Wreckers' Key (19 page)

At that moment I wanted to be just about anywhere on earth but there. I stood. “I’m really sorry that I wasted your time.”

“You’re damn right. Not to mention your own.”

I was standing on the seawall staring down at my Whaler trying to decide what rock I could go crawl under when I heard someone call my name. This time I recognized the voice.

“Ben. What are you doing up here?”

He walked over and gave me a hug, and we both hung on a little longer than just friends should. He was wearing a tropical print shirt made of a smooth fabric that felt incredibly sensuous as I slid my hands up his back and over the muscles in his shoulders.

“Hey, lady, it’s good to see you again. We got to stop meeting like this,” he said with a laugh.

I thought about Molly and B.J. snuggled up together studying.

I held my hands out in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know, Ben. It works for me. What are you doing up here?”

He pointed to one of the outdoor tables in front of the Downtowner. “I’m having lunch with my grandfather. I drove up this morning for his birthday. Come on over. I’ll introduce you.”

The man sitting at the table we approached had a head that reminded me of one of those dried-apple dolls. It looked as though his nose, in the drying-out process, had curled right down over his bristly white mustache. He was wearing faded navy Dickies work pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and those heavy tan lace-up work boots.

“Gramps, this is Seychelle.” The old man stood and stuck out his hand. His grip was firm and dry, but I could feel the loose skin sliding over the bones in his hand. His fingernails were black with dirt. “Gramps here is also Benjamin Baker, but everybody calls him Old Ben.”

“I’m pleased to meetcha,” he said. “Seems I saw you a time or two over at Junior’s house when Ben here was just a kid.” His eyes had the bloodshot and watery look of a serious drinker.

“You probably did,” I said, glancing at Ben. “We spent lots of time together back in those days.”

“’Course Junior sold that house now. He bought some gaddamn mansion out west. Out in what used to be Everglades when I first come here back in ’46. Why don’t you sit down and join us? We was just fixin’ to have some lunch.”

“I don’t want to impose,” I said, when really, I felt awkward with the conversation about Ben’s parents.
 

“What that you say?” The old man pointed to his ear.
 

I tried forcing the volume up. It felt like I was shouting. “I said I don’t want to impose. Ben said it’s your birthday.”

“Shit. Much as I love my grandson here, I’d be a whole lot happier spending my birthday looking at a pretty woman. Besides, I think my grandson’s got a thing for you, miss.”

“Gramps!” Ben said. He turned to me and rolled his eyes. “Just ignore him.”

I sat on the edge of the chair Ben had pulled out for me. “I can only stay for a few minutes. I’ve got to go to this symposium thing this afternoon.”

“What would you like to drink, young lady?” The old man waved at a waitress, but she was already bringing me a cold Corona with a lime wedged in the neck. Old Ben nudged me with a bony elbow. “They know your drink in a bar, you must be a drinker.” He pointed to his own empty highball glass and twirled his finger. The waitress nodded. I noticed the younger Ben was only drinking water.

“What’s this about a symposium?” he asked.

When I started to speak, Old Ben cupped a hand behind his right ear.

“I just heard about it yesterday. A bunch of the tow-boat operators are getting together at the IGFA—the International Game Fish Association—this afternoon to talk about the business. I don’t know that it will do any good, but I’m willing to go.”

“I was in the towing business,” Old Ben said.
 

“Seychelle’s in the
boat
towing business, Gramps.”

“I know that, son, but it’s not all that different.”

Ben turned to me. “Gramps here owns Hubcap Heaven—you know, that place out on 441?”

“I know that place. I’ve driven by there hundreds of times. I’m pretty sure Red used to do business out there.”
 

“Well, honey, that’s me,” the old man said, smiling his thanks at the waitress when she brought him another drink. “I bought that land when I first got out of the service. Now rich folks like his daddy”—he used his thumb to point at Ben—“Junior, think it’s an eyesore, they want to close me down. But honey, I got over twenty-five thousand new and used hubcaps, rims, and wheel covers of all kinds on three-quarters of an acre. I got me a lift and a wrecker truck and I’m open twenty-four hours a day, rain or shine, three hundred sixty-five days a year. Junior can take his fancy dealership and shove it up his ass.”

