Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (36 page)

“He was at the ransom drop. Something went wrong. There was another boat there.”
 

“Ransom drop. What are you talking about?” he asked with his weapon still on me.
 

“This is Andrew Thatcher, the kidnap victim. We made an exchange for his location tonight.”
 

He dropped the weapon. “You say Tabora was in on this?”
 

“Yes, of course he was. He gave us the money to exchange for Andrew,” I said.

“How much money?”
 

“Twenty thousand dollars worth of lempira,” I said. “Please, I’m a nurse. I need to examine Andrew.”
 

The lead came forward, his black military boots crunching bits of glass. “Go ahead, but I need to question him.”
 

The cop asked Andrew how he was taken, who it was, etc…, but Andrew didn’t have any answers. He barely remembered being at The Aviary the night he was taken. The men wore masks and had accents. He couldn’t identify them. I took a closer look at his hand, still braced against the pipe. It was oddly dimpled in the center with a raw wound. Weird.
 

“Andrew, did they shoot you in the hand?” I looked back and his head had dropped onto his chest.
 

“What happened?” asked the cop.

“He passed out. Where’s that ambulance?”
 

“They’re coming. That doesn’t look like a gunshot wound to me.”
 

I nodded and the hand stayed right where it was on the pipe, even with Andrew out cold. “Shit.” I looked at the back of the pipe. The tip of a screw poked through the metal. “They screwed him to the pipe.”
 

The cop took a look. “Shit.”

“That’s one way to make sure he didn’t get away,” I said.
 

Timothy squatted next to me. “Those are some serious freaks. What’ll we do?”
 

I stood up and looked around the empty garage. “We need a power drill.”
 

“Gross.”
 

“We’ve got to unscrew him.”
 

The lead yelled for his men to find a drill ASAP. The ambulance came screaming into the driveway and the EMTs arrived at the garage with a stretcher. Must’ve been their turn to have it.
 

I introduced myself, while they assessed Andrew and started cussing.
 

“Do you have any painkillers with you?” I asked.
 

“No,” said the younger one.
 

The older EMT, a man in his fifties, wouldn’t look at me. He had something.

“We don’t care what you’ve got or why you’ve got it. We need to get this man’s hand off this pipe.” I looked at the lead cop.
 
Correct?”
 

The cop ordered everyone out of the garage and the EMT said, “I have chloroform. It’s illegal, but I keep it for extreme cases.”
 

“Go get it.”
 

He went out to the ambulance and came back with a small bottle and a rag. Now I’ve never used chloroform and didn’t even know anyone who had. I’d have to trust the EMT and it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. Andrew was awake again, looking worse by the minute.
 

“Andrew, we don’t have any regular pain meds, but we have to get your hand off that pipe,” I said as calmly as I could.
 

“No. No. Don’t touch it.” Andrew began shaking. I couldn’t imagine the pain he was in.
 

“Listen. We have chloroform. We can knock you out to do it.”
 

His voice shook. “Okay.”
 

“Timothy, go see if they came up with a drill, or a screwdriver?”
 

He ran out and got an ancient electric drill from someone. “They broke into the house and got it.”
 

I asked for alcohol and the younger EMT, who looked like he really didn’t want to be there, got it and started pouring it all over the drill bit. That’s what we had, one drill bit. He handed it to me and I was ready to do it, but I avoided power tools like herpes.
 

“How does this thing work?” I asked.
 

“You’ve got to pull the trigger,” said the older EMT.
 

I offered it to him and he backed up. Ah, come on. I was surrounded by guys and none of them wanted to use a power tool. What kind of universe was I in?

“Fine,” I said. “How do I unscrew with this thing?”
 

Andrew groaned. “Oh, god.”
 

Timothy took the drill from me and did something to a ring near the bit. “I’ll do it.”
 

“You’ll do it?” I asked. “No, thanks. Someone with medical training should do it.”
 

“Nope. It was meant to be. My parents think I’m a genius, but the only class I ever got an A in was Shop. Besides, I weigh more than any of you. Sometimes you’ve got to put some weight into it.”
 

