Hope House (20 page)

“What about Boni?”

“Why don’t you tell Boris about her in the morning, explain where she is. He can arrange to have the body brought somewhere for a proper burial.”

“What are you going
to do about Mr. Puglisi? Are you going to say something to him? Tell him that you know what he did? Tell him how you feel?”
This is not a time for weakness. This is a time you to take action. Do something!

Dr. Tad stood up and weaved when he tried to walk. He closed his eyes tight and took shallow breaths. Something was very wron
g with his arm. More than he admitted.

“When Mick told me he’d seen Boni, he said if I tried anything stupid, he’d kill you. So no, I’m not going to say anything to him. I’m going to pretend everything is fine and as soon as your package comes, we’ll leave. If we confront Mick, he’s liable to kill us both. Right now I need to rest.”

Without another word he went to bed. 

Martine turned and limped out on her blisters toward her own cottage to wash
off the grime and terror of the night. 

4.

Highway, Florida, very late
evening

Kurt looked over at Gloria, sound asleep, leaning against the window. He was relieved. This situation was so much deeper than either of them realized, and she needed a break from it. 

This wasn’t just some low-level gambling operation or a prostitute
ring the Puglisis were running. Not this time. This was a high-tech baby-making, baby-pawning ring. It couldn’t be kidnapping, because no way that many healthy white infants went missing.  The kids on the charts were only days old. No hospital or parent would lose a child and not report it.  Kurt’s best guess was that at Hope House they’d find some kind of baby farm, with a bunch of girls acting as surrogates. But who were the fathers? The Ganders hadn’t said anything about a surrogacy.

Kurt had heard about places like that, where girls were paid to have baby after baby, but he didn’t see how that was really profitable. If they were housed there the whole nine months, there was no way the Puglisis could generate enough product and profit to make it worth their while.

The girls couldn’t live somewhere else and give birth in Windy Key either. It wouldn’t be safe for them to travel so late in their pregnancies. Kurt was baffled. The Puglisis were about low overhead and high profit. There was nothing profitable about secretly hiring a surrogate to have a child and then lying to the adoptive parents. What if the surrogate changed her mind like that court battle back in the eighties? Baby M or something. No, it couldn’t be that.

As Kurt silently thought about and disproved scenario after scenario, he heard Gloria say something.

“What?”

“Where are we?”

“About halfway.”

She picked up her phone and started dialing.

“Who are you calling? It’s two in the morning.”

“Tommy. His wife will have to deal with it.”

Kurt almost asked her not to call Tommy but then realized it was because he felt jealous. It was
their
problem now.
Their
quest. It had nothing to do with Tommy anymore. But Kurt kept quiet. No place for egos at a time like this. Tommy was a lawyer and could probably help them access records Kurt couldn’t get.

The wife must have picked up first because Gloria said, “I’m sorry to call so late but could I speak to Tommy please?”

A minute later she said, “Tommy, I found something important.”

Kurt only heard one side of the conversation, what Gloria said.

“Yes I know how late it is but listen—

“No, listen. I got some files from the agency and you won’t believe it—It doesn’t matter how I got them, but
the point is of the five I got, all the adoptive mothers had variations of my name. All of them. The biological mothers were from states all over the country but they all had the same street address. Eighty-three Cherokee Drive.”

Kurt watched her yell into the phone to her
ex-husband. She had to force information on him. Not very receptive. Granted, it was a little hard to swallow.

“Yeah, Cherokee Drive. The street we grew up on.”

Gloria looked over at Kurt and nodded. “I think he’s starting to believe,” she mouthed.

“Not only that,” she said into the phone, “but all the children were born in the same place. Some clinic in Windy Key. Hope House.”

She looked down at her phone. “I’m out of battery. I’m not sure how much he heard.  My charger is in my laptop case back at your apartment in Miami.”

“Well, it’s going to have to stay there with all the other stuff for right now. You can use my phone if you need to but just wait till tomorrow to call him back. We’ll know a lot more then.” He pointed to the cord dangling from the cigarette lighter.  “My charger is here so we can use my phone for the rest of the trip.”

Chapter Seven

1.

Key West, Friday, February 10
th
, early morning

Gloria awoke suddenly when Kurt touched her shoulder. “We’re here. Come on, let’s go.”

She opened her eyes.
Where is here?

She got out of the car and felt her joints crack. She’d been sitting for at least a couple of hours, tensed up, still scrunched tight in fear of being shot at again.

The air was warm and smelled like ocean and fried food. Small cottages in bold colors crowded the narrow street. Vehicles filled the one-car driveways. A disproportionate amount of old model VW Bugs. In the distance, she heard a band playing and someone singing a Jimmy Buffet song.

A couple of chickens ran in front the car. They stopped and squawked at Gloria, angry for the intrusion of headlights where they were trying to rest. Chickens? This was hardly farmland. She looked up at the small white cottage before them. It had a carport and a
low black wrought iron fence. A funny looking tree took up most of the tiny front yard. The trunk looked like a mass of gnarled fingers. The rest of the yard was taken up by a statue of a giant tuskless walrus.

