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Sunny was right behind. She grabbed her Ruger and they bounded down the dock to the Saab. The old girl purred to life and they were off. He dialed Frank's cell.

"They've got them and the kid. Hurry. I heard a gunshot. We maybe too late."

I gave him the address and hung up. The minutes crept by even though we were close. We pulled in behind a semi-official looking Ford sedan. Nothing looked odd in front of the unit, but I though I heard a muffled scream. ,

Sunny and I were creeping up the sidewalk when the front door opened slowly. Sunny pointed the Ruger in that direction. A large Asian man peeked out through the crack, then slammed the wood into its frame. Another scream, this time louder. A different man appeared at the window. By then the police had arrived, sirens blaring, Three Blues in squad cars, and Frank in an unmarked popping out of the car doors, guns drawn, crouching behind the black and white. Sunny and I joined them, knees on the pavement, heads kept low.

I filled Frank in on what little I knew. He nodded silently and palmed his radio. I heard him call in a SWAT team and a hostage negotiator. Then a uniform grabbed a megaphone from the trunk of the car and handed it to Frank. He showed his head just above the hood and directed the sound.

"Detective Frank Beamon, Key West Police Department. You are trapped. The SWAT team is minutes away. There is no rear exit. Throw down your weapons and come out one by one with your hands locked behind your heads."

A hunk of lead dug into the fender of the squad car.

"Stupid asshole. We have them . . . the two women and the child . . . they are ours. Unhurt . . . at least for now. Back off immediately or we start shooting. The child will be first . . . then the women. We will throw the bodies out into the yard. Good viewing for the evening news."

Frank sighed, then bit his lip. Another shot whizzed over our heads. He lifted the megaphone.

"I repeat. You are surrounded. Let the women go and you will not be hurt. Weapons on the ground. Hands behind your heads."

Another shot . . . this one smashing through the window on the passenger side of the unmarked. I heard the truck behind us and six men dressed in fatigues crawled to various positions around the front of the apartment.

Frank again manned the radio. "Do you have a sniper assigned?" I heard a quiet yes.

Frank pointed to the window where the Asian man had appeared. I saw the curtains ruffle and the shadow of a head barely revealed. He was watching, waiting for something. No one was sure what. Then the voice from the apartment boomed.

"Okay, we are impressed. Now I guess we show you we are serious. In exactly one minute, I will kill the first woman. . . the mother of the child. She will soon appear at the door. Tell your sniper to be certain his aim is true. A dead woman makes a sad statement to the good citizens of your fine city . . . oh . . . and good luck, shit face.

Frank whispered into the radio and the SWAT Captain did the same.

I saw the brass door handle twist slowly and a rifle shot rang out. The Asian at the window staggered, then tumbled thorough the glass. The red fluid splashed on the stucco wall and he disappeared into the hedges. The front door burst open. Su Jin rolled down the steps and into the yard. I could see blood. She was still. I stood and readied myself to bolt for her body. Frank grabbed me just in time. Another bullet sliced through the air. Frank held my arm in a death grip and shook his head.

"Wait," he growled.

I strained for a moment, then obeyed.

The SWAT sniper had done his deadly best, but there were at least two of them left. Su Jin was probably dead, but Luisa . . . and I prayed Raina . . . might have a chance. It was up to us to see it was a good one. Frank raised the megaphone yet again.

"Okay, there are two of you. Murder One will be the charge. The death penalty. There's still time to make a deal. The DA will look favorably on anyone who spares a child."

"Yeah . . . right. Who are you shitting, fucking cop? Okay we're changing the order. The kid is next. Might as well say a little prayer. Then you can come get her body and the one dumb broad with the long brown hair. "

There was a shot from inside the building . . . then another. Then the silence.

We waited . . . maybe a minute that seemed like an hour.

Frank raised his hand and waved to the team. He held up three fingers and counted down . . . three, two, one. Hell was upon us. The men in camo stormed from all sides. The uniforms provided cover fire, but it was still . . . silent . . . like the graveyard it probably was.

