Choke Read Free Page A

it here.” He tried not to look at Clare as he said it.
    “So you’re down from Palm Beach,” Harry said. “Are the rumors true?”
    “No, they’re not,” Victor said. “It was a hysterical pregnancy.”
    They all burst out laughing, and Chuck joined them.
    “Chuck,” Harry said when they had stopped laughing, “do you make a specialty of other men’s wives?”
    “No, Harry,” Chuck replied. “But from time to time, they seem to make a specialty of me.”
    Everybody laughed again.
    Clare put a hand on Chuck’s arm. “Who could blame them?” she said, and there was just a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
    “You’re too kind, Clare,” Chuck replied.
    The talk turned to tennis as the menus arrived, and they stayed on that subject through two courses, until Harry changed it.
    “You do any diving, Chuck?” Harry asked.
    “I do. I live on my boat, over at Key West Bight, and I’ll be happy to take you out sometime.”
    “We’ll take you,” Harry said.
    “I’d love to.”
    At that moment a gust of wind struck, so sharp and so sudden it knocked over a wineglass, and a split second later a roar filled the air. Suddenly everyone in the restaurant was standing, looking in the same direction.
    Chuck followed their gaze. A column of yellow fire rose into the sky, and debris was falling into the water in a large circle. The motor yacht Chuck had noticed earlier had now become a flaming hulk.
    “Holy shit,” Victor murmured.
    “Gas,” Harry said. “Gotta be gas.”
    “Gas
and
gasoline,” Chuck replied. “Diesel wouldn’t blow like that.”
    “Do you suppose anyone was hurt?” Clare asked.
    “I don’t think so,” Chuck replied. “We saw a large party leave the boat and come ashore here a little while ago.”
    As if on cue, a woman screamed.
    Chuck looked toward the bar. The woman had now covered her mouth with her hand and was pointing toward the fire. Tears streamed down her face.
    “What’s she bitching about?” Harry asked. “She’s alive, isn’t she?”

3
    T ommy Sculley was on his feet with the rest of the diners, gawking at the explosion. Then he got hold of himself, reached for his pocket cell-phone, and dialed 911.
    “I knew it,” Rose said. “I knew you’d do something to fuck up this dinner, but I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected anything quite so elaborate.”
    “Rosie, shut up and eat your dessert,” Tommy said.
    “Key West Police Department,” a woman’s voice said.
    “This is Detective Sculley. A boat has exploded a hundred and fifty yards off the east end of the island, and there may be fatalities. I want you to …”
    “Who did you say this is?” the woman asked.
    “Detective Thomas Sculley of the Key West Police Department,” he replied.
    “I don’t know any detective named Sculley,” she said.
    “Sweetheart,” Tommy said, “if you don’t listen to me and do what I tell you
right now,
you’re going to get a very personal introduction. I’m new, okay? Now you get hold of the Coast Guard and tell them to scramble a cutter and to make sure there’s a medic on board.”
    “You sure this isn’t some kind of joke?”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Helen Rafferty.”
    “Helen, as one Irishman to another, this is the straight scoop. Now, does this department have a boat of some sort?”
    “Yeah, but it’s hauled out getting some work done at the moment.”
    “Swell. You call the Coast Guard, and I’ll find my own boat.”
    “Are you sure …”
    “Do it, Helen, and think about it later.” He raised a hand. “Waiter!” he yelled. “Check!”
    Five minutes later, Tommy had left his wife to pay the bill for her birthday dinner, collared the young man who had skippered the Boston Whaler to the restaurant, and was on his way to the scene of the explosion, along with a very unhappy accountant from Atlanta.
    “I just bought the thing,” the accountant said. “This is our first cruise.”
    “What’s your name?” Tommy asked, notebook at the