Just Different Devils (8 page)

I gave up fighting for my part of the bed during the wee hours, and moved to the main cabin to sleep on the settee. Of course, Po Thang followed me and attempted to horn in on that space, as well, but by now I was completely out of patience with him and let him know it. He settled for sleeping with his chin on my feet.

In a deep sleep, I cursed when the coffee maker burbled and woke me. Nacho was rustling around in the galley. I squinted at the ship's clock: 5:00 a.m. Crap! Nacho is an early riser? Who'd 'a thunk it?

We both got a cup and moved to the back deck to enjoy the sunrise. I wrapped myself in a snuggle blanket Jan gave me that has a bikini-clad woman's body printed on the front. Although one side of his lips twitched when he saw me, Nacho—probably a keen self-preservationist—refrained from commenting. He was dressed in sharp khaki cargo shorts and a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, and even though I'd donned sunglasses on the way outside to at least hide puffy eyes, I knew I looked like I'd slept on my head.

Po Thang made his way to the foredeck and used the pee pad, but only after whining for a boat ride to shore. When he returned he made a beeline for Nacho, who praised him and scratched his back right in front of his tail, sending my dog into an ecstasy of wiggles. Faithless furface.

"How would you like to go to shore, my friend?" Nacho asked Fickle.

It is said that dogs laugh with their tails, and if that's true my dog was in hysterics. "Uh-oh you used the G-word. Now you've got him all excited for nothing. Of course he'd love to, but no dogs allowed on the island."

"I can run him over to the mainland beach," he said, pointing toward the distant shore with his coffee cup. "How far is it?"

"Maybe ten miles. You'll make a friend for life," I said, begrudging his generosity because being grateful to him for anything tended to piss me off. I hate it when bad guys do good things that lead me to think they aren't all that bad when I know they are, and then I end up with said bad guy who proves me right in the first place when he jilts me and runs away with my money....

"Hetta? Are you all right?" Nacho stood and reached over to touch my hand.

I snatched my arm inside my blankie. "What? Why?"

"Because you looked so...sad."

I took a sip of now-cold coffee. "Well, I'm not."

"Good. So, are you ready?"

"For what?"

"To go to the beach,
mi
Corazón.
"

Hoping he didn't realize the discombobulating emotions he sets off when he calls me that, I sprang up and headed for my cabin. "I'll go get Jan."

Why does "my heart" sound so incredibly sexy in Spanish? Or is it just the way Nacho says it?

Jan and I packed a picnic basket of goodies and a cooler with beer and soft drinks while Nacho rigged fishing poles with hopes of snagging our dinner. Po Thang impatiently whined for us all to get a move on.

Finally, everyone was in the boat and we set off, trolling at a leisurely six knots in a boat capable of doing almost forty. We'd heard reports that dorado—mahi-mahi—were still being caught in the warmer than usual water, so Nacho had rigged for one, using a "lucky" lure he'd made himself using a treble hook and a shredded Mylar balloon. Not sure what the Sierra Club would have to say about that, but it worked and only one fish was harmed. He hooked the thirty pounder halfway to shore, and landed it despite a frenetic dog on board.

We drifted in a light breeze while Nacho cleaned our dinner. The fish fight served as an icebreaker, soothing the tension between me and Nacho for the time being. Our only point of contention was how the fish was to be cooked; Nacho wanted it fried, Mexican style. Jan said nope, it should be wrapped in foil with garlic and lime slices and thrown on the grill. I thought sautéed in garlic/butter/tequila would be grand.

Nacho was leaning over the side, rinsing a filet, when out of nowhere Bubbles swooped in and stole it. Po Thang, delighted to see his friend, jumped overboard, rocking the boat and almost launching Nacho headlong into the water. When he recovered his balance, he reached into a small cuddy cabin built under the steering wheel and pulled out a Springfield 9mm XDM identical to mine back in Arizona, evidently intending to plug the fish thief.

I had a moment of gun envy before Jan and I executed a perfect double team tackle on him, taking him down onto the boat's floorboards, knocking the gun from his grip. Jan sat on him, pushing his face into an overturned bait bucket of squid parts.

