The Hound of the Sanibel Sunset Detective Read Free Page B

coming for you?”
    The suspicion was back in Trinchera’s eyes. “What’s that? What are you talking about?”
    “Tell me.”
    “You say three guys? Coming here?”
    “They could be, yes. They were at the Biltmore Hotel a few minutes ago. One of them was reassuring Johnny on the phone that they were coming here for you, and that everything was going to be taken care of. He said he was in the business of breaking eggs.”
    Beneath the peak of the Greek fisherman’s cap, Vic Trinchera’s hollowed-out eyes filled with worry. “You sure that’s what he said?”
    “Whoever was on the other end of the phone apparently wanted an egg broken. This guy said he knew how to break an egg. That’s what he said.”
    “You didn’t bring those rats here, did you?”
    “No, of course not,” Tree said.
    “You working for Johnny Bravo, is that it?”
    “Johnny Bravo? Who’s Johnny Bravo? I’m not working for anyone. What’s going on here? Are you in trouble?”
    “No,” Trinchera said, his voice rising. “Why would I be in trouble? I’m a Montreal businessman, I tell you. That’s all there is to it.”
    Trinchera pulled himself out of the recliner and rose unsteadily to his feet. He looked as though a strong breeze would blow him away.
    “A businessman, trying to enjoy his time in Florida, that’s all there is to it. It’s this heat. I can’t stand this heat.”
    He fumbled in his pocket, finally extracting a cellphone. “These damned things,” he said angrily.
    “What are you doing?” Tree demanded.
    “Shut up,” Vic Trinchera said.
    He poked out a number and then spoke into the phone “Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “I need you to bring a car around. Right now.”
    He put the cellphone away and inspected Tree. Having made the phone call, he appeared less agitated. His voice when he spoke was calmer. “You sure Johnny didn’t send you?”
    “I told you, I don’t even know who Johnny Bravo is.”
    “A ruthless son of a bitch is who he is,” Trinchera said. The agitation was back.
    “I don’t even know who you are.”
    “How many times do I have to tell you? A respectable Montreal businessman. They gave me some sort of award a couple of years ago. They don’t give you no award if you’re not respectable.”
    “That’s good. If you’re respectable you don’t have to worry. You don’t need me.”
    “I need a detective.”
    “Retired,” Tree said. “I’m retired from that business. Edith should have told you.”
    “Every creep in this state is retired. I don’t need retired. I need a detective.”
    “For what?”
    Trinchera bobbed his head up and down. “Okay, I don’t have a lot of choice here. I can’t trust anyone I know. Anyone I know would as soon cut my throat as look at me. Even that broad. Can’t trust her, either.”
    “Broad?” Tree said the word as though it came from some all-but-lost ancient language. “What broad? What are you talking about?”
    The old man ignored him. “Edith sent you. I guess you’re okay. I don’t know, anymore. I don’t know about anything. I used to be able to trust certain people. But that’s all gone now. So I need you to take the dog.”
    “Dog?” Tree said. “What dog?”
    “The dog.” Trinchera’s irritation had turned into anger. “The dog you’re supposed to take care of.”
    “Edith didn’t say anything about a dog,” Tree said.
    “I’m trusting you. I don’t have any choice. I gotta get out of here. You’re taking the dog.”
    Tree was on his feet. “I came down here to talk, that’s all. Nothing was said about any dog.”
    “What kind of punk are you?” Trinchera’s long, gray face was darkening. “You’re retired. You don’t take dogs. You don’t do this. You don’t do that. Don’t give me this crap, understand? I don’t have time for it.”
    He lurched away, and as he did, his cellphone began to ring. “Are you there yet?” he snarled into the phone. “Hold on, I’ll be right out.”
    He disappeared