“Okay.” I was queasy. It was bad enough trusting an EMT with illegal chloroform, now I had a senator’s son unscrewing a man’s hand.
 

“I’m ready,” said Andrew, but he sounded anything but ready. Who could blame him? My bad vacation was nothing compared to his.

“Chloroform him,” I said.

The EMT poured some liquid from the bottle onto a gauze pad and held it to Andrew’s face. He jerked back away from the light sweet smell.
 

“Just breathe it in,” I said.

Andrew forced himself to breathe and in a few seconds he was incoherent.

“Isn’t that enough?” I asked.
 

“No. He can still feel pain,” said the EMT.
 

It seemed like forever before Andrew slumped over, pulling on the hand and the EMT took the gauze away. “Now he feels nothing.”
 

The younger EMT brought in an oxygen tank and fixed a mask over Andrew’s face.
 

The older EMT and I gloved up and retracted the tissue around the wound and the younger one sprayed in saline so we could see the screw. It was buried pretty deep in the tissue and was lodged in Andrew’s third metacarpal.
 

“Go ahead, Timothy. Unscrew him,” I said.
 

Timothy was right. He was meant to do that job. He stepped right up. The bit fit well enough and Timothy had enough weight to make sure it grabbed and the screw was extracted in twenty seconds.
 

We got Andrew on the gurney and in the ambulance in some kind of land speed record. The ambulance peeled away, leaving black tire marks on the previously pristine driveway.
 

“You going?” asked Aaron from a corner in the garage, still chewing on his Snickers bar.
 

“No,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do that they can’t.”

He put the wrapper in his pocket. “Not true.”
 

“I agree,” said Timothy. “You just saved that guy’s life and you’re wearing a bikini. Smoking hot by the way. Very James Bond.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather be wearing sweats or pajamas or any kind of clothes really.”
 

“Let’s go find you some then.”
 

We started to leave the garage, but the cops held us back, saying they needed to take us in for statements. I handled it well, which is to say I teared up and begged. So they took brief statements and let us go. Timothy drove us to La Isla Bonita with a grin on his face. “You cry to get your way often?”
 

“Not as much as you’d think,” I said, snuggling up with my still damp towel. I was all relaxed. Andrew was okay and a little crying never hurt anyone. I just wanted to go back to my room, eat a cheeseburger, and pass out like an EMT had chloroformed me. It was not to be. Timothy pulled onto the resort’s drive to find it blocked by every police vehicle that hadn’t been at the resort house.

Chapter 16

THE SITUATION AT La Isla Bonita wasn’t bad as I originally expected, but then again I expected it to be pretty bad. Spitball, Mauro, Tabora, and his men had paddled their way back to the resort in a life raft after Pinto shot at them. Apparently, there are only so many bullets an engine can take. They managed to slip away when a trio of boats on a night dive came by and heard the firing. They’d arrived about the time we’d been unscrewing Andrew.
 

We found them in the restaurant, still wet but looking pretty pleased with themselves. Spitball was holding court with six beers in front of him. A cop with a plethora of insignia on his shoulders was trying to interview him, but he was doing a pretty good job ignoring the frustrated official. Tabora spotted us and made his way through the crowd with Mauro and Joe following. Joe’s face was so drawn and exhausted, it looked like he’d lost ten pounds on the boat.
 

“Finally,” said Tabora. “We got word that you found Andrew, but little else. What happened?

“We swam to shore and Timothy gave us a ride to Andrew,” I said, indicating my chauffeur, who’d lost interest in us and was busy smiling at a pair of waitresses.

Tabora shook his head. “I was sure you lost the box. Hell. I was sure I lost you. How is Andrew? Did he identify the kidnappers?”
 

“He’ll be fine eventually. They screwed his hand to a pipe and no, he can’t identify anyone.”
 

Joe grabbed Mauro’s shoulder to steady himself. “Did you say they screwed his hand to a pipe?”
 