I fondled the gun.

Things were a lit-tle tense at the dinner table.

As a consolation prize for getting roughed up by a couple of women, we cooked what was left of the fish filets the way Nacho wanted them: Deep fried in a
capeador
coating.
Capeador
comes in a powder form and is made with flour, masa flour, MSG, and enough bi-carb to make it fizz when I add the dark beer. Chilled for ten minutes in the freezer, the batter adheres to the cold filets and they puff up when they hit the hot oil. I had to agree with Nacho that it didn't get any better than this. Jan said we were rednecks.

"So, this dolphin, she is yours?" he asked while washing down the last bite of mahi-mahi dinner with a good crisp Domaine des Préauds Pouilly-Fuissé he probably didn't realize set him back fifty bucks. Jan and I are so fond of shopping with OPM. We also enjoy drinking good wine on Other People's Money.

"Not really. I guess she's Po Thang's, if she has to be labeled as anyone's. They are best buds."

It was obvious the wine had a mellowing effect, because he gave me a wide grin and a slight leer. "And you approve of this mixed race thing?"

"We are an equal opportunity boat," I sniffed, annoyed that his question somehow suggested...something.

Jan laughed. "Oh, yeah, we don't discriminate. In fact, Hetta is one of the least discriminating people I know."

"Hey! You two cut it out. Besides, I've had a serious talk with Po Thang about the inter-species thing," I said this with an air of exaggerated solemnity.

Nacho threw back his head and howled with laughter. This set off Jan and me, ending in a tummy hurting guffaw fest. When we finally settled down and started trading laugh lines about our day, tears rolled as we tried to one-up the other with juvenile one-liners like, "What do you get when you cross a dog and a dolphin."

"I do...not...know," hiccuped Nacho.

"A porposeful relationship."

Jan threw her hands in a stop motion, but then said, "Maybe Po Thang thinks Bubbles is a catfish and that's why he chases her?"

"Okay that's it! Everyone just stop!" I turned away so I couldn't see them and we managed to calm down.

Nacho went for a fresh bottle of wine and when he came back I said, "Oh, Nacho, the look on your face when Bubbles snatched that filet out of your hand was priceless. I thought big bad men like you couldn't be rattled, but that Bubbles did the job."

He tried to look indignant, but failed. "She took me by surprise. And by the way, what are you going to do about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"To me this dolphin seems in danger of becoming too friendly with humans, and dogs. Not all of us are kind, you know."

"What are you, then, human or dog?"

"Hetta!" Jan spluttered. "How rude. You must have heard somewhere that old age is charming in the elderly."

"
Downton Abbey
!" Nacho said.

We stared at him, waiting for an explanation. He shrugged. "The dowager countess. Someone said something like that to her in
Downton Abbey
, and I thought it very clever."

"You watch
Downton Abbey
?" Jan asked, clearly surprised.

"Doesn't everyone?" Nacho stood, gave us a regal bow and headed for his cabin, leaving us with our mouths hanging open.

"Nacho's gay?" Jan asked, cracking us up again.

"I doubt it. But Jenks and Chino wouldn't be caught dead watching
Downton Abbey
."

"Even if they did, they danged sure wouldn't admit it."

Hmmmm. That Nacho is surely an enigma.

"Why so uncommonly quiet this morning?" Jan asked me while we had coffee on deck.

Nacho had left early in his panga, intimating he preferred to fish without interference from dogs, dolphins, and daffy dames. Po Thang was still pouting at the abandonment.

"Do you ever wonder if there is any such thing as the perfect man out there?"

"I thought we had them."

"They wouldn't like
Downton Abbey
."

Jan sighed. "Who would have thought Nacho was in touch with his feminine side?"

"Wonders never cease. But what I really wonder is why he's here? Other than to rob us blind?"

"I'm fairly certain that's not it. He's up to something, for sure. But why does he need us?"

"Cover? Hiding in plain sight?"

We lapsed into thoughtful silence, until a ringing phone broke in. Rushing down into the cabin, I saw the caller was Jenks. "Hi, Honey! How're things in beautiful downtown Dubai?"

