Ticktock (25 page)

All along the recently slumbering waterfront, lights began to blink on in the closely spaced houses.

Scootie hesitated at the gap in the pulpit railing, but only briefly, then leaped down onto the concrete sward on the island side of the sea wall.

Del and Tommy followed him. From the pulpit to the sidewalk was about a ten-foot drop.

The dog sprinted west along the promenade, as if he knew where he was going.

Del followed the Labrador, and Tommy followed Del. He glanced back once and, in spite of all the outrageous incidents of the night, which should have inured him to spectacle, he was awestruck at the sight of the enormous boat balanced on the sea wall, overhanging the public walkway, as if it were the Ark washed ashore after the Great Flood.

As worried faces began to appear at upstairs windows but before any front doors flew open, before frightened voices rose in the night, Tommy and Del and the dog found the nearest street leading away from the promenade. They headed toward the center of the island.

Although Tommy looked over his shoulder from time to time, expecting a serpent-eyed fat man or worse, no creature swaddled in fire pursued them.

SEVEN

Hundreds of houses crowded the small lots on Balboa Island, and because of inadequate garage space, both sides of the narrow streets were lined with the parked cars of residents and visitors. Shopping for a set of wheels to steal, Del had a daunting variety of choices. Rather than settle for a Buick or Toyota, however, she was attracted to a fire-engine-red Ferrari Testarossa.

They stood under the cloaking boughs of an old podocarpus while she admired the sports car.

“Why not that Geo?” Tommy asked, pointing to the vehicle parked in front of the Ferrari.

“The Geo's okay, but it's not cool. The Ferrari is cool.”

“It costs as much as a house,” Tommy objected.

“We're not buying it.”

“I'm acutely aware of what we're doing.”

“We're just borrowing it.”

“We're stealing it,” he corrected.

“No. Bad guys steal stuff. We're not bad guys. We're the good guys. Ergo, we can't be stealing it.”

“Actually, that's a defense that might work with a California jury,” he said sourly.

“You keep a lookout while I see if it's unlocked.”

“Why not destroy a cheaper car?” he argued.

“Who said anything about destroying it?”

“You're hard on machinery,” he reminded her.

From the far end of the island came the sirens of fire engines. Above the silhouettes of the tightly packed houses, the night sky to the south was brightened by the glow of the burning yacht.

“Keep a lookout,” she repeated.

The street was deserted.

With Scootie, she stepped off the sidewalk and went boldly to the driver's side of the Ferrari. She tried the door, and it was unlocked.

“Surprise, surprise,” Tommy muttered.

Scootie entered the car ahead of her.

The Ferrari started even as Del settled behind the wheel and pulled the driver's door shut. The engine sounded powerful enough to ensure that the car would be airborne if Del decided that she wanted it to fly.

“Two seconds flat. A true master criminal,” Tommy murmured to himself as he went to the car and opened the other door.

“Scootie is willing to share the passenger seat.”

“He's a sweetheart,” Tommy said.

After the dog leaped out into the rain, Tommy climbed into the low-slung car. He resisted the temptation to close the door before the mutt could reenter.

Scootie sat with his rump in Tommy's lap, his hind legs on the seat, and his forepaws on the dashboard.

“Put your arms around him,” Del said as she switched on the headlights.

“What?”

“So he doesn't go through the windshield if we stop suddenly.”

“I thought you weren't going to destroy the car?”

“You never know when you might have to stop suddenly.”

Tommy put his arms around the Labrador. “Where are we going?”

“Mom's house,” Del said.

“How far is that?”

“Fifteen minutes tops. Maybe ten in this baby.”

Scootie turned his head, made eye contact, licked Tommy from chin to forehead, and then faced forward again.

“It's going to be a long drive,” Tommy said.

“He's decided he likes you.”

“I'm flattered.”

“You should be. He doesn't lick just anyone.”

Scootie chuffed as if to confirm that statement.

