“Seychelle, we need to talk,” Rusty said. “I heard about what happened this afternoon.”
“Hey, not here,” I said, nodding my head to indicate the child sitting on my lap.
“Then let’s go where we can talk. Collazo called me. This situation is becoming very difficult to defend. After today’s events, it’s time to turn her over—”
I cut him off. “Rusty, I said we’d talk later. After we let these kids burn off a little energy and we give Jeannie a break.”
“Speaking of which,” Jeannie said, “I think I’m ready to try out that water before this chair demonstrates what happens when you exceed its load capacity.”
“I think we are, too. Right, kiddo?” Solange didn’t look too happy about it. She was wearing red boys swim trunks and a bright yellow tank top. We both sat on the edge of the pool, dangling our feet in the water, and watched Jeannie as she unzipped the front of her muumuu and stepped out in a matching lizard-covered swimsuit. The great thing about Jeannie, though, was how at ease she was in her body and how light on her feet. She walked down the steps and lowered herself into the water, bobbing right into the middle of a splash fight between her boys, dunking one and splashing the other with a playfulness and ease I envied. Some people seemed to be born knowing how to act around kids.
Little fingers tapped my upper arm. Solange was looking up at me and speaking softly. “I go home with you? I stay with you and Abaco?”
“No, look, I can’t keep you at my place. I... you know, I’m not set up to take care of kids, with the right food and all that.”
“I don’t eat much.”
“Ah, geez, Solange, it’s not that.” I put my arm around her narrow shoulders and hugged her to me. “It wouldn’t be safe. We’re keeping you here because the Capitaine doesn’t know about this place. He could find you at my place.” Bringing up the Capitaine’s name reminded me that I needed to get over to Port Laudania to look for the freighter. After another half hour or so around here, I’d have to bow out and take a quick trip up to Dania.
Solange tapped my arm again to make me look at her. “You stay here, too. You be safe.”
“Oh, I’m okay. And I’m hardly ever at my place these days. You know, I’m going to have to leave in a few minutes. I’ve got to find your father, your papa.”
She didn’t say anything after that. We just sat together and watched as Jeannie threw her boys into the air and the three of them laughed and hooted and splashed.
Rusty stood and called out to us, “You guys want to see my boat?”
His boat was the last one at the north end of the condo complex’s docks. He’d trotted on ahead and was already standing in the boat tying a canvas strap to the side of the hull when Solange and I arrived on the dock off the stem of his boat.
“Oh my God, Rusty. Why do rational people completely lose it when it comes to naming their boats?”
“You like it?” He looked so damned cute standing there grinning up at me, his shaggy blond hair falling in his eyes, that knit shirt showing off his sculpted chest.
“Folks must figure you either work for Immigration or Allstate,” I said, pointing to the lettering on the stem that read INS AGENT. “What were you thinking?”
Rusty’s boat was not the prettiest thing on the dock, but the man kept it immaculate. For a boat that was over twenty-five years old, it looked great. He had repainted the fiberglass hull with one of the new polyurethane paints, and all the stainless was polished to a mirror finish. The blue canvas bimini that provided the shade Rusty was standing in looked brand new. The tide was such that the deck of his boat was almost perfectly level with the wood dock, and even Solange had no trouble hopping aboard. The steering wheel was offset to the left, and just forward of that and down a step, double wood doors stood open, revealing the tiny sink and V-berth in the cuddy cabin.
Solange let go of my hand and moved away from me for the first time since I’d arrived. As she scampered down into the cramped forward cabin, I thought that I should feel relieved, but I was starting to enjoy the attachment.
“There you go, young lady,” Rusty said, bending forward at the waist to look into the cabin. Solange was stretched out on the bunk. “You’re just about the right size for that cabin.” He stood up and faced me. “She’s a twenty-five-foot Anacapri with double bunk V-berth in the cuddy cabin along with an enclosed head. Well, the head is mostly for people about Solange’s size, too.” He went on to show me his collection of rods stowed neatly in the cabin’s overhead, his fresh bait well, his cast net for catching bait, lifejackets, flares, the inflatable dinghy in the seat locker with C02 cartridges so it could double as a life raft. I understood that he was damn proud of that boat, but it wasn’t like I had never seen a standard boat U.S. flare kit. I was beginning to think the term obsessive-compulsive might apply. Then I saw him rub my fingerprints from the gel coat after I touched the topsides rail, and I was convinced.
“So, this is your ‘classic,’ eh? I gotta admit, you keep a clean boat, Agent Elliot. I assume your engines are just as clean?”
“You bet. Twin Mercs. They’re not the newest engines, but if you spend the time and give them a little TLC, they’ll keep running for a long time.”
“I wish more people thought that way. If it weren’t for all the yahoos out there breaking down every weekend, there probably wouldn’t be so many people jumping into the towing business. It’s getting harder and harder for a slow boat like Gorda to make it.”
“You do all right.”
“How do you know? You been checking up on me, Agent Elliot?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t have let this child go into the hands of people I knew nothing about.” He pointed down toward the cuddy cabin where Solange, lying on her belly on the blue canvas mattress, watched us with her head propped up on her two fists.
Rusty looked at his watch. “Hey, it’s almost five-thirty. You getting hungry?”
“I guess I could use a little something. I haven’t eaten much all day.”
“What do you say we take the boat down the Intracoastal a bit and hit one of those waterfront restaurants? That would also give us the chance to talk in private.”
I had just been thinking about getting a look at Port Laudania, and here was the perfect way. “Sounds good to me, except, there’s this place up the Dania Canal—”
“Sure, I know the place. Tugboat Annie’s? Perfecto. Then I’ll be able to say—”
“Just stop it right there,” I said. “There is nothing original about making a Tugboat Annie joke to me.”
Tugboat’s was a favorite waterfront bar and restaurant with an outdoor dining area that served up barbecue and reggae, along with cans of Off on weekend afternoons for those brave enough to face the no-see-ums. Their logo and namesake was a caricature of an old crone smoking a pipe, leaning out the wheelhouse window of a tug. I’d been the object of way too many jokes that noted some physical similarities between the crone and me. I kept pointing out to folks that I’d never smoked a pipe.
“Okay, I promise. No Tugboat Annie jokes if you’ll lay off the name of my boat.”
“Deal.” I shook his hand, then peered down into the cuddy cabin. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you back to Auntie Jeannie.”
The boys were still splashing and shouting in the pool, but Jeannie had installed herself on a wrought-iron bench that looked far sturdier than the webbed pool furniture. The bench backed up against the wood fence around the pool and Jeannie looked absolutely regal surveying the pool deck from beneath the brim of a white floppy hat. She turned to us and waved as we came around the corner and up the steps from the docks.