"Where are you, Hetta?"

"Uh, on the boat."

"And where is the boat?"

"In the Sea of Cortez?"

"You know what I mean. Chino called. Evidently a friend of his stopped by to see you and Jan late yesterday afternoon and guess what? Your slip is empty. What's up?"

Jan and I made faces at each other. "Fishing."

"Fishing?"

"Yep, we got bored and went fishing. Caught one, too."

"So, you're back in La Paz now?"

"Uh, not exactly. We sort of decided to go hang out at Partida for awhile. You know how safe it is, what with all the cruisers here. And this time of year, no serious weather is even in sight."

Silence.

Not one to let silence linger I asked, "Have you watched
Downton Abbey
yet? Oops, gotta go. Fish on!"

"Well, Hetta, that was pretty lame."

"What was I supposed to say? He had me dead to rights. I promised to stay put, and I didn't."

"But,
Downton Abbey
?"

"You're right. We're gonna have to tell the guys we're chartered for a month. They won't be happy, but it has to be done. We're caught."

"You first."

I reluctantly called Jenks back and told him about the one month charter. That he was not pleased is putting it mildly. "You what?"

"Oh, calm down. I doubt we'll even leave Partida. Guy just wants to fish and he has his own panga. Besides, I need the dough, and it was the Trob who set it up."

"Wontrobski? Well, that's some consolation. Can't you at least get another crew member to help out?"

"Hey! Jan and I are perfectly capable of handling whatever comes up. This isn't our first rodeo, you know."

"This guy who chartered you. Is he a competent sailor? He could be a problem if he's a greenhorn."

"He seems very capable and familiar with his boat. We'll be fine. I'll report in every day if it will make you feel better." I sounded testy.

"You don't have to report to me, and you know it."

I wasn't sure I liked the way that sounded. Too detached? I wanted him attached without telling me what to do. Now who was being difficult? Get a grip, here, Hetta. "You worry too much," I said softly.

"Hetta, someone has to. By the way, what was that about some Abbey?"

Chino was no happier than Jenks about our latest venture, but reluctantly admitted we were probably fine, considering the time of year and where we were.

He hadn't seen
Downton Abbey
, either.

"Well, that's a load off," Jan admitted while I helped her peel apples for a pie. "We also managed not to mention
who
we had on board."

"Which brings us full circle. Why is Nacho here, and what does he really want?"

"I dunno. Let's toss his cabin."

"Ya think Nacho saw this coming?" Jan drawled after we spent twenty minutes searching his cabin.

I held up the third note we found, this one from under his mattress, each one with the same written message: "Is this any way to treat a paying guest, Hetta?"

"He's got your number."

"Obviously we are wasting our time here. Can we bug his boat?"

"I've got a couple of handy devices with me. Girl can't leave home without a few electronic gadgets, you know."

I wrote something rude on the note and stuffed it back under the mattress before slamming his door shut.

Jan headed for what we call our spy locker and unearthed a bag of goodies we had leftover from a previous caper. "Where we gonna plant these? They're designed to plug into a computer's serial port. And he takes his computer with him on the boat, doesn't he?"

"He has an iPad, and it wasn't in his cabin, so I'd say that's a yes. Paranoid so-and-so probably thinks we'll try to hack him."

"Which we would. Problem is, he's sure to notice a thumb drive sticking out of his computer anyhow, doncha think?"

"Okay, then, I have these." She held up what looked like a ball point pen, and a tiny device about the size of a paperclip. "Voice activated. I'll plant 'em on his boat when he gets back."

"Better than nothing, I guess. However, I think we need to get our bugging guru on the phone."

Rosario Pardo now lives in San Jose, California, with his sig-other, Doctor Devine, a.k.a. Doctor Diane Powell. She's a marine biologist, and they met at the whale camp when she was hired as Chino's assistant, much to the chagrin, at first, of Jan. First time I ever saw her jealous.

