“I know. Quite a gal, our Amanda Rae.”
“That she is, Arri. And you’re quite a man.”
“That’s about enough mutual compliments, es verdad?” They laughed together. “Okay, look,” he said somberly, “I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can do for now. Grissom’s been planning this for weeks. He thinks there’s enough halibut in this canyon he’s found to bring us a couple thousand apiece. That’s worth taking a shot at.”
“I’m not arguing about that, Arri. I’d like to have the money in the bank just as much as you would. Can’t they wait a few days? Couldn’t they wait just until after this weekend? They’d have more time to ready the boat. When they finally go out it’ll be a week better off.”
“Sure it would,” Arriaga admitted, “and we’d be a week nearer wintertime.”
“Since when did the weather ever bother you and that bunch of wetbacks and rednecks you run around with? Most of the time the bunch of you are so drunk you wouldn’t notice if you were putting out in the middle of Hurricane Allen.”
“Okay, okay. I can see that I’m going to have to listen to this all night, right?” She grinned and nodded. “Swell. Alright, I’ll talk to Grissom and the Sanchezes tomorrow and see if I can’t get them to postpone the expedition for another week.”
She rolled into him, making him wheeze. “Thank you, Arri. Thank you.” She nuzzled his chest.
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t made up my mind for sure and neither have the others. If Jim insists on going out, he’s majority shareholder in the Grouper and we’ll have to go. I’ll give it my best shot. I can’t promise any more than that. God knows the boat could do with more work. The new winch hasn’t been checked out yet and we don’t want to go out until it is, because if something goes wrong with it at sea, old man Paxton will say it’s our fault and won’t honor the damn warranty.”
“Want to check out my warranty?” She snuggled a little closer, which he wouldn’t have thought physically possible.
Not only was it possible, it was perfectly delightful.
X
The man who stood outside the door to Ruth Somerset’s room at the Best Western didn’t say a word; he just quietly handed her the package of cassettes. He rubbed at his eyes as he waited for her. They were red from lack of sleep. No matter how long he stayed in his particular and unusual business he never got used to long night work. Still, that was what he was getting paid for. His eyes weren’t so tired, however, that he couldn’t focus sharply on the expansive cleavage so delectably held out for display by the sharp décolletage of her nightgown.
“The usual stuff?” she asked.
“Not this time, miss.” He was small and muscular and exhibited all the intellectual range of a box kite, she thought. But he was good at his job. “Not the usual at all, I don’t think.” He pointed toward the stack of tapes, bound together with rubber bands. “Check out the first side of the second tape. Something on there that might interest you. ‘Course, I can’t tell if it means anything. I don’t know what it is that you’re looking for.”
“That’s right, Max, you don’t,” she said sweetly. “Good-night.” She bent to fix her slipper, giving him just enough of a look at what he wanted desperately to get his hands on to keep him bothered and awake for the rest of the morning.
That was nasty of me, she thought. She enjoyed being a little nasty now and then. Actually, it was a substitute for Benjamin. She missed him more than she’d thought possible. It wasn’t much of a vacation without him. Of course, it wasn’t supposed to be a real vacation. It was supposed to be work, and that was just what it was turning out to be.
She locked the door behind Max. It was post summer-vacation time and the motel was nearly empty. She had practically the entire upper floor to herself. The room commanded a fine view of Lavaca Bay and the bridge reaching north toward Houston. There were better places to stay farther south toward Corpus Christi, but she was supposed to be here to monitor programming at the Matagorda cracking plant and could hardly rationalize sequestering herself any farther from it. Besides, here she could maintain that fiction while being on top of the real reason for her presence on this isolated section of coast.
At least the motel restaurant was good; better than expected, especially the seafood. But she would have preferred a week in New York.
The technician was right. There was something of note on the second tape. Trouble. No crisis, but it would do nothing to improve Huddy’s state of mind. She rewound the tape, reached for the phone.
“I don’t like it,” Huddy murmured after she’d played back the offensive section for him. “I want the grandniece and her family where we can keep close to them.”
“We can monitor them if they go to this University too, Benjy,” Somerset argued.
“Yeah, but if we should have to do anything….” He let the ominous thought go unfinished. “Hell, I’m worrying over nothing again. Just keep monitoring the house. You’re positive there’s been no contact between Pickett and the family?”
“There’s nothing to hint at it on any of the tapes,” she assured him, eying the cassettes. “Nothing’s gone over the phone and if they received a letter, nobody’s said anything about it. There’s no mention of Pickett in the daily family chitchat.”
“I still wish they’d stay there. I’d rather do any necessary work in a small town.”
“Where the cops are sleepy and the livin’ is easy?” she chided him.
“Come on, Ruth. This is serious.”
“I’m always serious, Benjy. You know that. It’s your unwarranted concern I can’t get serious about.”
“Can’t say that I blame you. But I won’t be able to relax again until we have Pickett in custody and I’ve delivered him to Doctor Navis back in Los Angeles.”
“The sooner the better, Benjy. I can only hold so many shrimp dinners.”
“I thought you liked seafood.”
“I do. It’s just that I wasn’t planning on making its consumption my life’s work.”
“Soon, sweetness. It’ll be finished soon.”
“How are you going to pick him up this time? You don’t want to lose any more wheels.” She shook her head, remembering the story he’d hastily and excitedly related to her. “I still can’t figure out how that happened.”
“Why won’t you believe, Ruth? All this accumulated evidence and still you don’t believe. First the bottle caps and the dirt on my car and now—”
“And now what?” she countered, interrupting him. “The word of a bunch of factory hicks whose truck broke down during a high-speed chase?” She leaned back against the headboard of the bed, cradling the phone. “It’s ybu I miss, Benjamin, not evidence one way or the other involving Jake Pickett.”
“I miss you too, sweet thing. I checked the three men out. Their stories are tight.”
“I admit that it’s funny, all four wheels coming off simultaneously like that.”
“Funny? It’s damned fantastic!” Benjamin insisted. “It proves everything I suspected about Pickett.”
“I wish I was that credulous, Benjy.”