“Where are we? In Wonderland?”

“Welcome to the Conch Republic.”

“Where?”

“Key West.” He pointed to the walrus. “It’s a manatee. It’s one of the state animals and a recurring theme around here.”

Kurt got his laptop and a duffel bag from his back seat. “Let’s go. My friend is expecting us.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s about three. But he’s up, it’s okay.”

Kurt knocked on the bright blue door.

“It’s open,” a tinny voice called from the inside.

Kurt opened the door and ushered Gloria inside. Before she saw anything, the scents of raspberry incense and warm brownies enveloped her. Till then she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She looked around and assessed the cute cottage. Small but cozy. She counted three Buddha statues in the first glance. A few ferns and aloe plants sat in pots on the dark pitted hardwood floor. Then she spotted the brownies in a plate on the coffee table. Without being too obvious she sidled closer to them while still taking in the atmosphere, sniffing the air as much as she could to hold her until she could sneak and scarf down a dessert.  

Against the walls lay canvases with some kind of abstract art. Lots of them. None hanging. Their host was obviously an artist waiting to sell his wares. Gloria couldn’t make out what the pictures were of, but they were both sad and soothing at the same time. She couldn’t stop looking at one that was mostly hues of blue. 

A very tall, skinny man, too tall for such a low-ceilinged house, got up off a loveseat that was covered with a tan sheet. His movement drew her attention away from the artwork. “Go ahead and have a brownie. I made them for you.”

She reached out and took the biggest one she could find. Sugar was something she r
eally needed right now.
Mmm, fudge heaven.
These were not from a box; that was for sure.

The man put out his hand for Kurt but then gave him a hug and pat on the back. He was about fifty and had a mane of gray hair, a clean shaven face.  “Good to see you again.”

“You too. How have you been,” Kurt asked.

“Still under the radar thanks to you. How’s it shakin’?”

“Could be better I guess,” Kurt said. “Racing down here fleeing bullets isn’t my favorite way to spend a night but well, you know, it is what it is.”

“Don’t I know it.” The man shook his head and grinned. “Don’t I know it.”

“I really appreciate you putting us up.”

“My pleasure.” He turned to Gloria. “Just call me Joe,” he said.

“Just call me Gloria.” She smiled, trying to conceal her chocolate-covered teeth. The man was instantly likeable. Too relaxed to make anyone tense, even in the strange situation in which she found herself.

“Go ahead and have another brownie. I can see you like them. Have a seat and relax. You’re safe here.”

It was rare she allowed herself indulgences like two brownies back to back but why not? They were luscious. She took a smaller one this time and sat on the cushy couch.

After she ate, she put her head back on the couch and tried to unwind. Joe and Kurt went in another room to talk.

“I saw you looking at
Drowning.”

“I, what do you mean?” Gloria hadn’t remembered falling asleep but felt as if he had awakened her. She was confused.

He pointed to the blue canvas. “It’s called
Drowning.
My painting. My sculpture.”

She leaned closer to it from her spot on the comfy cushions. “It’s really lovely but—”

“Go ahead. Get closer. It’s pieces of bottle caps. I started saving them from beers to recycle them. Such a waste of metal otherwise. I had boxes of them, saving them until I found just the right use. Then one night I was a little high when I got the idea to cut them up and glue them to canvas. The first one didn’t come out so hot. Looked like a bunch of metal bits on a canvas. No theme. No message. But I kept looking at it. For like days, I just sat and looked at it and got stoned.”

Joe laughed. Gloria was transfixed by this man’s explanation of his methods. Kurt was in the kitchen
rifling through the fridge and if it hadn’t been for the occasional drawer opening and shutting or the hiss of a can of soda being popped, she would have forgotten he was there at all.  

“Then it hit me. Shrapnel. I named it
Schrapnel
and it all fell into place. I painted the canvas pink and the metal caps red and wow. It was a like a Vietnam flashback. Not that I was there but you know—everyone has seen movies right?”

Just the thought of the chaos of reds and pinks and skin and blood and violence unsettled Gloria. Grabbed her.

“I got five grand for that. Someone from New York bought it. Next thing I was making all kinds of them. Each one with its own story. You’d be amazed how much people pay for this stuff. It’s just canvas plus the bottle caps I find on the street. And a little paint. It’s really crazy but who am I to deny art lovers something to spend their money on?”

Gloria admired this man with his Bohemian surroundings and easy-going style. Maybe he made the artwork from inexpensive materials but somehow he made them . . . real. 

She leaned closer to
Drowning.
At first glace it looked like a huge range of blues. But no … It was tragedy on a twenty-by-thirty inch piece of cloth. It almost seemed alive. Gloria stared at it.
Amazing.

“Contact high?” Kurt asked.

She looked up to Kurt and got a bit of a head rush. God was he handsome. She smiled more than she meant to.

“No doubt,” Joe said. “It’s in the air. Can’t help but breathe it in.” Joe took an exaggerated breath in and puffed his chest out like a rooster. “Little something extra in the brownies too.”

“Joe,” Kurt scolded. “What’s a little something?”

