Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (14 page)

Hook’s cell phone chirped. He stepped away from his brother to take the call.

It pissed me off that my phone was at the bottom of the ocean. I was desperate to communicate with my office. They probably had the Dade County Sheriff’s office dredging the Intracoastal looking for my body. Treanna must think I abandoned her.

Charlie’s rants cut the still air. “You moron! I’ll have your head. I’ll sue you for every penny your grandkids will ever make!” He clicked off. Looking at the sky, he let out a bellow like a wounded bull.

Joseph was at his side. “What is it?”

Hook paused. I could almost see his breath in the cool night air. “I had a boat designed to take the van where it needs to go. The crew’s been thrown in the Savannah city jail for public drunkenness. They won’t be let out until after the pirate festival.” Hook took long strides, first away from Joseph and then back. “If I’m going to cash in my treasure, I’ll need your help,” he said.

“You know I’ll help you, Brother.”

“I need four, no five good men to help me get the van on a boat that’s docked at Tybee. The guys will be gone for a day or two. I need extra hands who won’t ask questions, strong backs, and closed mouths. A knowledge of boats would be helpful.”

Joseph pulled on his chin and scratched his head. “Well Mary can help. She’s skinny but strong and stubborn. Her daddy was a fisherman out of Savannah. Chick knows his way around a boat. I’ll think on some other folks.”

“Brother, are you deaf? I said men. Strong men.”

Joseph scratched his head. “I’ll think on it.”

“We’ll leave early in the morning. Leave the van in the barn until then.”

“I have to draw the line there,” Joseph said. “We leave after lunch. Sister Mary wouldn’t have it any other way. You best be attending her church in the morning, the lot of you.”

A small groan escaped Jaxbee. The men looked over their shoulder. She stepped back into the darkness and onto my foot. “Nuts!”

The brothers walked toward the house. “You got some kind of stretchy bandage in there? I gotta tape this thing down.”

“Wish you would. You’re embarrassing the piss out of me. I got some duct tape might work.” They lumbered up the steps and into the house.

I pushed Jaxbee off. “Your vocabulary is down to one word. All you say is
nuts
!”

“We lost the crew for the
Mermaid
,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“Hook had a boat rigged to look like a pirate party boat. It’s called the
Mermaid.
It’s set to meet us with the van early tomorrow on Tybee, but the crew’s been thrown in jail. And we weren’t supposed to be this far north. Hook told me the van was sitting in a warehouse in the Port of Savannah not up here in north Georgia on a goat farm. The plan, the timing… it’s all loused up.”

 “Jax, what do you get out of all this?”

“Satisfaction. That’s all you need to know.”

That was pretty snippy. Anger boiled from the deepest part of me. I’d been kidnapped, buried someone at sea, and my every move was being watched by a government agent with long, dark eyelashes and ugly brown shoes. I thought this little twit was a friend, sort of. Now she’s sassing me. I shoved her in the mud. It was only by catching her off guard that I succeeded.

Sitting on her, I put my hands around her throat. “Who killed Marni? You have to know. Kit’s in Dale’s clutches. I’m about to lose it!”

“I don’t know. But whoever killed her, shot Captain Henry,” she said.

I got off her. “Dale?”

She scrambled to her feet. “I don’t know about Dale, but it had to be Henry who shut off the cloaking device and the LRAD. Only three of us had a key to the box – Hook, Henry, and me. We were sitting ducks, visible and disarmed, when Croc attacked.”

She brushed her hair aside with muddy hands. “It was Henry who told the crew to lock themselves in the safe room. He set us up to be taken over by Croc and the hedgies.”

“And I thought this job was going to be dull. I never expected to see two ladies mud-wrestle in goat droppings.” It was Roger.

“Eww…” I suddenly realized we looked like monsters and smelled worse.

“Is that pink chenille under that dirt?” He asked, shuddering.

