Geezer Paradise (28 page)

             
"You always over react." 

             
Later, I went out for pizza and we ate on our small front porch.  I was reading a copy of the Tampa Sun that I had picked up at a nearby variety store.  There was a picture of Flaherty and his wife. 

             
"Listen to this," I said to Willey and Snydely.  "Flaherty is throwing a big fundraiser at his house for some charity."

             
"Yeah, Snydely said.  "He does that every year.  His wife is quite the social climber.  Their pictures are always in the newspapers for attending some event for charity.  If you didn't know them you'd think they were good people.  If I could get in that house I'd go straight for Flaherty's real set of books.  Then his next event would be in jail."

             
"You mean he keeps two sets of books?" I asked.

             
"Of course he does.  If those books got into the wrong hands Flaherty would be doing fifteen to twenty."

             
"Have you ever seen the books, Snydely?" Willey asked.

             
Snydely said, "A few years back Flaherty couldn't open the wall safe he keeps them in.  He sent me to his house to let the technician in.  The technician drilled out the old dial and put a new one in.  The technician gave the new combination to me.  After he left I opened the safe and found a small flash drive.  I took it downstairs, plugged it into a computer, and there they were, the real books.  He even mentioned Buckman's bribes by name and amount."

             
"Do you still have the combination to the safe?"  Willey asked.

             
"Yes," Snydely said.  "I keep it in my wallet."

             
Willey said, "You know, Snydely, if we could slip into that party and get those books into the right hands you'd be a free man again.  No more looking over your shoulder wondering if there's somebody following you.  And me and Barney could go back to our houses."

             
Snydeley's eyes widened.  "They'll be hundreds of people there.  There's no way you could get into that party without being recognized.  It's impossible."

             
"I'll bet they have lots of wait staff at those parties," Willey said.  "You know, people who walk around with trays full of drinks and those scallops baked with slices of bacon wrapped around them.  I love those things."

             
"Wait a minute, Willey, ' I said.  "Have you forgotten that they've seen us?  They know what we look like.  They'd grab you as soon as you walked in.  You could never pass yourself off as the hired help."

             
Willey sat up straighter in his chair.  "I'm willing to bet I could walk around that party unrecognized," he said.  "All I'd have to do is trim my hair and beard, and dye them both brown.  They wouldn't recognize me in a hundred years."

             
"How about me?" I asked.  "I don't have a beard to trim and I don't have much hair.  How could I disguise myself?"

             
"Barney," Willey said.  "You don't need a disguise.  You look like every old Irishman in the world, white hair, pudgy face, dumb expression.  You're almost invisible."

             
"How nice of you to say so."

             
"Don't mention it."

             
Then Willey asked Snydely, "What do the wait staff wear?"

             
"They wear black pants, white shirt, and a black bowtie."

             
"And where do the catering trucks park with the food?"

             
"They park at the rear of the house near the kitchen."

             
Willey said, "In the catering business the staff changes constantly.  People are always quitting and they have to replace them.  Those people are all strangers to each other.  Nobody would question us."

             
Willey went on questioning Snydely.  "Where is the wall safe?"

             
"In the second floor bedroom above the kitchen at the back of the house."

             
"Where in the bedroom is the safe located?"

             
"Behind a portrait of Misses Flaherty."

             
Willey said, "All we'd have to do is mingle with the staff as they get out of the truck.  What does the surrounding area look like, Snydely?  Are the houses close.  Are they walled in?  Are they gated?"

             
"Yes, yes, and yes," Snydely said."The only side that's not walled is the rear, where it's open to the water."

             
"Perfect," Willey said.  "It's on the water.  Where is this house, anyway.?"

             
"It's on Sunset Island," Snydely said.  "You have to cross the causeway to get to it--unless you come by boat."

             
Willey asked, "Is that one of those causeways where you can pull off to the side of the road and sit on the sand in lawn chairs?"

             
""Yes, you see a lot of that," Snydely said.  "Why?"

             
Willey said, "We could blow up the rubber raft on the side of the causeway the night of the party and launch it right there."

             
"We left the raft back in the swamp," I said.

             
"So well go get it."  Willey was warming up to his crazy plan.  "After dark we'll set ashore in the shadows at Flaherty's place.  We'll wait until there's only a few of the waiters around the catering truck and then we'll walk right up and take trays, and head inside the house.  Once we're inside we'll find our way to the bedroom, open the safe, and grab the flash drive.  Once we get the flash drive we'll wander off like we're going for a smoke.

             
We'll disappear into the shadows again and head for the raft.  We could probably be in and out within twenty minutes. What do you think, Barney?"

             
"I think you're out of your mind if you think I'm going to be any part of that idiotic scheme."

             
Willey ignored me.  "Snydely, you and Oscar could wait in the raft to make sure nobody messes with it."

             
Snydely said, "I'm not going along with that.  That's a very risky proposition."