As Del pulled the Ferrari away from the curb and into the street, she said, “We'll leave this crate at Mom's place, and she can have it brought back here. We'll borrow one of her cars for the rest of the night.”

“You've got an understanding mother.”

“She's a peach.”

“How'd you get the car started so quickly?” he asked.

“The keys were in it.”

With the big dog in his lap, Tommy couldn't see much of the street ahead of them, but he certainly could see the ignition, in which no key was inserted.

“Where are they now?” he asked.

“Where are what?”

“The keys?”

“What keys?”

“The ones you started the car with.”

“I hot-wired it,” she said, grinning.

“It started while you were pulling your door shut.”

“I can hot-wire one-handed.”

“In two seconds flat?”

“Cool, huh?”

She turned left onto a divided street that led to Marine Avenue, the island's main drag.

“We're so soaked, we're ruining the upholstery,” he worried.

“I'll send the owner a check.”

“I'm serious. This is expensive upholstery.”

“I'm serious too. I'll send him a check. You're such a
nice
man, Tommy. Such a straight arrow. I like that about you.”

Emergency beacons flashing, a police car turned the corner ahead and passed them, no doubt heading toward the burning boat.

“What do you think it cost?” Tommy asked.

“A thousand bucks ought to cover it.”

“For an entire yacht?”

“I thought you meant the upholstery damage. The Bluewater cost about seven hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Those poor people.”

“What people?”

“The poor people whose boat you trashed. Are you going to write them a check too?”

“Don't have to. It's my boat.”

He gaped at her. Since encountering Deliverance Payne, staring agape had become his most-used expression.

As she stopped at the Marine Avenue intersection, she smiled at him and said, “Only owned it since July.”

He managed to rehinge his jaw to ask, “If it's your boat, why wasn't it docked at your house?”

“It's so big it blocks my view. So I rent that slip where it was tied up.”

Scootie thumped one paw repeatedly against the dashboard, as though expressing his impatience to get moving.

Tommy said, “So you blew up your own boat.”

Turning left on Marine Avenue, which was the commercial center of the island, Del said, “Didn't blow it up. You have a tendency to exaggeration, Tommy. I hope your detective novels aren't full of hyperbole.”

“Okay, you set it on fire.”

“Big difference, I think. Blow up, set on fire—there's a big difference.”

“At this rate, even
your
inheritance won't last long.”

“Oh, you're such a goof, Tommy. I don't set yachts on fire every day, you know.”

“I wonder.”

“Besides, I'll never have money worries.”

“You're a counterfeiter too?”

“No, silly. Daddy taught me to play poker, and I'm even better than he was.”

“Do you cheat?”

“Never! Cards are sacred.”

“I'm glad to hear you think
something'
s sacred.”

“I think a lot of things are sacred,” she said.

“Like the truth?”

With a coy look, she said, “Sometimes.”

They were reaching the end of Marine Avenue. The bridge across the back channel to the mainland lay less than a block ahead.

He said, “Truth—how did you start this car?”

“Didn't I say? The keys were in the ignition.”

“That's one of the things you said. How did you start the fire on the boat?”

“Wasn't me. Was Mrs. O'Leary's cow, kicked over a lantern.”

Scootie made a weird chuffing, wheezing sound. Tommy could have sworn it was doggy laughter.

Another police cruiser appeared on the arched bridge ahead of them, entering the island from the mainland.

“Truth—where did the birds come from?” Tommy asked.

“Well, it's the eternal mystery, isn't it: Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

The oncoming patrol car stopped at the foot of the bridge and flashed its headlights at them.

“Thinks we might be bad guys,” Del said.

“Oh, no.”

“Relax.”

Del stopped beside the cruiser.

Tommy said, “Don't turn him into a cat or a crow or something.”

“I was thinking—a goose.”

The electric window purred down.

The cop had already lowered his window. He sounded surprised when he said, “Del?”

“Hi, Marty!”

“I didn't realize it was you,” the cop said, smiling at her from behind the wheel of his cruiser. “New car?”

