Jay Giles (14 page)
The Tropical Breeze Café, a lunch counter Fish frequented, was a short two-block walk from Shore. We took a booth in the back. Fish sat on one side, Tory and I on the other. A waitress arrived with menus. Fish took one. I waved mine away. “Just coffee.”
“Diet Coke,” Tory said.
We looked at Fish, hunched over the menu studying it intently. He looked up at the waitress. “I’d like a grilled cheese sandwich—not too burnt—with a couple of those pickle slices. And coffee with cream.” He handed her his menu.
“So,” I started in, “should we call you Fish, Frank, Frankie?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t know why everybody calls me Fish. I’ve seen the TV show, and I don’t think I look like the guy.”
They could have been twins, but I wasn’t about to argue. “Tell us a little about yourself. Are you from around here? What do you do at work? What do you like to do on your time off?”
He rested his arms on the table. After a thoughtful pause, the deep voice rumbled out slowly. “I grew up in
Bradenton
. I’ve been a delivery driver for Shore for almost six years now. It’s not a great job, but it’s okay. I like to bowl.”
Not a conversationalist. “What made you decide to get involved with this?”
“You mean this marriage thing?”
“Yes.”
“The boss told me I had to.”
“You didn’t volunteer?”
He shook his head.
“How do you feel about it now?”
“I’ll do my job.”
“It’s a little different than a job. We’re going to need you to court this woman. Can you do that?”
He stared across the table at me. “My last date—this girl and I went to dinner—she told me she had to go to the restroom and never came back.”
“Was that recently?”
“I think it was in 1990.”
I smiled reassuringly. “Well, that won’t happen this time.”
“I don’t know. I’m not very good with women.”
“You don’t have to be. We’re going to let this woman know you’re worth close to ten million. She’ll be all over you.”
His bushy eyebrows flew-up in surprise. “You think?”
I nodded sagely.
Our waitress arrived with our drinks. Fish began opening cream container after cream container, pouring one after another into his coffee. He should have ordered a glass of milk. The waitress came back with his grilled cheese sandwich. He inspected it closely. “You’ve got to be careful. They hide the burnt side on the bottom. After you take a bite, they tell you it’s too late to send it back.”
I took a sip of my coffee. Fish took a bite of his sandwich. I waited until he swallowed, asked, “Think you can act like our ten-million-dollar guy?”
He nodded, ate one of his pickle slices.
“We’re going to need to take a look at your wardrobe. See if we have to add some things to make you look wealthy,” Tory said.
“We ought to take a look at your place, too. See if it works. Where do you live?”
He chewed, swallowed, took a sip of coffee. “I’ve got a doublewide out at Bee Ridge Estates. Close to the highway.”
Swell. I’d have to find him a place.
“Do you go out much?” Tory wanted to know.
Fish looked at her blankly.
“You know, socialize.”
“I’m in three different bowling leagues. I get out now and then.”
“Ever been to A.A.?” I asked him pointedly.
His brow furrowed. “Alcoholics Anonymous?”
I nodded.
“Naw.” He ate another of his pickle slices. “I usually stick to beer. Never had a problem. You only rent beer, you know.”
“Tonight, we’re going to an A.A. meeting to observe,” Tory explained to him. “The woman we’re interested in goes to A.A.”
“She’s got a problem?”
“No. A.A. seems to be the place she hooks up with guys. We’re thinking it’s the place where we can introduce you.”
“Tonight, we want to get a sense of the place. What the room looks like. How many people attend. Where she sits. That kind of thing.”
“The lay of the land. I can handle that,” he said, finishing off his grilled cheese.
“Right. At the next meeting, we’ll put the two of you together.”
Fish pushed his empty plate away. Burped softly. Pulled his coffee cup closer. “You’re going to be there with me, right?”
“We’ll be there,” Tory assured him. “You think you’ll know anybody else there?”
“You mean, like, friends?”
She nodded.
He shrugged. “It’s possible. But I kind of doubt it.”