             
"No riskier than trying to hide from Flaherty's murderous goons," Willey said.  "That flash file would give us the hard evidence we need to be rid of Flaherty and his crew for good. How about we make a dry run?  Just to see what the place looks like from the water.  Maybe it'll be easier than you think."  I just shook my head, no.

             
"Okay," Willey said.  "Snydely, if you'll just give me the combination to the safe I'll do it myself."

             
Snydely opened his wallet and took out a slip of paper.  He handed it to Willey and said, "Knock yourself out." 

             
"Wait a minute," I said to Willey.  "You can't go in there alone.  That would be crazy."

             
"Somebody has to do it," Willey said.  I sat quietly hoping Willey would give in.  He was as stubborn as a mule.  "It'll be a piece of cake," he said.

             
"That's what you said about breaking into Flaherty's office, and look how that turned out."

             
"So you guys did break-in there," Snydely said, smiling.  "I knew you did."

             
"We just had bad luck," Willey said.  "That can't happen again."

             
"Who says?" I asked.

             
"I say so.  Stop being such a wuss.  Beside, we'd just be crashing a party.  Nothing criminal." 

             
"I'd be more worried about Flaherty's goons than the police.  You saw what they did to Freddy."

             
"We have guns," Willey said.  "Freddy didn't." 

             
Then Snydely went wobbly on me.  "It would be nice to get my life back and not have to hide," he said. 

             
"Okay, Snydely," Willey said.  "It'll be me and you.  Forget about Barney.  We'll do it ourselves."

             
I looked at Snydely and hoped he would regain his senses.  But instead he said, "Alright, Willey, let's do it.  Only you'll have to get me a gun.  I'm not going in there unless I can protect myself, and I'll need a really good disguise." 

             
"Fair enough," Willey said.

             
I said, "Wait a minute, you can't take Snydely in there and put him in danger.  We're being paid to protect him." 

             
"Don't worry," Willey said.  "Eduardo will never know."

             
"Fine, do what you want," I said.  "I'm washing my hands of the whole mess." 

             
That afternoon I drove them to the swamp to rescue the raft.  I had agreed

to drive them around and drop them off at the Sunset Island Causeway.  What

happened to them after that wasn't my responsibility.  After we retrieved the raft

we stopped at a sporting goods store to buy the gas cylinders that inflate it.  Then

we were off to a clothing store to buy the black pants, white shirts, and black

bow ties they needed for their Quixotic attack on Flaherty's house.

              We stopped at a gun shop and Willey bought a gun for Snydely, since

  Snydely was afraid to use his own name. 

              I asked Willey, "What if Flaherty finds out you bought a gun?  It will tell him what area we're in." 

             
"Flaherty isn't Superman." Willey said.  "An area is a big place to look for somebody.  Don't worry about it."  Later we picked up hair dye for Willey.  We were getting hungry so we stopped at a ribs joint for take-out.  We went back to the safe house to watch TV.  Willey spent the evening cutting his hair and beard, and dying them both brown.  He looked ridiculous.  Snydely had bought a pair of drugstore glasses and a fake mustache.  He thought doing that and changing the way he combed his hair would disguise him.  They would grab him the minute he set foot into Flaherty's house, and that would be the end of him.  Tomorrow they would put everything on the line.  It gave me heartburn just thinking about it--or was it the barbeque sauce?

Chapter Eighteen

IT WAS JUST getting dark when we turned onto the Sunset Island Causeway that connect
s the Island to the mainland.  There was a small, sandy strip of beach on each side.  It was an overcast night and there was nobody in site--just the occasional car going by.  At least they had that going for them.  Willey pulled the deflated raft out from behind the back seat of the Wrangler and pulled the cords to inflate it.  The raft did its hissing dance on the beach.  As usual, Oscar hid behind the Wrangler.  When the raft was inflated we put it into the water. 
              "Are you sure you won't change your mind and come with us?" Willey asked me. 

             
"I couldn't even if I wanted to," I said.  "I don't have a caterer's uniform."

             
"You could wait in the raft for us to come back," Willey suggested.

             
"You won't be coming back," I said.  "They'll grab Snydely the second he sets foot in that house.  I could spot him a mile away." 

             
"Willey, you told me they wouldn't recognize me!" Snydely whined.

             
I said, "Snydely, that's no disguise at all.  You might as well put a napkin on your head.  That would be a better disguise than what you've got." 

             
"Willey, you told me . . ." Snydely whined again.

             
Willey scratched his head.  "Maybe if we got a magic marker and drew some long sideburns on him . . ."

             
Snydeley's mouth dropped open.  "You're going to get me killed!" he screamed at Willey.

             
"Maybe you're right, Barney," Willey said.  That's not much of a disguise.  You know, you and Snydely are just about the same size.  You two could swap clothes and . . ."

             
"No you don't.  I'm not getting myself killed over a half witted scheme like this."