“Gramps! Sorry, Seychelle. He and my dad have been arguing like this for years. Dad’s ashamed of the fact that he was raised in a trailer in a junkyard.”

“It ain’t no junkyard!” The old man reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pack of unfiltered Camels. He struck a match on the side of the box, and his cheeks hollowed out as he sucked deeply on the cigarette. After he blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling fan, he said, “Junior wouldn’t even let Ben here come visit my place when he was a kid. He hated Hubcap Heaven ever since his momma died.” The old man lifted his drink and swung it around as he continued to speak, gesturing to make his point. “He was seven years old when he started working at the corner store so’s he wouldn’t have to come home from school. He saved his money and bought himself clothes. Damnest thing I ever seen—this third grader wearing a blazer and tie to school in Florida. Didn’t even have air-conditioning back in the ’50s. Hell, I got more in common with Ben here than I ever did with my own son.” He drained his glass.

“Gramps, I don’t think Seychelle wants to hear all our family history.” Ben reached over and brushed a cigarette ash off his grandfather’s sleeve.

“Leave me alone,” Old Ben said, waving his cigarette at Ben. “Stop your fussing at me.”

“Gentlemen, I have enjoyed this, but I really do have to go.” I pushed back the chair and stood.

“You can’t go,” Ben said. “I was going to buy you lunch.”

I turned to him, laughing, assuming his words had been meant as a joke, but the look on his face was serious. I thought of the times Maddy had teased him and he had just stood, his head bowed, and taken it, never speaking up in his own defense for fear of the beating that might follow. This was a different Ben. This man was strong and commanding, reaching out to take what he wanted. There was something very sexy about that— about being desired like that. B.J. always let me go when I said I wanted to go. He never argued, never asked me to stay.

“Ben,” I said, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’d love to stay with you and your grandfather, but like I told you, I have someplace to go this afternoon and I have some business to attend to before I go. How ’bout a rain check and you can buy me lunch next time. Okay?”

Old Ben winked at me as I got up and headed toward the seawall. Young Ben didn’t say a word.

XVII

After I’d cranked the dinghy up in the davits, I unlocked the door to my cottage and collapsed on the couch. Abaco climbed up next to me, put her head in my lap, and then looked at me with her big brown eyes. She was telling me she remembered my promise to take her swimming, I was sure of it. Before I could go anywhere, I needed to call Catalina, but I didn’t know what I would tell her. She’d had enough things go wrong in her life. I didn’t want to be one more disappointment to her.

I was reaching for the portable phone on the coffee table when from the corner of my eye I saw movement. My front door started to swing inward slowly, and my pulse jumped into overdrive. “Hey, anybody home?” B.J. poked his head around the door. Abaco leaped to the ground and ran to him, jumping up on him and making her talking noises.

“You scared me,” I said.

“Really? Why? I’ve come in that door—the one you never latch—a hundred times before.”

“I’m just a little jumpy, that’s all. There’s some strange stuff going on, and I just came back from seeing Ted Berger. I’m convinced now he had nothing to do with Nestor’s death.”

“That should be good news, I think.”

“Yeah, I guess. Really, it just leaves me more confused. The more I’m convinced there’s something going on, the less certain I am of what. So what brings you to my door? I thought you and Molly were joined at the hip these days.”

“Could the lady be jealous?”

“Who? Me? Just because you’re spending long hours cheek-to-cheek with my voluptuous best friend? Should I be?”

“You’re right, she is a beautiful woman, and we are spending lots of time together.”

“And?”

“And that’s why I’m here.”

“Speaking of which—you didn’t stop by my cottage here anytime yesterday and let yourself into the place, did you?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. The only time I come into your home is when you’re out of town and I’m looking after Abaco.” He smiled. “Or when we’re preparing a welcome home barbecue.”

“That’s what I thought. Somebody’s playing head games with me. Things were moved—changed in here when I got home last night.”

“You sure? Maybe Catalina did it before you two left.”

