Hot Rocks (19 page)

forty-six

Three a.m. Somewhere I
read or heard that three in the morning is the best time for burglaries and other skullduggery. Normal people are sound asleep behind their locked and alarmed doors and windows. The hour belongs to those who take it.

Guess that meant my small group was not normal. We crept along the beach working our way toward Tomasco’s Boca mansion. The Palm Beach County Sea Turtle Protection Ordinance worked to our advantage. Its no-lights-allowed kept us bathed in the darkness of the moonless night. Of course, the sky was clear and the stars and the luminescence of the ocean made things brighter than I wished them to be.

“This is it,” Bruce said. “Gerald, Lodo, come with me as we planned. The rest of you stay put until I call you in. If I’m not back in ten minutes, run like hell and find a new plan for another night.”

Bob, Dot, and I hunkered down against the concrete wall along the beach line of the property while the three of them made their way toward a personnel gate. “Cross your fingers,” I said, “and wish them luck. I really want to get this over with tonight.”

“I shoulda gone,” Dot said. “I ain’t got no trust for him. They might just walk right in and sell us out.”

“We’ll know in ten minutes or less,” Bob said. “Bruce is opening the gate, and the others are going over the wall now.”

Bruce, Gerald, and Lodo disappeared from view and we, at least I, spent the next minutes staring at the spots I’d last seen them. The waves splashed onto the shore, paying no attention to the rapid thumping of my heart.

If I’d taken the time and looked around, I might have spotted a sea turtle making its way onshore to lay eggs. But I had no thoughts of wildlife, other than the kind that walks upright on two legs. The turtles would be back next year and in future years. I had my best shot at Tomasco tonight.

More upsetting to my plans would have been a beach patrol stumbling onto us. Palm Beach County was serious about its illumination ordinance and enforced it with vigor. Possible answers to their inevitable questions never entered my mind. I couldn’t tear my concentration away from the gate Bruce walked through. My whole world centered on the swing of those hinges.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was only seven minutes, Bruce came through the gate and waved us forward. “Coast is clear,” he said. “We neutralized the guards and shorted the alarms. Are you ready?”

“What did you do with the guards? Are they still there? What should I expect from them when I enter the compound?”

“They decided to take the rest of the night off. Seems Tomasco insulted their gang colors. With a little persuasion from Gerald and Lodo, they decided there are things more important than money. Now, do you need me to unlock the door?”

“No, I can handle the lock. Thanks, it’s time—”

“Not so fast,” Bruce said. “There is one other issue. Tomasco has company, a female companion.”

“Darn.” That was the last thing I wanted to hear—well, maybe not the last, but way down the list.

“The guard said she arrived about ten and hasn’t left. That makes me assume she’s sleeping over.”

I hesitated, hating his words. My quarrel was with Tomasco, not some local call girl. I did not want to involve an innocent person, no matter how she made a living.

“I’ll go with you,” Bob said. “If there’s a problem, I can hold her out of the picture while you do your thing.”

“No,” I said, perhaps too sharply, then mentally cursed myself. He only wanted to help. “Sorry, thanks, but Tomasco has to know this is my show. If you go in with me, he won’t see it that way. His male chauvinism will kick in, and he’ll write me off as a threat.”

“I see your point,” Bob said. “What’s your alternative?”

“Hey, what am I—seaweed?” Dot said. “Just some hooker in there. I’ll take care of her.”

Now that put me in a dither. I couldn’t use Bob, Bruce, or any of the other men. If one of them showed up, Tomasco wouldn’t take me seriously. As soon as the men were out of sight, he’d go back to treating me like a piece of fluff. But taking Dot was a risk I didn’t cherish. She’d already proven she could be a loose cannon, and that was the last thing I wanted behind me. I studied her face, trying to discern intent. “Will you do exactly what I say? No questions? No arguments? No rushing off on your own?”

“Of course, deary,” she said, as if she always listened to others. “You jist hand ’er over, then worry ’bout Tomasco. Maybe she’d like to play a bit of two-handed stud.”

