Savannah Breeze (34 page)

After his big night
on the town, Granddad was looking a little washed out. His hands trembled slightly as he fiddled with his bow tie, and his eyes had dark circles beneath them.

“Are you sure you're up to this?” I asked as he folded himself into the front seat of the Buick.

“Why wouldn't I be?” he snapped.

“I got the impression you might have been, uh, overserved last night.”

“I'm fine as frog hair,” Granddad insisted. “You worry about your job. I'll worry about mine. Have you got the check?”

“Got it,” I said, patting the envelope on the front seat.

“Just let me do the talking,” Granddad said. “I've been in business and banking a lot longer than you, young lady.”

“Yes, sir,” I said meekly.

When the Bank of America branch across the street from Bahia Mar marina opened its doors at nine o'clock on Friday, Granddad and I were the first customers in the door.

I needn't have worried. He marched up to the customer-service desk in the bank's lobby and held Randall's check out to the woman seated there.

“Young lady, I need to know which local branch this check is drawn on.”

She took a sip of her coffee, looked at me, and then back at him.
But she took the check, started tapping on the keys of her computer, and soon had an answer.

“This account was opened at our Broward Plaza branch,” she said. “It's about two miles from here. Do you know the shopping center?”

“I do,” I volunteered.

“Anything else I can do for you?” she asked.

“Not a thing,” Granddad said, with an abbreviated tip of his straw cap.

We drove on to Broward Plaza. Once inside, Granddad again approached the customer-service desk, which was manned by a Hispanic woman in a bright orange jacket. Her nameplate said she was “Veronica Gallegos.”

“Hello, Miss Gallegos,” Granddad said, sweeping off his hat.

“Hello,” she said, looking up and dimpling at the sight of such gallantry. “Can I help you?”

He produced Randall's check. “My name is Spencer Loudermilk. I'd like to open an account at your bank this morning, and deposit this check.”

She took the check, nodded, and started rummaging in her desk for the proper forms. “Won't you sit down?”

“Thank you,” Granddad said, seating himself and gesturing to me. “This is my granddaughter and business partner, BeBe Loudermilk. We'll want to make her cosigner on the account.”

“Fine. Will this be a business or personal account?” she asked.

“Business,” he said. “S and L Yacht Sales.”

“And will you require checking and savings?”

“Just savings,” Granddad said.

She nodded and pushed some papers across the counter for him to fill out. He wrinkled his forehead and gave me a nod. “Granddad's having some vision problems this morning,” I told her.

Ms. Gallegos waited until I'd filled out the forms, then sat and tapped the information into her computer. Ten minutes later, she was handing us a bank book.

I filled out the savings-deposit slip and handed it to her. “Just one other thing,” I said.

“We'll be depositing a very large check this afternoon, probably drawn on the same account as that check we just gave you. There won't be any problem with the funds clearing, will there?”

She frowned. “It's a cashier's check. Funds are guaranteed, and the check you've given me is for an account opened right here at this branch. But I can check and see if there are sufficient funds, if you like.”

Ms. Gallegos tapped some more keys, and then stared at the computer screen. “I should think there are sufficient funds in this account for a very substantial withdrawal.”

Granddad stood up and tipped his hat again. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“See you soon,” I said.

Granddad was humming softly as we drove back to the Mango Tree.

“What's that song?” I asked.

He frowned. “You don't recognize it?”

“No,” I said. “But it's nice. What's it called?”

“‘To Each His Own,'” Granddad said, humming another bar. “That's our song, Lorena's and mine. It was a big hit in our day. We'd get all dressed up and go dancing just about every Saturday night. There was the Bamboo Ranch in Garden City. We used to listen to Buddy Livingston's band. Had four sisters who could really sing—Irene, Darlene, Marlene, and Earlene. And then there was Remler's Club Royale on Victory Drive. That's where we heard ‘To Each His Own' for the first time.”

“Funny,” I mused. “I was married to two different men, and I don't think we ever had an ‘our song.' Come to think of it, we didn't do too much dancing, either. Maybe at an occasional wedding or something. Or at the Telfair Ball.”

Granddad snorted and shook his head.

“What?”

“Sandy was an all right person. Nice family and all. But he wasn't the right man for you. Never was. And as for Richard!”

“Don't start,” I warned. “I've admitted he was a huge mistake. I think I should get a…what's that word they use in golf? When you take a bad stroke and it doesn't count?”