I looked at him. “Let’s get serious. We’ve been press-ganged into helping Hook run off with a fortune. Anybody else have confessions or surprises they want to share? The sun’s coming up. They’ll be back out here shortly.”

“What are Hook’s plans?” he asked.

Jaxbee hesitated then said, “He can’t bring the
Predator
into port, so the van is going to be loaded onto a pretend pirate ship down in Tybee. We’re going to slip past the security by posing as a party boat.”

Roger ran his hand over the stubble on his face smearing the remnants of his penciled-on mustache. “How do you plan on getting that big van onto a boat at Tybee Island?”

“The
Mermaid
is an old vessel rigged like those tank-landing ships from World War II, but a lot smaller. It only draws three feet. It can come close to shore and then the bow opens up.”

“And the van goes from the
Mermaid
to the
Predator
?” I asked.

“That’s how Hook plans on getting the treasure to Nevis Island… under the cloaking shield.”

“And Croc and his gang will be waiting for us on Nevis,” I said. The thought of seeing Peter Payne after all these years was a hope I held silent in the back of my mind. “So what’s our plan?”

“All we can do is sit tight. I’ll tell you when to act,” Roger said.

Jaxbee looked at him. “What are you
Doctors Without Borders
? Who died and left you in command?”

“Let’s not argue. You ladies look like shit and smell worse. There’s a hot shower in the trailer. Ladies, please go use it. There are some men’s clothes in the closet. Nasty goat boy clothes, but not as nasty as… Wendy, please get out of the pink chenille,” Roger wrinkled his nose.

I nodded, accepting the suggestion of another shower. “It’s almost morning. Mary will be around soon. We can’t get back in the house ‘cause Hook’s probably sleeping on the sofa in the living room. Let’s make it look as if we got up early and we’ve been helping with the goats. Anybody here know how to milk a goat?”

Chapter Thirty-One

We were pretend-working in the corral when Mary came out dressed in a slightly different light blue outfit with her hair held in a tight bun. She chuckled at our efforts to help. “Thank you. You’re all so sweet,” she said as she pried a large aggressive goat off Roger.

I was playing with twin baby goats. They nuzzled me and each other. With no sleep, I was drawing energy from the peaceful early morning setting. I’d pulled my hair into a high ponytail to avoid being goat fodder.

Roger winked at me as if we shared a secret. We shared quite a few secrets. He had his nice points. I admired how far he would go to solve a case. After Marni died, his attitude toward me seemed to change. Maybe he had stopped suspecting me of being part of Hook’s scheme. I looked at his feet. His brown wingtips were covered with muck. A nice improvement.

Mary stood outside the gated area. “The goats are ready for pasture. I’ll open the fence. You all just gently urge them out. Whilst you’re doing that, I’ll make breakfast.”

Roger and Jaxbee ran behind the goats making shooing sounds. I smiled at the silliness of the scene. Two pretend pirates chasing a herd of animals.

The kids skipped after the older goats in a rowdy scramble. I turned at the sound of a bleat. I don’t speak goat, but the noise was clearly a cry for help. The sound was coming from beneath a stack of wooden planks. Pulling them aside, I saw the tiniest baby goat. He was coal black and barely visible deep in the hole.

Snaking to the edge on my belly, I eased in head first with my calves locked around a fence post about two feet from the hole. If I fell, I’d land on my head, which wouldn’t hurt anything important… unless I snapped my neck.

My body was in up to my hips when my hands reached the baby goat. As I strained to lift him up to my shoulder, he became demonically possessed and started alternately nibbling on my hair, which had come out of the ponytail, and screaming in my ear. My body slid forward wedging my head against the wall of the narrow hole and the goat from hell into my shoulder. I tried pulling my legs but had no leverage because they had moved forward so far that only my ankles were gripping the fence post.