“Uh-huh.” I thought a moment longer but didn’t find another solution. “Okay, Dot. But I swear you’d better do what I tell you.”

“So, tell already. You’re windier than an old man after a can of pork ’n beans.”

“Let’s go. We can walk and talk.”

“Hold it,” Bruce said. “You still carrying that pea shooter?”

“My .32? Yeah. What about it?”

“Trust me. It won’t impress Tomasco. Take this one.” He pushed
a pistol, grip first, in my direction. “It’s an M9 Beretta, standard military weapon. Carries a fifteen-round magazine, which is full. Lightweight enough for a woman and enough stopping power for a cop.” He turned the weapon slightly. “Here’s the safety. It’s on now. Take it off when you decide to shoot him. There’s a round in the chamber.”

Ignoring his supposition, I accepted the weapon and hefted it. The weight was good, and it had a nice feel. I slid the safety back and forth, feeling a spring pop it into position. “Thanks.”

“Can I have the little one?” Dot said. “He took back his .38.” She glared at Bruce. “Never know when a lady might have to defend herself.”

I shrugged and handed the .32 to her. Worst she could do was shoot me.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Dot said. “Let’s go.” She took off in front of me waving the pistol around like she was Al Capone looking for the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.

forty-seven

I stood for an
instant, then raced after Dot, catching her before she barged into the back yard. I grabbed her shoulder and scooted past. “Stay behind me. And be quiet.”

I inched my way across the rear of the house to the porch. The lock wasn’t difficult to pick. Only took a minute or so. I could have done it in seconds if Dot hadn’t hung over me, breathing in my ear, and bumping my back and arm. I was already regretting my decision to take her along.

The door swung inward on quiet hinges, and we were in. The sketch of the layout was as Bruce said, and I found the stairs at the end of the foyer. I didn’t worry about the floor or the stair treads squeaking—they wouldn’t dare. Beach mansions coddled the very rich, those that wealthy politicians love to excoriate for having too much money, those that politicians of both parties visit Florida to cultivate.

There were several doors leading off a hallway at the top of the staircase, each of them closed—a development that did not please me. I hesitated. “Which do you think is his bedroom?” I whispered.

“Move outta the way, deary. I’ll find him.” Dot shoved by me and before I could grab her, pressed her ear against first one door, then another. She made a round of the doors then returned to the fourth and waved me forward. “All yours,” she whispered. “They’re in here. Two of them. Sounds like they’s asleep. Ain’t nobody in the others.”

I listened, but heard nothing. Maybe Dot’s street living had given her super hearing. I twisted the knob, pleased that it turned, and the door opened with a gentle push. Muted light filtered into the room from the stars outside. There were two lumps in the bed, a man on the near side and a woman on the far. The sheet was down around their waists, and there was no doubt which was which. Also, there was no doubt she had been medically enhanced. Even lying on her back, they pointed straight up. No sliding under the armpits for her—ever.

I turned to instruct Dot, but saw she was making her way to the woman’s side of the bed. Shaking my head in frustration, I flipped on the light and went after Tomasco. Slamming the barrel of the Beretta against his temple, I said, “Okay, asshole. Party time.”

He came awake with a start, his eyes glassy, so I withdrew, backing off a couple of steps. Didn’t want him flailing around in surprise and knocking the gun out of my hand. Beside him, the woman’s eyes flew open and grew large as they focused on the barrel of Dot’s weapon, hovering a couple of inches from the tip of her nose.

“You’n me going for a walk,” Dot said. “Get up.”

The woman didn’t move. She appeared fascinated by Dot and the .32.

“Now,” Dot said, shoving the pistol into the woman’s boob. “Want me to blow silicone all over the room? I can give you a blowout that will take a NASCAR pit crew to reinflate that boob.”

“I’m getting up,” she said, swinging her legs from under the sheet.

