Motor Mouth

remorse for anything.”
    “Maybe he needs to get fitted with cement shoes and go for a swim,” Rosa said.
    “First thing, we need to find a way to get Hooker and not give up the circuit board,” I said. “Then we’ll worry about Ray.”
    “We could
force
them to give us Hooker,” Felicia said. “Just go in there and shoot ’em up.”
    “How many men are with Hooker?” Suzanne asked.
    “Miranda and two others, for sure,” I said. “Rodriguez and Lucca have disappeared. They could be with Miranda, but most likely they’re playing poker with Oscar.”
    “We could take them,” Rosa said. “Four against three.”
    “I’m game,” Suzanne said.
    This was a ridiculous idea that scared the bejeezus out of me. It wasn’t as if we were army rangers or something. We were a former Vegas showgirl, a cigar roller, a grandmother who sold fruit, and a mechanic who wasn’t any good with guns.
    “Any other ideas?” I asked.
    Silence. No other ideas.
    “Gee, it sounds like a good plan,” I said, “but we can’t do it because we don’t know where they are.” Thank God.
    “I’ve got that covered,” Suzanne said. “We let Ray lead us to them. Three of us leave and one stays behind to guard Ray. The one who stays behind opens the door to see if Ray’s okay, and then she feels sorry for him, so she opens the handcuffs so he can have some stone crabs. And she lets Ray escape. Then we just follow Ray.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “It sounds dangerous for the one who stays behind.” In fact, it sounded
nuts
!
    “Piece of cake,” Felicia said. “I could do it. Look at me. I’m a grandma. He’ll believe I would let him go. But you have to promise to come get me before you bust in on the bad guys. I don’t want to miss anything.”
    Who
was
this woman? Did she moonlight as the Terminator?
     
    Rosa was at the wheel of the Camry, Suzanne was riding shotgun beside her, and I was in the backseat with Beans. We were across the street from the condo building, waiting to get the call from Felicia telling us Ray had escaped. Felicia had now been alone with Ray for almost twenty minutes, and I was mentally cracking my knuckles, worried something had gone wrong.
    The call came through just as Ray bolted through the front door and hailed a cab.
    “Felicia says it worked perfect,” Rosa said, following Ray’s cab. “She said it took so long because he locked her in the bathroom. And then she thinks he ate some stone crabs. And she said he took her cell phone and he better not be making any calls to Mexico.”
    The cab went south on Collins, and we all knew the destination. Ray was going to the boat. He didn’t know about the fire. He didn’t know the boat had sailed. He wasn’t sure if Rodriguez and Lucca were at large. He was probably calling them on Felicia’s cell phone from the cab, not happy because they weren’t answering. Hell, what do I know, maybe they
were
answering. Maybe they were with Hooker, or maybe they were hiding out in Orlando with Mickey Mouse.
    The cab pulled into the lot and dropped Ray off. Rosa idled on the street, and I ran through the courtyard attached to Monty’s so I could spy on Ray when he stepped onto the marina footpath.
    I slipped into place, to the side of the building, just as Ray emerged from the lot and stood, staring at the empty space on the dock. He made a hand gesture that shouted
where the fuck did the boat go
? And he was back on his phone. Angry. Punching numbers in. Talking to someone. He had his hand on his hip, head down, trying not to go entirely gonzo with the person on the other end. He picked his head up and looked around. Not in my direction. Too pissed off to see anything anyway. He paced up and down the walkway, talking. He disconnected and punched in another number. The conversation was much calmer this time, but I could see the rage simmering below the surface. Not talking to an underling, I thought. Maybe talking to Miranda. At least that was my hope, because now that we were committed to a plan, I wanted to get on with it.
    It was early afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky. Slight breeze coming in off the ocean, ruffling the water and rustling in the palms. Cool enough to wear jeans but warm enough to wear a short-sleeved shirt. In other words, the weather was perfect. And Florida would have been paradise if only I wasn’t wanted for questioning in multiple murders and if only Hooker wasn’t being held hostage, and if only Beans didn’t