“Just a little magic herb, my friend. Nothing pharmaceutical.”

The brownies were laced with pot? Before she could protest, a warm weird feeling prevented her from saying anything aloud. At least she didn’t think she said anything aloud.

“You shouldn’t have given it to her.”

“Hey, it’s my elixir. Cures all woes. No harm no foul.” Joe cocked his head and gently punched Kurt in the arm.

“That’s all right. She could use it, I guess. She’s going through a lot right now. It’ll help her sleep.”

“Speaking of that, you two can go in the room down the hall. I made up the bed for you.”

Gloria’s eyes bugged out at that. They were sleeping together? Yes! She reached over and touched Kurt’s arm. Thick with tendons and curly blond hair. Maybe she
was
high. Had to be. She looked around and noticed how deep and vibrant everything was. She took a big sniff too. Now, I’m a rooster, she thought. Then laughed.

“Time to get you to bed, missy,” Kurt said.

He took her hand and led her down the hall. “Nice meeting you, Joe. Your artwork is wonderful. Very Rod Serling-esque. Is that a word? TwilightZone-esque?
Night Gallery.
That’s what I mean.”

Gloria closed her eyes and when she opened them she was sitting on a bed wearing only a bra and underwear. Black lace matching set. “Victoria Secret, Seventy-five dollars,” she mumbled.

But how did she get in the bed? What happened? She had just been walking down the hall.

Her breasts looked good though.. It
was
a miracle bra. Money well spent.

Kurt stood over her. “You okay?”

“Are you going to seduce me?” She flopped down on the bed. Being high was fun. Like being drunk without the nausea. “You know what? I’m a staunch drug-free something or else other. I don’t believe in drugs. But this wasn’t my fault. Alls I did was sniff the air and eat a brownie. Two brownies. God, Kurt you’re—so handsome.”

She reached around her front and unhooked the bra.
These front clasps are great.
She envisioned her breasts tumbling out like fresh fruit.  

Kurt pushed a big t-shirt in front of her. “Here. Put this on.”

She put her arms over her head and felt like Superman. Cool. This must be why people became drug addicts. How could she have gone her whole life and never gotten high?

Kurt slipped the shirt over her head then lifted back the covers. “Get underneath.”

She slid her legs under but then cupped the back of his neck with her hand to draw him close. This time he wasn’t getting away. She felt his rough face scratch hers as their lips and tongues met. He moaned. She reached down and felt between his legs. Through the denim he was hard as a rock.

Kurt started pulling away but she moved her leg quickly from under the sheet and wrapped it around his back.

“No. Not this time, Kurt Malone.” She pulled his body closer and kissed him again. He eased away.

He was kneeling above her now, her left leg still trapping him on the bed. Her right hand holding the back of his neck for dear life.

“What’s it gonna be boy, yes or no? Yes or no?” The Meatloaf lyrics had never taken on such a profound meaning. She tried to focus on the matter at hand but played the song on full volume in her head. It was a little distracting.

“I can’t take advantage like this, Gloria. You’re stoned and clearly not used to it.”

“I wasn’t stoned the other day. You know I want you. Please.”

“It’s not right.”

Screw manners. She wanted him. Now. Gloria reached her hand into his pants, under the boxers and found him swollen. The tip of his penis was already a little damp.

“It’s right and you know it.” She wrapped her hand around it with just enough pressure. Maybe not enough. She squeezed a little harder.

Kurt’s breathing changed. Got quicker. He chewed his bottom lip and began to undo his pants.

“You really want me?” He smiled and Gloria knew she had won the battle.

“Just hurry up and get those pants off.”

It only took seconds, unless it was another time lapse, and they were both naked. She didn’t care who knocked or walked in. No one was going to stop her this time. Kurt was on top of her, his rough hands caressing her smooth skin. He put his hand up under the small of her back and arched it up.

His penis pushed at the edge of her vagina. “You sure you want me?”

She smiled and pushed herself down on him, using her heels for leverage.

And then she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Only a squeal of delight released her tension. Gloria had never been a screamer. A prude even in private but this was—

Kurt rubbed his scruffy face against her neck
, rubbed raw. Just like her insides. He was so big and powerful. He bit her neck. Not too hard, just enough to focus her there. She felt like she was being ripped open, ravaged, and bitten. This wasn’t all the pot brownies.

Kurt was incredible. She looked over and saw their reflection in the window. That meant anyone passing by outside could see them.

She smirked at the window and dug her nails into Kurt’s back to draw him deep.
Let them look.

Kurt paused just as she was about to climax.

“What?” she asked, devastated it might be over.

“Not so quick. It’s been a long time for me too. I want to enjoy this for a long time. You’re not tired are you?”

Gloria shook her head. “Not by a long shot.”

He reached over and shut off the lamp without pulling out. “I think the neighbors have seen enough. The rest of the night, you’re just mine.”

“All yours.” Gloria believed this was going to be a night she’d never forget. 
 

2.

Joe’s Apartment, Key West, morning

Kurt drank a cup of Joe’s free trade coffee and munched on multigrain toast as he searched the Internet for any more information he could add to what they already had.