             
"Alright," Willey said.  "I'll do it alone.  Snydely you can wait in the raft and Barney can stay here with Oscar until we get back.  Let's go Snydely," Willey said as he got into the raft.  Snydely got in and picked up a paddle.  Damn, Willey is a pain in the ass sometimes, but I couldn't let him go alone and get killed.  Together we might have a fighting chance. 

             
"Snydely," I said.  "Give me your damn clothes."  Ten minutes later Willey, Snydely, Oscar, and I were paddling our way across the Intracoastal toward Sunset Island.  I was wearing the mustache, the drugstore glasses, and the waiter's uniform.  Snydely was wearing my clothes.  

             
"Willey said, "You saw Snydely and me practicing how we were going to do it, Barney.  Do you remember?"

             
"Yes, I remember," I said.  I didn't feel like talking.  Snydely and Oscar were in the front of the raft.  Willey and I were in the rear, paddling.  I couldn't help staring at Willey with his trimmed hair and beard, both brown.  He looked like a shady character in an old "B" movie. We paddled toward Sunset Island with Snydely giving us directions.  When we got near Flaherty's place we could see the lights and hear the music.  It was fully dark and the party was in full swing.  There was a long dock coming from Flaherty's beachfront that extended out to the middle of the Intracoastal.  The Intracoastals run between the mainland and the barrier islands.  They're shallow, just a few feet deep.  Larger boats with a deeper draft have to stay out in the dredged channel that runs down the middle.  We tied up the raft under the dock. and sloshed ashore.

             
"We'll be back in about twenty minutes," Willey told Snydely.  I hoped he was right.  Willey and I got into the deep shadow of the wall that enclosed the property.  We stayed in the shadows as we moved closer to the rear of the house.  It was an enormous salmon colored stucco mansion with beautifully manicured lawns, and gardens.  There, behind the house, was the caterer's truck just as Snydely had predicted.  There was a stream of waiters and waitresses taking trays from the back of the truck and carrying them into the kitchen. 

             
We waited until the flow slowed to just a few.  "Now," Willey said.  Willey and I came out of the shadows and got in line.  We were handed trays.  Willey had small sandwiches, I had glasses of white wine.  We followed those in front of us.  We entered into the back of the house through an oversized kitchen with enough equipment to cook for a major restaurant.  From there we climbed a flight of stairs to what could only be described as a ballroom.  The Flahertys lived large.

             
Out we went onto the ballroom floor.  Here and there people stopped us to raid our trays.  It was working, we looked like we belonged there--until Stevens stopped me for a glass of wine.  He was already half in the bag, but he gave me a second look.  I moved away quickly.  I looked around for Flaherty and spotted him in a corner with Senator Buckland.  I gave them plenty of room.  When our trays were empty we headed back to the stairs leading down to the kitchen.  Only this time we went upstairs to the second floor.  We stopped at the top of the stairs and looked for the master bedroom.  Snydely had said there was a small gilded table next to the bedroom door.  It was straight ahead.  We put our trays on the floor and pulled on our rubber gloves.  We held our breath as we turned the knob.  For all we knew we might come face to face with someone.  Thankfully the large bedroom was empty, but all the lights were on.  No conservation here.  We scanned the walls for a portrait of Mrs. Flaherty.

             
"There it is," Willey said, pointing.  We went over to it.  I gently pulled at the left side of the frame and it swung out on hinges.  There in the wall was the safe.  Willey had our moves planned out.  Willey pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and started to read the combination to me.  I did as he said, but when we finished the safe refused to open.  I started to sweat even though the house was air conditioned. 

             
I spun the dial.  "Read it again," I said.  We went through the process again, and this time the safe door swung open.  I reached in.  There, under some papers, I found the small, black flash drive. 

             
Just then the bedroom door flew open and Mrs. Flaherty came rushing in.  We froze, not moving a muscle.  She was in such a rush she didn't even see us.  We were barely breathing.  She rushed to a dresser and opened a jewelry box.  She took out a necklace and put it on.  Then she rushed back out the door, slamming it behind her.  My heart was pounding. 

             
"I don't think she saw us," I said.

             
"No," Willey agreed.  "She would have screamed."

             
Willey took a plastic sandwich bag out of his pocket and held it open.  I carefully dropped the flash drive into it.  Then Willey put the bag into his pocket, while I closed the safe door and spun the dial.  I gently swung the portrait back into place, and we headed for the door.  Willey opened the door and said, "All clear."  We picked up our serving trays from the floor, and we were halfway down the stairs when I said, "The gloves!"  We quickly pulled them off our hands and stuffed them into our pockets.  We were passing the ballroom door when we heard laughing coming from inside.  Out of curiosity we looked inside.  We lost our breath when we saw what they were laughing at.  Oscar was standing on a table that held a champagne fountain.  He had a wine glass in his hand and was holding it under a stream of the golden liquid.  Then he downed it.  The crowd loved it.  They thought Oscar was part of the entertainment.  Then Oscar refilled his glass and did it again.