“A mulligan.”

“Yeah. Richard was my mulligan.”

“You know what a Silverstein is?” he asked, getting a glint in his eye.

“The people who owned that jewelry store on Broughton Street where the Starbucks is now?”

“No. In golf, if you hit an absolutely unbelievable shot, the other guy can yell ‘Silverstein' and then you have to take that shot over. It's like a joke on the golfer.”

“I don't get it.”

“You wouldn't,” Granddad said. “Me and Lorena, we'd be a Silverstein. And I'd do it all over again. Every minute of it.”

At the next red light, I leaned over and kissed him. “Old softie.”

He cleared his throat. “I have something to say. I wasn't going to bring this up at all, but since you mentioned the subject, I feel it's my duty to tell you something.”

“Uh-oh.”

“It's about Harry.”

I felt my face color. “Look, Granddad—”

“He's a fine man, BeBe. An honorable man. He's decent and hardworking. Not afraid to get his hands dirty. And he appears quite taken with you. So, I just want to say that if the two of you—”

“Can we just skip this?” I pleaded. “No offense, but I'm really not comfortable talking about my love life with you.”

“I'm just saying.”

I started humming to drown him out. “I'm not listening.”

“Don't screw it up,” Granddad said. “No more mulligans.”

I thought BeBe's grandfather
was going to have a stroke, right there in the 7-Eleven, when the clerk told him the price of a six-pack of Heineken. “Six dollars and eighty-seven cents? For beer?” He mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. “I've got suits I didn't pay that much for.”

“Que?”
the cashier said.

“Never mind,” I said, putting the money on the counter. “I'll get this.”

“Absolutely not!” Spencer said, slapping his hand over mine. “I forbid it. German beer! This is what we get for agreeing to the Marshall Plan.”

“Spencer!” I hissed. “Let's just pay for the beer and go. It's getting close to noon. Reddy will be at the boat anytime now. And Harry really needs this beer. And the tarp.
Before
Reddy gets there.”

“We'll go to another store,” Spencer decided, turning his back on the counter. “It's these durned convenience stores. Highway robbers, all of 'em.”

“Never mind the beer,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was after eleven. “Let's just go on over to the marina. I'll buy Harry some beer afterward.”

“All right with me,” Spencer grumbled, getting into the passenger seat of the Buick. “Still don't see why he needs a tarp, of all things.”

BeBe and I had decided not to share Liam's fate with Spencer. We
felt it might dampen his enthusiasm for the day's events. I know it dampened mine.

“I think it's a boat kind of thing,” I said. “Harry understands all this stuff.”

Lame!
I thought.

We were halfway down the dock at Bahia Mar when we spotted Harry, hurrying to meet us. His shirt was drenched through with sweat, his face sunburned.

“What took you guys so long?” he asked. “We've got to get this show on the road. I've already seen Rory ride by twice.”

“Sorry,” I said, handing over the bag with the plastic tarp. “Home Depot was packed, and I got a little confused and took a wrong turn out of the shopping center.”

“You know what they charge for a six-pack of that German beer you like?” Spencer demanded. “Nearly seven bucks!”

“We had to skip the beer,” I told Harry. “Time constraints.”

“I gotta get that guy loaded and moved,” Harry muttered. “Did you leave the trunk of the Buick unlocked?”

“What guy?” Spencer asked.

“That's just, uh, yacht talk, for equipment,” I said quickly.
Lame!

“I'm gonna get one of the three-wheeled carts from the dockmaster's office to load the, uh, equipment,” Harry said, turning back in the direction he'd come from. “I'll meet you guys at the
Reefer.
”

“I'll go on ahead,” I told Spencer, who was strolling at a leisurely pace. “I need to pack my stuff that's in the master stateroom.”

When I got to the
Reefer,
Emma popped her head out of the galley. Her face was pale. “Oh my God, Weezie,” she whispered. “We've got trouble.”

“I know,” I said. “I didn't want to hurt Liam. Just put him to sleep for a little while so he'd quit pawing me. But he was going to spoil everything.”

“It's not Liam,” she said urgently. “It's Doobie.”

“You mean Harry?”

“I mean the
real
Doobie Bauers,” she said. “Anya just called. The real Anya. Doob went AWOL from Betty Ford. Yesterday. She thinks he's headed down here.”