“If you don’t think you’ll run into people you know, we could give you a different name and background. If you could handle that, it might make things easier.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“She’s not dumb. She’ll check up on you. Knowing that, we can create a background that will pass inspection. We make you someone from out of town who has just recently moved here. That way we can limit how much she can find out about your assets.”
His jowls quivered. I took that as an okay.
I took a sip of coffee. “I can get friends at my old brokerage in
Detroit
to create a shell identity. When she checks it out, they’ll be very guarded, passing along only the information we want her to know. You’ll be the new rich guy in town, the one with a drinking problem, a drinking problem that may have damaged your health.”
“Bad liver?”
“You could be borderline transplant. I’ve got a doctor client I bet will help set that up.”
Our waitress appeared at the table. “Get you anything else?”
“Just the check,” I said.
She wrote it out, tore it off her pad, placed it on the table.
“Should we look at wardrobe for tonight?” Tory asked.
I slid out of the booth and stood. She followed. “Why don’t we divide and conquer,” I suggested. “You do clothes. I’ll set up the background identity. What time is the meeting?”
“Eight. In town.”
“Let’s meet back up at the Pier Grille at six. How’s that?”
She nodded. “Are you going to change your appearance? You’d better if you want to go to the meeting.”
She was right. If they recognized me, the whole thing would fall apart. “I’ll do something. See you at six.”
I watched them leave, paid the bill, and headed back to the office to use the phone. The first call was to my old brokerage in
Detroit
. When I hung up an hour later, we’d figured out how to set up accounts for Fish without violating any securities laws. I had enough trouble with the N.A.S.D. already. I didn’t need more. Anyone who checked would discover an executive checking account, equities account, bond account, Roth IRA, and R.E.I.T account—all with substantial balances. What they’d actually be accessing were fictional accounts for an upscale investor created for use in a new packet of promotional materials.
The fictional name on the accounts was Frank Ford. Even the name seemed to suit Fish.
Now that he had money, I started calling to set up Frank Ford’s medical history. That took longer. Even when you handle a doctor’s investments, it’s hard to get one to call you back. Both the doctors I needed—one in
Detroit
, one here in
Sarasota
—eventually called, reluctantly went along with creating a medical record showing chronic liver damage for Frank Ford.
My next call was to yet another client, this one a real estate owner with properties on Longboat and Siesta Keys. Since it was summer, he had lots of furnished units available for lease. I rented the flashiest one, a penthouse condo at the Sovereign, in Frank Ford’s name for a month with an option to renew for a month.
I was down to my last call. Edith Hellsberg was an older lady who lived in my building at the Watergate and handled costuming and makeup for the Sarasota Actors Theatre. She thought it would be great fun to help me alter my appearance, said I should come to the theatre where she could work on me.
I saw her as soon as I entered the theatre lobby. Wearing a white smock, she was a small, gray-haired lady with a big smile. She rushed over, shook my hand, and pulled me along to her work area. “I love makeovers. By the time I’m done with you, your own mother won’t recognize you.”
We reached her area. “Sit on this stool,” she said. As soon as I was situated, she tied a cape around my neck, spun me around to face a lighted mirror. “How different do you want to look?”
I had a feeling she was going to pile on the stage makeup. That wasn’t what I wanted. “I need a few tricks, Edith. Simple things I can do and undo to alter my appearance.”
She frowned. “On-and-off stuff, huh. Let’s think what we can do.” The frown was replaced by a smile. “I know. Hold on. Let me get a few things.” She dashed out of the room.
I waited, thinking going there might have been a bad idea. There wasn’t any reason I had to be at the A.A. meeting. If I didn’t go, none of this would be necessary.
Edith returned, arms loaded. “Wait till you see what I’ve got,” she said happily. She dumped it all on the counter. “Let’s start with the shoes. Take yours off. Try these on.
I put them on and was suddenly three inches taller.
“Lifts,” she explained. “Are those shoes big enough?”
“They’re a little tight—”
“Suck it up,” she said, digging in the pile for something else. “Sit down. Take your shirt off and put this on.”
I took off the cape, then my shirt. This thing she had me putting on was like a vest, but with padding at the bottom that gave me a huge gut.