Staring at her bare ass, I wondered what guys find so fascinating about naked women. Didn’t look hot to me. With a bit of prodding from Dot, she headed toward the door and out of the room. I hoped Dot would find her something to wear before she dealt the cards.

“Who … who are you?” Tomasco said. “What do you want?”

I saw a pair of glasses on the nightstand and picked them up. “Here. Put these on and try again.” I tossed them at him.

He slipped the specs on and stared at me. His features relaxed. “Oh, Miss Bowman. Not my normal office hours, but I gather you have business with me. Speak. You have the floor.”

So much for intimidating him with my grand entrance. I stepped forward and rested the barrel of the Beretta between his eyes. “You bet your ass I have the floor. Now get your butt out of bed. And if I don’t like what I see, I might shoot it off.”

That produced a flinch and a look of fear. Mention doing harm to a man’s pride and joy, and you get his attention every time.

He slid his legs off the side of the bed and rose to his feet, wrapping the sheet around his waist as he did so. Guess he wasn’t taking any chances I had higher expectations in men than he could meet.

“Sit over there.” I motioned toward a wingback chair with a reading lamp crouching near it.

He shuffled forward and sat. “Okay, you have the gun. What’s on your mind? Better make it fast. My men will be here soon. I hit the silent alarm when I rolled out of bed.”

I chuckled. “Glad you did. Your silent alarm will only find silence. I own your house and grounds. The guards lost interest and I neutralized the alarms. My people are all around your compound. Even if you had a connection to the police department, they won’t be answering.”

His confidence seemed to slip a bit, but bravado took its place. “You’re bluffing.”

“If that’s the best you can do, don’t ever play poker. You can’t tell the difference between truth and a bluff. How long would you like to wait?” I studied my watch. “Been almost five minutes since I popped the lock on the back door. Not a very efficient alarm system. Guess you bought the Blue Light Special.” I sat on the edge of his bed, my gun leveled on his chest. “I have lots of time.”

forty-eight

If Tomasco wanted to
believe his guards were rushing to his rescue, I was willing to allow it. The longer he waited, the more he’d sweat. I didn’t have all night so, at some point, I’d have to speed things up. “I have twenty-five after three. What say we wait ten minutes? Will that give your rescuers enough time?”

His face said his confidence level had dropped again. It looked like he was beginning to accept his predicament—maybe I wasn’t bluffing.

I stood and walked around the room. Someone had spent a lot of money furnishing it. The paintings were originals. Since I’m no connoisseur of the arts, I didn’t recognize any of the names, but I could see they were quality. The furniture appeared solid, no veneers for this man. And even someone as uneducated as I could recognize a Persian rug covered the center of the room. The best that money could buy was my guess.

“The import/export business must be doing okay for you,” I said. “Of course, when your imports are mostly high-dollar items smuggled in, it does enhance the profit margin, doesn’t it? No splits with Uncle Sam. Too bad about that attaché case filled with diamonds.”

That got his attention. “What do you mean? I run a legitimate business.”

“Sure you do. Just like the female who’s entertaining my cohort is in love with you and shares your bed because you’re such a wonderful, romantic lover. How much do you pay her? One of those things I’ve always wondered about. If things get tough in the PI business, I might be tempted to turn a few tricks—if the money’s right.”

“You’d never make it. Too flat.”

I looked at my chest. “Guess you can’t tell the difference between what Mother Nature gives a woman and what the medical profession supplies. Mine are natural C’s. That honey of yours is probably a natural A. The rest is silicone, a fancy name for sand. I’ve been told there’s a delicious difference in the taste, but I wouldn’t know. Seeing you here, you probably wouldn’t know either.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Tiffanie is here because she wants to be. Money is not the motivation.”

I stared, feeling a bit sorry for him. Apparently, he had all the money he could ever need, but had no one to share his life. To even the stupidest male, it must be demeaning to hand over money for sex. In Tomasco’s case, was it lack of trust or lack of anything other than cash to attract a woman? I wondered, then decided I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

I said, “Possible that she just drops in to share the mattress with you because she respects you so much, but somehow I doubt it. I’m thinking the only way you can get your rocks off is by hand or a prostitute. Tonight, you chose the latter.”