We heard one more voice from behind the door. It cracked open and a hand slipped through. It gestured a surrender. The opening began to grow. She stood . . . bloody, but tall. Then she collapsed, rolled down the steps and onto the sidewalk. I ran to her and put my fingers to her neck. Raina was still breathing. It was a struggle, but she was alive. She was painted in the blood. She tried to speak, but the words slurred and finally wouldn't come at all. The EMT's were on the scene within minutes. One went to Raina, the other to Su Jin. She was crying, and begging for her child.

Luisa came to door, then darted for her mother. They embraced and keened into each others' breasts.

Two EMTs hovered over Raina, a white stretcher lying next to her. A thin black man in a light blue shirt fixed a tourniquet above the wound on her thigh while his partner plugged the hole with gauze and taped it in place. I could see her eyes and barely make out the rise and fall in her chest. I dashed to Su Jin as a patrolman stood guard. She sat up, her blouse doused in crimson.

"No worry." She pointed at the stains. "Blood of my friend. She save us."

The bodies inside . . . Number One was near the door with a bullet through his back, the gaping exit wound exploding right over the heart. The second Asian was at the entrance to the bedroom. Two holes, one in his ribs and another through his neck. The smell of blood permeated the fetid air. It was like something out of a Jackson Pollock . . . a thick red smeared and splattered over a ghostly canvas. The Sig was on the floor near the corner of the room like an evil thing cast aside by a careless child.

I caught the bile in my throat and looked at Sunny. Her face was deathly white and the Ruger hung limply at her hip.

After a woeful wail, Su Jin and Luisa packed into the back of the ambulance and it roared off, seriously intent on its mission. I waited for Frank. He came out sullen and quiet.

"Its enough T.K. Go on back to KAMALA. I know where to find you."

I turned and glanced at Sunny. She crawled into the passenger seat, still stunned and probably still terrified.

I know I was.

Chapter Seventeen

Food was the last thing on my mind. Not Sunny. She could eat in the middle of a nuclear war. It seemed to me like we'd just been through one. I did, however, need a drink. A strong one. We decided on The Raw Bar. It was close to the boat and they always gave a generous pour and served a great crusted snapper sandwich. Oh . . . and don't forget the hot crispy fries.

I parked the Saab and we walked across the dirt parking lot. I eyed the Betty Boop icon as we entered. I wish I could smile like that. Melvin, the semi-new bartender, waved at us. He knew we were friendly, patient, and always heavy tippers. Unfortunately I wasn't feeling too friendly or too patient at that moment. We waded to a table near the back with a lovely view of the water. It didn't help much, but a double Golden Margarita with two shots of Cuervo and a rim bathed in sea salt might just do the trick.

Sunny ordered a Captain's Platter and a large Moretti draft. Sea trout, shrimp, scallops, oysters, lump crab and a basket of fries. That might seem like a lot for a slender, shapely blond who was simply a natural beauty. If you think so, you probably don't know Sunny.

I was deep into my tequila when the food came. I was tired and the alcohol burned and bolted into my blood. I felt a little fuzzy, but what the hell? I didn't have to drive.

"So do you think we should go to hospital this afternoon?" I asked while she stuffed her mouth with fries.

She shook her head and I took another sip of my elixir, waiting for her to swallow.

"No. Raina will be out, doped up, most likely asleep. Probably should call just to check. In the morning we'll go . . . maybe even take her some flowers."

I liked the plan. I reasoned that Frank would look after Su Jin and Luisa. Then I finally decided to try the snapper. A healthy slather of tartar sauce and the wolf in me dug in. The rest of the afternoon was short. Sunny decided to go home. I decided to go to sleep. Hey, works for me. We agreed to breakfast at Pepe's around nine.

I called the hospital before I passed out in the V-berth. Raina had lost a lot of blood, but she was resting well and there was no sign of any internal damage. I thanked a lady who identified herself as Nurse Davis and fell into my best snooze mode.

You can't beat Pepe's for breakfast, especially after a shave and a hot shower. The western omelet, four hunks of link sausage, a heaping serving of home fries and I was set. Sunny ate the same and ordered a side of buttermilk pancakes with butter and syrup and two home made biscuits sealed the deal. Two coffees apiece and we were ready to go check on Raina. Sunny had already picked some hibiscus and oleander, a fitting Florida bouquet in a mason jar.

