Unsure of what she should do now, she watched him flop down at his dinette and put his head on the table. Turning to leave, she said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"No, wait," he said listlessly.
"Sleep it off, Gabe. Today has been bad enough without having to deal with a drunk."
His eyes were bloodshot, his tanned face pasty under the dim overhead light. "I'm not drunk. We held a wake for the guy who owned my trailer and it turned into an all-day affair." He stroked the smooth surface of the dinette, then, looking around the interior as if seeing it for the first time, said, "Guess it's mine now. I'd say it's about the same size as a federal prison cell, wouldn't you?"
Not drunk,
just
feeling sorry for himself.
"Saw your boat go out today," he said. "Thought you decided to go home."
"I went for a sail." So she thought to unburden herself to someone who understood her, who would empathize with her position, stuck as she was investigating a crime in a foreign country. Silly now to imagine she might be able to think that person would be Gabe.
He rubbed at the bloodshot eyes. "Well, then… hungry?" The sagging cheeks lifted in a lopsided smile. She hated this, seeing him dull-witted and boozy.
"Then would you like a drink? No beer but I got whiskey… ah, not whiskey. I remember, rum and coke, right? That's still your drink of choice, isn't it?"
The gesture, serving her up her favorite cocktail, made her feel ashamed of herself. Unlike her, Gabe had nowhere to go.
"Okay. Light on the rum please." Besides, after today she could use one.
He nodded, got up, threw open cupboard doors and handed her an ice and Coke topped with a splash of rum, a slice of lemon on the edge, and laid the glass on a cocktail napkin in front of her.
She smiled. "That was very smartly done."
"Tended bar in Panama for a while."
No doubt he'd held twenty temporary jobs while he was on the run.
She pushed at the ice in the drink with a finger and said, "My boat was broken into today, Gabe. The cushions slashed and Raul
Vignaroli's
list of witnesses taken."
He reached out and took her hands in his, genuine worry on his face. "You weren't there? Thank God. I told you to give the tumbler on that lock a good couple of spins. You should stay here tonight. "
She pulled her hands out of his.
"I locked it before I left and if it hadn't been for the slashed cushions, I would've thought it a job by a pro. The B&E guys I know wouldn't have made such a mess of my things."
Gabe snorted. "And you think those slashed cushions were no more than a momentary lapse of good manners by some burglar? You're not safe on that boat anymore, and the Mexicans are no match for the likes of someone with Spencer Bobbitt's influence. You should stay here with me."
"Thanks, Gabe, but that's not going to happen. The police arrested him this morning," she said, carefully watching his reaction. Hadn't he told her he didn't know Spencer or Booth? "They got an anonymous tip about the weapon that shot the girl and it's no surprise that it belongs to Spencer Bobbitt. Want to guess where they found it?"
He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at a shadowy corner of his trailer.
To keep her disappointment in check, she knocked back the last of her drink. "Someone dumped it into that arroyo that meanders under the footpath up to your trailer park. Any thoughts on how it got there?"
He swirled the ice in his drink before answering. "You don't think I had anything to do with killing that girl, do you?"
"Gabe, you've been here all along, you found Booth's blackmail tape… unless you've had it all along and you were in on it with him."
"No!"
"Then did you find it or did you take it from him before you pushed him into the water to drown?"
Gabe's eyes widened. "I swear to you, I didn't have anything to do with Booth going into the water." Then he blinked. A tell she knew well from her training as an investigator in the SFPD. He
was
keeping something from her and the knowledge of it made her ill.
"But you had something to do with the other one? The girl? Did you drop that gun in the arroyo? Were you there, in on it with Spencer Bobbitt? Tell me, what did you
do
!"
"Kat, you know me
better'n
anyone. I may be a lot of things, but I'm no killer."
She waited.
He reached up to wipe away the beads of sweat layered his forehead. "You really have changed, haven't you?"
"I'll take that as a compliment. So, start talking."
"Whatever you do, don't turn your back on Spencer Bobbitt."
"I don't see any cloven hooves on the man."
"Yeah, well you won't until you feel the pitchfork up your ass."
"You speaking from personal experience?"
He sighed deeply, as if his broad shoulders were unhappily carrying around the weight of too many secrets. Then he got up and took the drink glasses over to the sink and sloshed soap in them, then sluiced water around each and set them in a wire rack to dry. He turned back to her and leaning against the counter, said, "Ever hear the story about the blind mule? No? Well, Buddy wouldn't pull his own weight unless the farmer pretended he had another mule in harness. He'd call out, 'Giddy-up Buddy, giddy-up Dandy.'"
Already exhausted from her long day his delaying tactics were beginning to grind on her last nerve. "Is there a moral to this story?"
"Yes, there is. Chief Vinegar is letting you do his dirty work and you're just as alone in the job as old Buddy the mule. You shouldn't be here, doing any of this shit, not on my account. I told you I can take care of myself, fade into the back hills, hitch a ride south on a boat or a truck. There's no reason why you should put yourself in harm's way."
