Wood's Harbor Read Free Page A

direction. He kept an eye on the road while he walked, twice ducking into the bushes when he saw Highway Patrol cars. An old International Travelall passed by and he wished he were close enough to flag down the driver. Jesse McDermitt owned the beast and lived on his own island, close to Wood’s place out by the Content Keys. Jesse was an acquaintance but, unlike a lot of the Keys’ residents, was dependable. He could have helped and Mac racked his brain for some way to contact the reclusive ex-Marine. He could often be found at the Rusty Anchor, but Mac didn’t want to risk being seen. Rusty, the owner, could be trusted though, and Mac thought about sneaking around back after closing for a quick conversation. 
    He decided on using Rusty as a backup plan, sticking with Trufante as his first option. The Cajun was already intertwined in the poaching scam and was ultimately responsible for the whole mess by getting conned into using his boat. He was trouble but Mac knew him inside and out. The man wouldn’t judge him and if he could help, he would. The frontage road turned into the Heritage Trail, a walking and biking path, as he reached the airport, but it wasn’t much more than a sidewalk. He was less worried about being recognized now. Most of the characters he knew would be in bars, not out walking or biking. He only had to cross one intersection before he turned right on the first street and walked towards the small apartment building, hoping the Cajun was home. 
    Mac heard the party before he saw it and knew trouble was brewing. He reached the two-story apartment building and stopped behind a clump of sago palms planted near a cluster of mailboxes. People were on the balconies, in the pool, and overflowing into the parking lot. As he had suspected, the center of activity was none other than Trufante’s apartment. He crouched down and finished the last of his water and watched the action, but the tall Cajun, easily recognizable with his lanky frame and grin resembling a Cadillac’s grille, was nowhere to be seen. Mac waited, wondering how to find him without being recognized. He also had to wonder why Trufante was having a party when Mel was in the hospital and he was supposed to be lost at sea. Another piece of his memory returned and he recalled giving him the dual engine go-fast boat to use as a decoy. Somehow he was sure that was tied to the party. 
     
    ***
     
    Norm leaned back into the plush couch as the girl swayed above him. He thought the strip club would take his mind off his problems, but the harsh music and lights were only increasing his headache. The song finished and the girl stepped off the couch and accepted the twenty-dollar bill, giving him a contemptuous glance as if it should have been more. Without a second look, she moved on to the next group of men, hoping for better prey. Norm leaned forward, drained his drink, got up and walked to the door. 
    Duval Street, the partying heart of Key West, was just picking up steam. He stood in the entry to the club watching the scene. Tourists and locals of all flavors were milling about, many drinking openly from red Solo cups. Usually he enjoyed nights like this, but in his current mood, he knew he was not destined to have fun. He asked the bouncer to hail a taxi, and when the pink cab pulled to the curb, the large tattooed man opened the back door, not willing to close it until Norm had laid a five in his palm. He gave the driver the name of his hotel, sat back and tried to ignore the party on the street flashing by the tinted windows. At the hotel, he paid the driver and got out on his own, refusing to be the victim of another door-opener. Relief came over him as he entered the air-conditioned lobby and found the elevator. 
    He stayed to the side of the hallway away from the cameras, burying his head in his shoulder in the event they caught his face. It never hurt to be careful, he thought, and after a glance in each direction, he unlocked the door,