“You like it?”

“A real beauty. Yours or your mom's?”

“You know Mom.”

“Don't
you
go breaking any speed limits.”

“If I do, will you personally paddle me?”

Marty, the cop, laughed. “I'd be delighted.”

“What's all the hubbub?” Del asked innocently.

“You won't believe this. Some fool rammed a big damn boat high speed into the sea wall.”

“Must've been having a great party on board. Why do I never get invited to the great parties?”

Apparently uninterested in Tommy, Marty said, “Hi, Scootie.”

Craning his burly head to look past Del, out the side window, the Labrador grinned, tongue lolling.

To Del, Marty said, “Tell your mom we'll be watching for her in that car.”

“You might not see her,” Del said, “but you'll sure hear the sonic boom.”

Laughing, Marty drove away, and Del continued onto the bridge, over the back channel, to the mainland.

Tommy said, “What happens when he discovers the yacht on the sea wall is yours?”

“He won't know. It's not in my name. It's registered to our offshore corporation.”

“Offshore corporation? How far off? Mars?”

“Grand Cayman, in the Caribbean.”

“What happens when this car is reported stolen?”

“It won't be. Mom'll have it brought back before it's missed.”

“Scootie smells.”

“It's only his wet coat.”

“It better be,” Tommy said. “Truth—was it just chance that you happened to be driving by that vacant lot when I rolled the Corvette, or did you know I was going to be there?”

“Of course I didn't know. Like I said, though, we're clearly each other's destiny.”

“God, you're infuriating!” Tommy said.

“You don't mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Poor confused Tommy.”

“Infuriating.”

“Actually, you mean to say
interesting.
”

“Infuriating.”

“Interesting. In fact, you're
enthralled
with me.”

He sighed.

“Aren't you?” she teased. “Enthralled.”

He sighed again.

“Aren't you?” she insisted.

“Yes.”

“You're so sweet,” she said. “Such a sweet man.”

“Want me to shoot you?”

“Not yet. Wait till I'm dying.”

“That's not going to be easy.”

         

Del's mother lived in a private guard-gated community on a hill overlooking Newport Beach. The guardhouse was finished in mottled-pastel stucco with cast-stone wainscot and cast-stone quoins at the corners, and it stood under several enormous, theatrically lighted phoenix palms.

Because no resident sticker adorned the Ferrari windshield, the young guard had to open the gatehouse door and lean out to ask whom Del was visiting. He was slack-faced and sleepy-eyed when he first appeared, but the moment he saw her, his face tightened and his eyes brightened.

“Miss Payne!”

“Hi, Mickey.”

“New car?”

She said, “Maybe. We're test-driving it.”

The guard came out of the gatehouse, into the rain, and stooped beside Del's open window to be at her level. “Quite a machine.”

“My mom could make it go to the moon.”

“If she had this,” the guard said, “the community would have to put in speed bumps the size of garbage Dumpsters to slow her down.”

“How's Emmy?”

Although Mickey was not wearing a raincoat, he seemed to be oblivious to the downpour, as though Del so completely commanded his awareness that he simply didn't have the capacity also to notice the inclement weather—or anything else, for that matter. Tommy knew exactly how the poor guy felt.

“Emmy's great,” Mickey said. “She's in total remission.”

“That's wonderful, Mickey.”

“The doctors can't believe it.”

“I told you not to lose hope, didn't I?”

“If the tests keep coming back as clear as they do now, they'll probably release her from the hospital in about three days. I just pray to God she'll never…never have to…go back.”

“She'll be fine, Mickey.”

“It's so nice of you to go visit her the way you do.”

“Oh, I adore her, Mickey. She's an absolute angel. It's no trouble at all.”

“She thinks the world of you, Miss Payne. She sure loved that storybook you brought her.” Looking past Del, he said, “Hi, Scootie.”

The Labrador chuffed.

Del said, “Mickey, this is my friend, Tommy Tofu.”