While sparring with him, I had continued my inspection of his bedroom. I tried not to show it, but I was impressed. Someone had good taste and the money to indulge it.

I checked my watch. “Okay, time’s up. Haven’t seen any white knights charging through the door. Guess you were wrong about your
boys
riding to the rescue. Any other tricks in your little box—or that you think you have? “

“What do you want? Money? Name your price.”

“No. I’m not interested in money. Here’s the deal—simple and straightforward.” I leaned against the dresser. “I walked in tonight like I own the place. That’s because I do own this place. I have as much run of your house as you do. Your gate didn’t stop me. Your alarms didn’t stop me. Your piddling guards were no challenge for me. Hell, even your bimbo didn’t put up a fight. I could blow you away and stage it any way I want. Ever consider suicide? It could happen, then I walk out of here, and no one would ever know. Do you agree?”

He glared at me, then nodded. “Get on with it.”

“You threatened my mother. You threatened a friend of mine. You threatened me. You also had your people invade my house and humiliate me. You dragged me here and put me through your dog and pony show in your little room with the big speakers. Remember all that?”

His complexion had gone a bit green. “What do you want?”

“Simply this. I can enter your house and your bedroom any time I choose. You can’t erect enough barricades to stop me. You can’t hire enough guards to intimidate me. I can get to you no matter where you are. Understand that. Accept that.” I grinned. “But don’t let it interrupt your sleep. I’d hate for that to happen.”

I hesitated, giving him a chance to smile. He didn’t, so I dug the tines in deeper. “Tonight, I only brought a pistol with me. If you bother me again, if you bother my mother again, if you bother my friends again, I will be back. And next time, I’ll bring a scalpel. You know I can get one from my doctor friend. Whenever that night is, you’ll hope you got laid because it will have been your last. I’ll neuter you like a puppy.”

I paused to allow my words to sink in while keeping my pistol pointed at his head. I wanted him to absorb the full impact of what I said. Also, staring down the barrel of my Beretta would soften him. I’ve seen pistols from the business end, and no one can walk away without an appreciation of how big and ominous they look. It appeared to work with Tomasco. I could see his eyes enlarging with each tick of the clock.

After an appropriate number of seconds passed, I said, “Do you understand? Are we clear on what will happen if you
ever
bother me or mine again?”

His eyes stayed locked on my pistol, but his head went up and down.

I accepted that as agreement but took a step in his direction so he could better examine the inside of the barrel. I wanted it to be the first thing he envisioned every morning. After giving him time to memorize the rifling, I walked to the door. “Dot. You and the bimbo can come in now.”

Tiffanie led the way in with Dot behind her. Tiffanie had wrapped herself in a sheet, leading me to believe they’d been in an adjoining bedroom.

“You. Get into the bed,” I said to the woman. “Pull the covers over your head and don’t let them down—ever. Dot, keep Tomasco covered.” I handed the Beretta to her. “Try not to shoot him unless he wiggles or breathes too deeply. Give me your pistol.”

As the woman crawled into bed and followed instructions, I took the .32 and walked into the hallway. Once out of Tomasco’s view, I flipped the cylinder open and extracted the five shells. Then I reentered the room.

“Pull the sheet back,” I said to him.

“What? Are you—”

“Pull it back,” I said pointing the .32 at him and thumbing the hammer. “Don’t take a chance with me. I could be having PMS. You don’t want to test me.”

With quivering hands, he uncovered his lap, revealing his bare crotch.

“I’ve seen a lot better,” I said, chuckling. I addressed the lump on the bed. “How about you, sweetheart? Or does your business cater to the size-challenged?”

No response, just a shaking of the sheet. Either she was laughing at how funny I was or quaking with fear. Didn’t matter which.

Dot cackled. “Size-challenged. That’s a good’un. You good, deary, you good.”