“No,” I said. “He can't. Not now.”

“That's what I said. Anya checked. He bought a one-way ticket to Fort Lauderdale.” She checked her watch. “His plane should be landing right about now.”

“No, no, no,” I wailed. “This can't be happening.”

Harry trundled the cart over the gangplank from the dock. “What can't be happening? Did Liam wake up?”

“It's Doobie,” Emma said. “He's here. In Fort Lauderdale.”

“Christ,” Harry said, dropping the cart's handles with a thump.

“What else did Anya say?” I asked.

“She was actually asking for Liam,” Emma said. “At the time I didn't realize you had him tied up and handcuffed in the gear locker.”

“What's that?”

The three of us turned around to see Spencer standing motionless on the gangplank. “You've got the first mate tied up?”

“It's a long story,” I said. “He was going to double-cross us and sell the
Reefer Madness
to Rory himself.”

“And what's that you were saying about Doobie?” Spencer asked, joining us on the sundeck.

“He's run away from the drug rehab, and he's headed here. To the
Reefer Madness,
” Emma said. “He told his roommate that he was gonna come down here, load up the
Reefer,
and make a run for Bimini. Anya was calling to tell Liam that under no circumstances is he to let Doobie take the boat out. She's on her way here too.”

The sun was beating down on my head, I could feel sweat dripping down my back, and my stomach was doing flip-flops. “We've got to get out of here,” I said. “If Doobie shows up here and finds out what's going on, we'll all go to jail.”

“Calm down,” Harry said. “Nobody's going to jail, unless it's Roy Eugene Moseley. Here's what we're gonna do. Emma, you're the
only one who actually knows Doobie. How will he get here from the airport? Does he have a car there?”

“No. Anya usually arranges to have a limo pick them up. But when Doobie comes alone, he just calls the boat and has Liam swing by the airport.”

“Let's hope he does that this time too,” Harry said fervently. “Stay by the phone, okay? If he calls, tell him Liam's busy, but you'll pick him up. You've got a car, right?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Assuming he calls, you pick him up, and then you stall. Tell him you have to buy groceries, take him to the liquor store, but whatever you do, don't come back here until we call and give you the all's clear.”

“But what if he doesn't call? What if he just takes a cab? I mean, with Doob, you never really know what he's gonna do,” Emma said.

“I'll stay by the phone here,” I volunteered. “If he calls, I'll just tell him I'm Liam's girlfriend, and that he's out running errands. In the meantime, maybe you could just kind of hang around out front, then you can intercept him as soon as he gets here.”

“And then what?”

“Stall,” Harry said. “Doesn't matter how. Just keep him the hell away from the marina. You've got a cell phone, right?”

She held it up.

“Good. Give me the number. I'll call you as soon as the deal's done. Remember, don't let him anywhere near the dock.”

She told Harry her number and he punched it into his cell phone.

Emma picked up an oversize canvas gear bag. “Good luck, you guys,” she said.

“Weezie,” Harry said, “I've got some tinkering to do in the pilothouse, and the engine room. There's no time to waste. You and Spencer stay up here and watch out for Rory. Same thing as with Doobie. If he does show up while I'm still tinkering, you'll have to stall. Don't let him onboard until I tell you.”

“How?” I wailed.

“Rory likes you, right?” Harry said. “Use your charms.”

“I
have
no charms. I'm so scared, I think I might puke.”

“No puking,” Harry said sternly. “Spencer, you're her wing man. Keep her calm and keep Rory
off
this boat.”

“Right,” Spencer said, snapping a salute. But Harry didn't return it because he was already climbing the stairs to the pilothouse.

“Right,” Spencer said. “Let's get busy then. You said you needed to get your stuff out of the master stateroom, right?”

“Right,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Crap,” I said. “Liam! What do we do about Liam? He's still tied up in the gear locker. What if he tries to get out when Rory's aboard?”

“I'll deal with Liam,” Spencer said. “The double-crossing bum. You just get your stuff packed up. Load it in this cart Harry brought down.”

“All right,” I said. “The sooner I get off this tub, the better.”

It didn't take long to pack my stuff. I'd only brought a pair of pajamas, my overnight bag, and one of my Anya Bauers sundresses. I threw everything in the bag, then took one more look around the stateroom to make sure I hadn't missed anything.