If I dropped the goat, I could push against the wall with my hands but he might fall on his back and get injured, as well as bite my ear off trying to hold on. To use an entirely inappropriate metaphor, I was up the creek without a paddle. I recalled wanting to be a shepherdess when I was about four. I thought you got to carry a big cane and wear fluffy dresses and pantaloons. This wasn’t quite what I had envisioned.

I was trying to work an arm around the goat to see if I could free one hand to push with when I heard Roger’s voice. “Quit squirming. I’m going to grab your hips and get you out of there.”

His strong hands gripped me and slowly pulled until I rocked back on my knees, but was still hanging over the hole. He put his hand on the non-goat shoulder and yanked me into a kneeling position. I set the loudest baby goat in the universe on the ground, and he ran off bleating, probably telling his little goat friends about the crazy blonde who got wedged in the well.

I sat on the boards and stared at my investigator. There weren’t any words for what had happened including my stupidity and his rescue. I could have broken my neck.

He said, “Your big heart gets you in trouble a lot, doesn’t it?” Then one of his little boy looks, the impish one, crept onto his face. “By the way, you have a very nice butt.”

The clump of dirt next to my hand was too convenient. I pitched it but missed him by a mile. We laughed and he helped me to my feet.

By the time I brushed off and we went into the old house, Mary had whipped up a huge breakfast. The table was laid family-style with platters of fried eggs, grits, and hash brown potatoes. The large center plate held bacon, ham, sausage, and pork chops. No wonder there weren’t many pigs around. I’d only seen one.

Roger pulled out my chair. As I sat down I whispered to him, “I’d give anything for a Bloody Mary.”

Joseph said the blessing.

Hook bowed his head as he kept pulling at his lap.

“Church is in an hour,” Mary said.

The food was true southern cooking. Everything was fried or soaked in butter.

“Mary this bacon is tasty,” I said.

She nodded by way of thanking me. “We’re running low on our pork. But I can’t bring myself to –”

Joseph cut her off. “We got us a love affair standing in the way of our pork for this season.”

Heads swiveled. “What?”

“Stillpork and Milton,” Mary said. “Milton, our hound dog, is in love with Stillpork.”

“The pig’s crazy about the dog, too.” Joseph added. “Mary can’t bring herself to well…”

“I’m sorry, but it’s about time to leave,” Mary said. She appeared distressed by the mention of Stillpork’s name. I guessed she must have a very tender heart.

We cleaned our plates. The men folk stood outside talking while Jaxbee and I helped Mary hand wash the dishes. I noticed a roll of duct tape next to the toaster; maybe Hook had solved his UpUGo.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The interior of the chapel was Quaker-simple with about twenty light–oak pews on the right and left sides. There was no altar. A large pulpit stood on the left. Mary led us up the right side. Our group took up an entire pew. Sandwiched between Mary and Joseph, I felt like the ringmaster in a bughouse.

The carillon stopped and the organ started. A lady in blue played a series of unfamiliar hymns, each one ratcheting up the religious fervor. Jaxbee was mumbling her mantra of
nuts, nuts, nuts.
Mary seemed to be oblivious. The preacher stepped out of the sacristy and into the pulpit. He began with the fire and brimstone routine. I wondered how much of this Hook could tolerate.

It was steam-bath hot in the church. Hook was sitting on the other side of Joseph. I noticed droplets of sweat gathering on the scammer’s brow and falling onto his hymnal in a slow steady pitter-pat.

The preacher had just begun page two of his lecture, when a tall, skinny woman started jumping from pew to pew leaping over the backs of the seats, occupied or not. Her long hair flew as she took off her clothes. She sang senseless words and laughed to the heavens.

Joseph leaned over and whispered to me. “That’s Annie Mills. She just got the rapture. See how her legs got to movin’?”

The preacher waited until Annie’s rapture was over. She had stripped down naked. It was not a pretty sight. Parts of her body kept moving, while the rest of her stayed in place. He put his hands on her head. “Pray for our sister, Annie. As once again she has seen the rapture,” he yelled. The organist hit a chord and the congregation said, “Amen.”