“I did.”
 

“Where is he?” He glanced around like I might’ve left him on the sand behind me.
 

“Coxen Hole hospital,” I said. “Mauro, can you take him?”
 

Mauro hugged me and whispered in my ear, “I’m glad you’re okay.” Then he left with Joe.

Tabora scratched his chin. “Screwing someone to a pipe. That’s a new one. What about the money?”
 

“We don’t have it,” I said. “You didn’t pull it back in?”
 

“We were busy trying not to get killed.”

“What about the kidnappers?” I asked.

“The Coast Guard found three bodies so far, but more may turn up.”
 

“You know it was Pinto in the third boat, don’t you?” I wrapped the towel tighter around my shoulders. “I’m guessing the money is with him.”
 

He shook his head. “I don’t know how he found out what we were doing. I only cleared it with the highest levels and told no one else. They’re searching for Pinto as well, but I don’t think they’ll find him.”

“How far could he get?”
 

“It’s a big ocean.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I suspected you. On this island, I’ve learned to suspect everyone.”
 

“Don’t worry about it. As long as Pinto’s out of the picture, I’m happy,” I said.
 

Tabora left to go to the hospital and that’s when Mom saw me. She stalked over with an empty glass. “Night dive, huh? You lied to your mother.”
 

“You’d think you’d be used to it.”
 

“Never. You could’ve told me.”
 

“Yeah. I don’t think so,” I said. “Were you worried I was dead?”

Mom snorted. “Those scoundrels couldn’t kill you. You’re too difficult. Besides, you took Aaron with you. Poor little Aaron.” She burped. Mom was martini drunk.
 

“You wanted me to take Aaron, remember?”
 

“No, I don’t.” Mom hugged Aaron. He looked confused. So was I. She squashed his face between her hands. “Look at this face.”
 

I try not to.
 

“Mom, how many drinks have you had?”
 

“We’re celebrating! It’s finally happened.” Mom grabbed me and whispered, “I didn’t think it would, but it did.”

“What happened exactly?” I asked. “Aunt Tenne getting a boyfriend?”
 

She shoved my shoulder, hard, and I nearly fell over. “No, silly. Everything is different.”
 

“What is?”
 

Instead of answering, Mom tried to drag me into the crowd. Not going to happen. “Mom, I don’t want to party. I just want a cheeseburger and bed.”
 

Aaron ran past me to the kitchen. “Aaron!” I yelled. “I didn’t mean…”
 

Mom continued to yank on my arm until Bruno showed up with one of the robes they gave people at the pool. “Just go,” he said.
 

I slipped on the robe and let Mom lead me. She doesn’t drink like that often, but Bruno was right, there was no stopping her when she did. We ended up at a table with the Carrows and the Gmucas along with Aunt Tenne and Dixie. They’d all had more than a few. Bruno prudently disappeared. Nothing is more obnoxious than a bunch of drunks when you’re sober. I put myself into a corner and Dixie, the least tanked of all of them, scooted close.
 

“They found that Colin,” she said. “He was dead drunk in an alley. I heard some officers talking about it.”
 

“Did they get any information about Lucia and Graeme?” I asked.
 

“I don’t think he was conscious.”
 

The waiter brought me a Monkey Lala without me asking and I sipped it slowly. Maybe it was over. They had Colin. He didn’t seem to have a brilliant criminal mind, but every attempt on Lucia’s life had been botched. That had idiot written all over it.
 

“Guess what?” said Dixie, her new blond hair glinting in the soft light of the table candles. “I’m going to write a book.”

“Huh?” I couldn’t focus. What were we talking about?

“I’m going to write about Gavin’s cases. Fictionalized, of course.”
 

“You want to be a crime writer?”

“Why are you so surprised? I was married to a detective and I have all his files.”
 

I couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d decided to be a stripper. Dixie wasn’t like my mom. She had nothing to do with Gavin’s life in crime. They didn’t discuss cases. She wouldn’t even answer the phone when he went private.