Metro Girl (Alex Barnaby 1)

“Let me guess. You’ve got NASCAR ‘boys.’”

“You betcha.”

Todd stopped jumping around, and we all pulled ourselves together.

“There were some people on board Flex for lunch today,” I said to Todd. “One of them was a state senator.”

“Bulger. He’s around a lot. Doesn’t usually sail with us. Just comes to socialize. He pals around with Luis Salzar. Salzar was probably there, too.”

We were back at the beach towel, and Todd stood air-drying his legs before reapplying oil.

“Is Salzar a chunky guy with a lot of silver gray hair? Looks like a professional killer?” I asked him.

“Yeah. That’s Salzar. I hate when he’s on board. The ship always gets locked down.”

“Locked down?”

“The main deck is off limits to everyone but Salzar’s personal crew. He’s got his own steward, two bodyguards, and two-man helicopter crew. Plus the captain and the purser are company men, so they have access. And sometimes Salzar brings one or two members of his family. And I don’t necessarily mean relatives when I say family. It’s like cruising with Al Capone. Always lots of guns. Conversations that stop when a nonfamily member enters a room. It’s pretty darn creepy.”

“Salzar’s a Cuban businessman,” Judey said to Hooker and me. “Got his finger in a lot of pies. He lives in Miami, but the rumors go that he’s mucho friendly with Fidel.”

“Yeah,” Todd said. “We fly Salzar to Cuba on poker night.”

We all looked at Todd.

“Not really for poker night,” Todd said. “That’s just the joke on the boat. When Salzar sails with us we tie up at Shell Island Resort in the Bahamas. And in the dark of night, the helicopter mysteriously takes off and returns with the first light of dawn the following morning.”

“You think it takes Salzar to Cuba? Isn’t that illegal?” I asked.

Todd shrugged. “Lots of people go to Cuba these days. Not Americans, but everyone else.”

“I thought we monitored flights.”

“We monitor for drug flights and boat people. Anyway, I imagine a helicopter could go in low, under radar. This is all just conjecture, anyway. Like I said, the second deck is off limits when Salzar’s in residence. Junior crew members, like me, don’t have access to flight plans. In fact, sometimes we’re not even sure where we are. If you want to keep your job on this boat, you do a lot of smiling, you don’t ask questions, and you don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“That doesn’t sound like Bill,” I said.

Todd grinned. “No. Bill wasn’t a total fit. Bill was like Brian. Into everything, tail wagging, kicking up sand.”

“Was Salzar on the last trip?”

“Salzar hasn’t sailed with us for a while. Maybe two or three weeks. I’d say on an average he goes out once a month. Sometimes his crew goes out without him. Sometimes the second deck gets locked down for just the Salzar people.” Todd turned to Hooker. “You’re a couple slips down from Flex, right? The name of your boat is Happy Hooker?”

“Yeah, the boat disappeared with Wild Bill.”

“That’s a good-size boat. Bill would have a hard time taking it in and out by himself.”

“We think he had a girl with him,” Hooker said. “You have any idea who it might be?”

“I co

uld probably narrow it down to two or three hundred women.”

“No one special?” I asked.

“They were all special,” Todd said. “Last I talked to Bill, he was going clubbing. He probably brought someone home with him.”

“Someone who could handle a boat,” Hooker said.