She didn't bother to remind him that she was just as stuck here as he was. "I appreciate that, Gabe."
He sat down again, rubbing at his scalp as if a genie might appear and make it all better. "I was outside, having a smoke. Heard this sound, like a mewling kitten. After it didn't stop, I followed the sound and found her. I was afraid to pick her up, she was bleeding pretty bad. If I'd only known …."
"Known what—that I'd be the one who would find her floating on a patch of sea-grass out in the Pacific? Are you saying that you dumped her in the water to drown?" Shocked, Katy was furious.
He put up a shaky hand to ward off the expected slap. "No, that's not the way—I…
I was going for help when I bumped into Booth. He said he'd make the call if I'd stay with her. I did and he came back with a Mexican kid…"
"It was a Mexican kid attacked me after I left your place a few nights ago."
He licked at his lips and continued, "…and brought a blanket. I thought they were going to take her to the hospital. Come on, Katrina, don't look at me like that! Mexico has free medical care but you've got to have a way to get there and I don't have a car. And I couldn't call an ambulance, either 'cause I didn't have the cash to pay for it, but Booth did, or at least, he
said
he'd take
care of it."
"Did you see Booth the next day? Ask
him
what happened to the girl?"
His face lost all expression.
Of course he didn't. It might involve the police and where his passport might be—things that could get him thrown into jail. And there was the obvious exchange of favors to consider. He had kept it secret, thereby banking a favor should Spencer be the killer and that might come in handy. At least he understood that Spencer's pitchforks and cloven hooves were no match for what he owed Katrina Taylor Hunter.
"Then instead of taking her to the hospital, Booth threw her into the sea to drown."
Gabe sighed deeply and gazed at the fly specks on his ceiling. "It may have happened that way, I wasn't there, I swear."
Katrina suddenly felt sick and claustrophobic. She stood up. "You'd better be telling the truth, Gabe, or I swear, this time I'll let you rot in a Mexican jail."
He gulped, mashing his callused hands together in a knot. "Katy, I've been eaten up with the guilt of it—but what else could I do?"
He looked up at her. "What a fine reunion this has turned out to be, huh?"
Reunion? She had the insane desire to throw back her head and howl with laughter. Their so-called reunion started out in the police station and just like last time, had all the earmarks of a train wreck.
Back on her boat, she started a new list and this time she chose a hiding place where no man would consider looking… a
Tampax
box.
Someone had carried the bleeding girl to a car, but instead of taking her to the hospital where she might've been saved, they chose to take her to the RV park instead. Was that because they hoped to incriminate Gabe or was it to dump the responsibility for the body on him?
Could the timid Wally have what it takes to murder a teenager in order to incriminate Spencer and secure the patronage of his mistress? No, surely not Wally. He'd been the first to jump in the marina water to help secure Booth's body into the sling.
Too weary to brush her teeth, she did remember to put in the hatch boards that would keep the kitten from wandering off the boat, but since her only working fan was in the main cabin, she left open all the portholes in the off-chance a breeze would cool the interior. Then she put away the list and crawled into her bunk. Tomorrow, she would find a way to tell Raul about Gabe finding the girl and Booth coming to move her.
A persistent knocking jerked Katy up and out of her bed. The sun was up. She looked at her watch; it was already nine a.m. "Who is it?" she called, pulling on her shorts and a sweatshirt.
Astrid was standing outside, anxiously scanning the dock.
"Good morning, Astrid," she said, looking around the quiet dock. "I'm just up, but come aboard and I'll make some coffee."
Astrid scrambled aboard and down the companionway so fast that Katy hardly had time to get out of the girl's way. At the sight of the settee and its missing cushions she visibly shuddered. "Oh. It's true, then!
Someone slashed your cushions. I didn't do this!" she said, pointing at the flat wood peeking up between mismatched cushions. "That's… that's just not me, you know?"
"Why would anyone think
you
did it?"
The girl's green eyes widened. "Jeff thinks…
Look, I'm crazy jealous when he talks to other girls, I can't help that. I love the big dope, an' now he's all mad at me and stuff. I just thought…"
"What?" These two girls were going to be in for a major surprise when they learned he was a pro at conning women.
"Well, if you could talk to him, tell him I didn't do it. He'll believe you."
"He'll believe me, but not you? Is that because you have a history of lying?"
"That's not true! It's just that I can get in and out of really small places like you wouldn't believe. I'm Fred's best assistant ever, just you ask him if you don't believe
me
."
"So, is this a part-time job or is there school or something else for you when you go home?"
"I… I haven't decided about college yet."
"You look like you work out."
"That's how I met Jeff," she gushed. "At a gym in Ventura. We're leaving for Puerto Vallarta soon as… soon as he gets some things settled. It's just about the most romantic place in the world to get hitched, you know?"