I met Rosario when he stole my Velveeta cheese, a hanging crime in my book. He was on the lam and hiding on my boat while I was away, but Jan and I trapped and hawg tied him, then learned he thought at least one of the people I was working with at the mine conspired to try and kill him. Which, considering the dearth of Velveeta in central Baja, I felt like doing myself. Rosario turned out to be a computer whiz with a bent toward cyber fraud. It is a trait I can admire when used properly. Jan and I learned a few things from him.

When we reached him at his home office, Jan explained our dilemma. He told her an iPad didn't take the devices we had, then asked who we were trying to hack. "Are you completely nuts? You're going to bug Nacho?
The
Nacho who is either a very bad guy, or a very bad guy who kills bad guys?"

"That would be him. He's, uh, sorta living with us."

Since we had him on Skype we enjoyed his expression, which was somewhere between disbelief and horror. "I will not be a part of this."

"You've suddenly developed scruples? You had no problem bugging
us
, if I recall," I shot back at him.

"You would not kill me for it."

"You underestimate me. Come on, Rosario, you owe us."

He sighed. "An iPad?"

We nodded.

He shook his head. "If I had this iPad, I could do something, but otherwise, no way."

"Crappola. Oh, well, is Doc Delish around? I need to talk to her."

He left and came back with Di in tow. Even though still drop dead gorgeous in the centerfold vein, Jan's streak of jealousy was water under the whale now that the doctor was with Rosario. In another country.

"Hey, you two, what's up?" she asked, those enviable green eyes full of curiosity.

"Bubbles."

Hearing mention of his friend, Po Thang jumped to his feet and tore out on deck.

"Huh?" asked Doc Dish.

"Bubbles is a common dolphin I cut out of a nasty net and now she's adopted Po Thang, or vice versa. Anyhow, she follows the boat around, and she and der hund have a thing going. What's up with that?"

"She's alone?"

"Yes."

"Simple. She's lonely. Dolphins are basically social animals."

"The Sea of Cortez is chock full of dolphins. What is she, some kind of porpoise pariah?"

"Nice piece of alliteration. It's not all that normal but on occasion they do travel alone. We suspect these loners reconnect with pods at some point. Why don't you ask Chino about her?"

"Uh, well, uh..."

"Oh, crap. Are you two on the outs again?"

"No, of course not. I'm working with Hetta on a charter."

In the background Rosario said, "With Nacho. "

Diane's eyes grew wide. "Let me guess. Jenks and Chino don't know this?"

"Not exactly."

"You two need keepers."

"Are we the only ones who don't think we're nuts?"

"I think
you're
nuts," Jan said. She sipped her iced tea and put it down on the deck next to her lounge chair. "Evidently I am considered guilty by association."

"Po Thang, how about you? Are we bonkers?"

"Woof."

"See, he doesn't think so."

"Matter of interpretation."

An idea sprang to mind. "Oh, oh, I've got it! Agent double-oh-D!"

Both Jan and Po Thang cocked their heads, Jan in question, and the dog maybe thinking my excitement involved food, or a walk, or something other than the boredom of hanging around on the boat with a couple of chatting chicas.

"Double-Oh-Dawg. Critter cam, and chip."

"Genius! Po Thang, how would you like to go for nice long boat ride with your Uncle Nacho
mañana
?"

"Woof."

Po Thang has the distinction of not only belonging to
moi,
he is also imbedded with a state-of-the-art GPS tracker invented by his Uncle Craig, veterinarian
extraordinaire
. These gizmos are normally implanted in large farm animals so ranchers riding souped up ATVs can run 'em to ground. However, when Po Thang exhibited a propensity for straying like a free range dogie—which I suspect is how he ended up stranded on the lonely mountainside on Baja's Mex 1 where we found and rescued him—we chipped his wayward rear end.

I'd tried a collar unit, but it didn't have the range and wasn't completely waterproof, so when he went to the beach I had to remove it. Po Thang, after all, is a water-lovin' dog. Now, with his embedded chip, and if he's within ten miles, I can find him with my handy dandy tracker unit.

And, when he took to diving for gold coins during our summer expedition/treasure hunt with Chino last summer, we also fitted him with a critter cam, just in case he tried to skim off the top.

And now he had a new mission: Agent Double O Dawg.