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“You keep talking dirty like that and I’m going to get excited.”
“You get excited, and I’m leaving.”
“It would help if you weren’t wearing that dress.” His eyes moved north to my hair. “Although, the hair is enough to make most men go limp. Not me, of course. But most men.”
I could hear flapping and scuffling sounds coming from the patio. “Is that the seagull?” I asked.
Hooker pulled the drape aside and peeked out. “Not exactly.” There were some loud angry bird sounds, and Hooker jumped back and pulled the drape shut. “Food fight,” he said.
There was a breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the dining room. Four stools lined up in front of the bar. A photo in a silver frame sat on the far end of the breakfast bar. It was a picture of a boat.
“Is this your boat?” I asked, picking the picture up to see it better.
“It was my boat. Prettiest boat ever made. And fast…for a fishing boat.”
“Last night I talked to a bunch of guys who knew Bill, and the consensus is that Bill made a last-minute decision to take off. Apparently, Flex II had just returned from a trip to the Bahamas. Bill went clubbing the night he got back, but he was supposed to sail the following morning, so he cut out early. Around one AM. And that’s the last anyone’s seen him.”
“When did he call you?”
“Around two AM.”
“So he comes back from a trip to the Bahamas,” Hooker said. “He goes clubbing until one AM. He calls me at two AM. And he calls you right after he hangs up with me. He’s on a boat. My boat!”
“Maybe he’s on your boat.”
“It’s the only boat missing in the goddamn marina. I checked. He tells you some guys are going to be looking for him. A woman screams. That’s the last we hear from him. An hour later, someone kills the night watchman.”
I told him about the night watchman conversation I had with Puke Face. “So what does all this mean?” I asked Hooker.
“Don’t know, darlin’.”
“I need to go back to Bill’s apartment. I left my duffel bag there. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Hooker palmed a set of keys off the bar. “I can help with that. NASCAR Guy to the rescue. After we get you out of the dress and into some shorts we can get on with the Bill search.”
I followed him out the door, into a foyer with two elevators. Hooker pushed the button and looked at me.
“Are you okay? You just went white.”
That’s because my heart stopped pumping when I saw the elevators. “I’m fine,” I said. “A little hung over.”
We stepped into the elevator, Hooker hit the lobby button, and the doors closed. I sucked in some air and squinched my eyes shut. I didn’t whimper or yell out “we’re gonna drop like a rock and die.” So I was sort of proud of myself.
“What’s with the closed eyes?” Hooker wanted to know.
“I don’t like to see the numbers changing.”
Hooker slid his arm around me and hugged me close to him. “Cute.”
Hooker parked the Porsche in front of Bill’s apartment building, and we both got out. Bill’s front door swung open when I pushed
it. No key necessary. Definitely broken.
We went upstairs and froze at the entrance to the living room. The apartment had been tossed. Again. Not trashed, like the first time, but clearly searched. Couch cushions were slightly askew. Drawers weren’t entirely closed. My duffel bag wasn’t exactly as I’d left it.
“Why would someone go through twice?”
“Maybe we’ve got two different people.”