“No, some of it was subtle, like washing the dishes that I had left in the sink. But I think somebody put the dog’s collar back on her—and I don’t think Abaco would let just anybody do that.”

“She’s not the greatest watchdog. But it’s true she wouldn’t likely let a stranger in here without putting up a big fuss.”

“I thought that Catalina might have done it, but B.J., somebody made my bed—better than I’ve ever made it. And Catalina never went near my room.”

“Let me get this straight. You had someone break into your cottage and commit random acts of housekeeping.”

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

“I’ll say. Think you can get them to come back on a regular basis?”

“Hey, this is serious. Somehow, it creeps me out more than if they’d torn the place apart. I barely slept a wink last night.”

“Perhaps that was the intent.”

“If so, it worked. When somebody trashes your place, you figure they’re done. This was like somebody telling me they can come and go as they please here.”

“Why you?”

“That’s the question. I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t see how this could be related to the Nestor situation— especially now that Berger is out of the picture. The only other person I can think of who might want to freak me out is this Melvin Burke guy.”

“He’s the one who’s suing you?”

“Right. I’m not sure what he thinks he could gain by it, though. Maybe he was in here looking for something to use against me in the lawsuit. Or maybe he just wants to force me to settle. I’ve got to admit, the thought of being able to make this all go away is very appealing.”
 

“To do that, you would have to admit fault. Is that something you want to do?”

“I just don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. Maybe I was wrong to leave them on the boat when I was towing them in. What makes me think that I know enough to make the right decisions when I’m dealing with people’s lives? That child nearly died. B.J., I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m not sure I should. Maybe I’m not any better than any of the other Johnny-come-lately salvers who don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”

He sat next to me on the couch, put his arms around me, and pulled me to him. His fingers slipped my hair behind my ear, then slid around to the base of my skull and began kneading at the knot in the muscle there.

“All the doubts in the world aren’t going to change who you are,” he said. “There isn’t always a right decision, a right thing to do. You just do the best you can— and I’d take your best over almost anyone else’s.”

I wanted to believe him. My cheek pressed against the hard muscles of his chest, and I could smell his soap, the clean laundered smell of his T-shirt, the earthy scent of his skin. I wanted to be my best for him, and I ached with a hollowness I wanted him to fill. His hands slid up and down my back gently massaging the muscles. All thoughts of Molly evaporated as my mind focused only on his touch. I leaned my head back and admired the smooth brown skin of his neck. I opened my mouth and began at his neckline with tiny nibbling kisses, letting my tongue linger on his skin, enjoying the slightly salty taste of him. Then I arched my back and worked my way around to his ear, and I heard his breath quicken when I took his earlobe in my teeth.

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, breathing hot air into his ear.

He pulled away for just an instant, then swept the hair up off my neck and began kissing that tender skin and lightly tracing his fingers around my collar, from right to left, finally settling in the center where he grasped the button between his fingers and in the next instant it was undone. He lowered his hand to the next button on my shirt.

“Hey, you’re pretty good at that,” I said. Button number three fell open and he was still doing it with only one hand. His fingertips brushed across the tops of my breasts, then slid between them. “I think you’ve had some practice.”

He didn’t answer me.

It was ten till three when I dashed out the front door, apologizing to Abaco for still not taking her for a swim and realizing I would have to see Catalina that evening, after the symposium. I was trying to button my jeans, tuck in my shirt, and buckle my belt while navigating the path out to my Jeep. B.J. had disappeared when I’d jumped into the shower after suddenly sitting up in bed and shouting, “Oh shit!” I’d seen the time on the digital clock on my nightstand. We’d been naked, our limbs tangled beneath the sheet, and I’d been so relaxed and just on the verge of falling into some deep much-needed sleep when I remembered the meeting set for three.

I threw my shoulder bag onto the passenger’s seat and leaped into the vehicle. At that hour on a Monday afternoon, the streets were already starting to clog with the after-work traffic. I was going to be at least half an hour late. Taking the shower had made the time worse, but better to be really late than to walk in a little late smelling of sex. There were some things about working in a man’s world that were a given.