The hospital was just a few miles away and we were parked within 15 minutes. We rode the elevator to the third floor. A handsome middle aged lady in gleaming white was at the information desk.

"Hi. I spoke to you on the phone yesterday. We're here to see Raina."

She drummed her fingers on the counter for a few seconds and her smile became something reflecting concern, possibly even fear. She ran her tongue over her lips and huffed. The words came slowly.

"She's not here. The child and her mother stayed in the room with her all night. Then she checked herself out. Doctor Boynton wouldn't sign the release. He tried to reason with her, then pleaded, and was finally stern. None of it worked. She insisted she was fine and that her friend would take care of her. She asked that I call a taxi. I resisted, but when it was obvious she was going no matter what, I finally gave in. I asked for a number where we could reach her. She nodded politely, said thanks, then limped to the elevator on the arm of her friend."

So they let her go? How the hell could they do that? But I knew how tough Raina could be. Once she'd made up her mind, she didn't understand the word 'no'. Sunny had been listening. She grabbed my forearm arm and we turned to go.

We got in Saab and headed to her apartment. The yellow police tape was on the ground, the front door slightly open. I called her name . . . then Su Jin's. Nothing. The place was much the same as yesterday. The same mess . . . the same blood. After a quick tour of the rooms, Sunny and I headed back out front. Suddenly I realized the Gray Chevrolet was gone.

I tried her cell, but it went to message. I told her we were worried about her and to please call as soon as possible. She didn't.

I dialed Frank. He didn't know anything except she was gone. After all, she wasn't under arrest. The charges against her for Joo Won's death had been dropped . . . self-defense. Florida's Stand Your Ground Law was fully recognized and the two at the apartment were both "righteous kills." There was no justification to post a guard at the hospital. He had asked her not to leave town until it was all cleared up, but it surely looked like she had . . . and probably with Su Jin and Luisa in tow.

Sunny and I talked endlessly, but it went nowhere. The only thing we knew was that she wanted to get out of Key West . . . very quickly. Somehow I didn't blame her.

About a week later I was doing some maintenance on KAMALA. For some odd reason those things were getting more difficult, and if I planned a couple of hours, it would take a minimum of four. The sun was glaring and I was sweating like a racehorse that had just run the Derby. I went below for a Modelo and sat for a moment to catch my breath. My cell was on the table flashing.

I had a text. No ID or return number.

"Doc, don't try to find me. We are all safe. Maybe even better than that. Luisa is in school. The Zombies are gone . . . no nightmares in a week. Much love to you and Sunny. Thanks. R."

I showed it to Sunny when she came by the boat for a sundowner. We agreed it was all we needed to know.

Epilogue

Frank and I were at Mama's for some fine chimichanga, hot crispy chips and salsa, and a big serving of coddling from our favorite bundle of Latina mothering. We got it all in ample amounts. Of course, the conversation turned to Raina and the case.

"Forgot to tell you. The Feds picked up the pieces. Its in their lap now. The massage parlors have all been shut down. Charges of Trafficking with plenty of reliable evidence. A few arrests and more to come. We're on call, but still on the periphery. We've stopped looking for Raina and her friend. Her testimony would be nice, but they really don't need it."

I nodded and wiped a bit of the red stuff off my lower lip. Frank shot me one of those phony quizzical stares.

"Oh . . . by the way . . . if you should hear from her . . ."

His voice dripped with sarcasm, and maybe a touch of accusation. The proverbial pregnant pause.

" . . . you can tell her she's clear. I sure wouldn't want to ump her in a dark alley. Dangerous Lady, but she can come and go at will in Key West. Oh . . . and Su Jin doesn't need to stay in the shadows. Somehow her records have been "misplaced."

"Well, If I do hear from her, I'll convey your message. Too bad about those records."

"Yeah . . . well, you know these things happen."

He grinned and stuffed an entire taco into his mouth. It was damned near disgusting.