That's when I remembered Doobie's stash. I opened the closet door, unzipped the bag, and shook out half a dozen of the magic blue pills into my hand. I put the bag back where I'd found it, closed the closet door, and went out to the galley.

It wasn't even noon yet, but I needed a drink. Just a little nerve calmer. Unfortunately, I didn't think we had any elephant tranquilizers in stock.

Instead, I fixed a pitcher of Bloody Marys. I was just adding the celery salt and Tabasco when Spencer came back. He was natty as ever today, in a pair of navy blue slacks and a white golf shirt under a pale yellow sport coat, all of which I'd picked up at the Junior League Thrift Shop.

“Cocktail?” I asked, holding up the pitcher.

He glanced at his watch. “It's five o'clock somewhere,” he said cheerfully.

“How's Liam?” I asked, sipping my own drink.

“He seems a little restless,” Spencer said, squeezing some lime into his glass.

“Oh God.” I dumped the rest of my drink down the drain. No amount of liquor would do the trick now.

“Not to worry,” Spencer said. “You girls did a fine job tying him up. He's not going anywhere for the time being.”

“We've got to get him off this boat,” I said, drumming my fingers on the stainless-steel countertop. “And me. I want out. I want to go home. I want my dog. I want my boyfriend. Heaven help me, I think I even want my mama.”

Spencer patted my hand. “There, there. It'll all be just fine. It's almost over.”

“Almost,” Harry repeated, sticking his head in the galley. “I've taken care of some mechanical adjustments. I'm gonna go clean up, then I'll join you on the sundeck.”

“What about Liam?” I repeated.

“Too late to move him now,” Harry said. “But don't worry, we'll get him off.”

“Bloody Mary?” Spencer said, holding up the cocktail shaker.

Harry shook his head no. “Wish I had a Heineken.”

By noon, the three of us had arranged ourselves artfully around a table, under an umbrella on the sundeck. Harry produced a deck of cards, and he and Spencer played gin rummy as though they hadn't a care in the world.

By one, my nerves were raw. The phone didn't ring. People came and went up and down the dock, but there was no sign of Rory Mason. At one-fifteen, Emma called from the parking lot. “Have you guys heard anything?”

“Nothing,” I said. “No sign of Doobie up there?”

“No. I even tried calling Anya in Nashville. She doesn't answer.
There's a flight out of Nashville that gets in here at four. Unless she took the nonstop, in which case she could be here in half an hour.”

I put the phone down. “Maybe I will have a drink.”

At one-thirty, Rory Mason strolled aboard the
Reefer Madness
like he owned it. He had a knapsack slung over his shoulder and a wide, carefree smile on his face.

The change in Harry was instantaneous. He slumped down in the chair. “Gawddamnit, you're late. Never mind. I changed my mind. Gonna keep the gawddamned boat.”

Rory looked from me to Harry to Spencer.

“Doobie's kidding,” I said quickly. “He's not used to waiting for people. I told you, he's on edge. Going right back into the studio as soon as we get back to Nashville.”

“Shut up, Anya,” Harry ordered. “Don't talk about me like I'm not here. Whyn't you go fix Rory here a drink, while the grown-ups get down to business. Check around, make sure you got all your shit packed up. And I mean all of it.”

I got up and nearly ran for the stateroom. I picked up my overnight case, looked around, and then headed for the galley. And then Harry's words struck me. Make sure I had
all
my stuff, he'd said.

What about Liam? We couldn't just leave him in the gear locker, could we? But then again, we couldn't very well move him now, not right under Rory's nose.

I ran to the bow of the boat and stood very still outside the gear locker. It was quiet. My stomach lurched. Liam, I decided, would be Rory's problem. Just as soon as I got off this boat and out of this marina. And this state.

I was gathering up a tray with the pitcher of Bloody Marys and some glasses when the phone rang. I grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Hey. Who's this?” a stranger's voice demanded.

I put the pitcher down and took a deep breath. “This is Eloise. I'm Liam's friend.”

“Well, this is Doobie. Tell Liam to get his sorry ass out to the
airport to pick me up. And tell him I wanna be underway by four o'clock. No excuses.”

“Uh, well, Liam isn't here right now,” I said. “I'll send Emma, okay?”

“Shit,” Doobie said. “I wanted Liam to pick up some stuff for me. Never mind. Tell Emma to get over here. And when Liam comes back, tell him to go to the candy store. We're gonna need a lot of candy on this trip.”