Motor Mouth (Alex Barnaby 2)

My stomach was clenched into a painful knot. “I’m sure.”

We trailed behind Horse and Baldy and watched them get into a black BMW. Hooker grabbed a cab and told the driver to follow the Beemer. It wasn’t a long drive. Horse and Baldy parked in the lot at the marina.

“Wow, big surprise,” Hooker said.

It was too early for the tiki bar at Monty’s, so we sat on one of the benches that lined the marina walkway. Horse and Baldy approached the Huevo gangplank and were waved onboard. They went straight to the first-deck salon and disappeared.

We hadn’t been prepared to leave the hotel. No hats. No sunglasses. No binoculars. After a half hour, Hooker was fidgeting.

“I hate sitting around like this,” Hooker said. “It’s boring.”

“I agree. Let’s take turns. I’ll take the first watch, and you can go back to the hotel and get our stuff. We need a car, anyway, in case we want to follow somebody. Maybe one of these guys is the Beans snatcher.”

The sun was just beginning to warm Miami. The water in the marina was as smooth as glass. The air was still. No breeze to rustle palm fronds. The boats were leisurely coming to life. The morning aroma of coffee brewing in galleys mingled with the sharper scent of ocean brine.

I watched Hooker head for the parking lot, and I stretched on the bench and thought this would all be incredibly nice…if only Beans was here. And if only I wasn’t being hunted down by a sadistic maniac with an oversized johnson. It seemed to me that Ray Huevo would get over the loss of his cars. He was bent over about it now, but he had a lot on his mind and a business to run, and I suspected if we just weathered this, we’d be off the hook in a day or two. Ray Huevo had never before cared about the car side of the business. And God knows, Huevo could afford to build two more cars. Even if he had illegal technology on the 69, he should be realizing he wasn’t going to get busted on it.

You would think a more worrisome issue would be Oscar Huevo packaged up and rammed into a storage locker. Someone out there knew the body was discovered and moved. If that person was inner circle to Ray Huevo, he knew Hooker was the one who moved the body. But then, maybe the murderer wasn’t inner circle.

A man and a woman in brilliant white uniforms trimmed with blue were moving around on the second deck, setting up for breakfast. Two women strolled out, the world seemingly a better place for their perfect blondness. They were wearing floaty caftan-type things that are worn only by the very fat and the very onboard-ship. They were followed by four men in casual shirts and slacks. The men were power breakfasting. Spanky and Delores followed the power breakfasters. Good thing my stomach was full of pancakes or I might be feeling left out.

Everyone milled around for a few minutes until Ray Huevo appeared. He took his seat and everyone followed his lead. Horse and Baldy weren’t among the invited breakfast guests.

Halfway through breakfast, Spanky glanced my way, and I could see recognition register. He leaned left to catch Ray Huevo’s attention and words were exchanged. Huevo looked in my direction, and I felt the roots of my hair get hot. The meeting of eyes was brief. Huevo barely acknowledged me, immediately dismissing my presence, returning to his role of genial host, eating his omelet, smiling at the blonde at his side.

The white-uniformed waiters poured more coffee and juice. The chef served crepes from a rolling cart. The sun climbed higher in the sky. The breakfast felt endless.

I called Hooker. “Where the heck are you?”

“I’m at Felicia’s. I went back to get our things. I think we’re better off staying in South Beach.”

“What about Gobbles? What’s Gobbles doing?”

“Gobbles is watching television. I told him to stay with Felicia.”

“I’m dying here. I need my iPod. I need sunglasses and sunscreen.”

“I hear you,” Hooker said. And he hung up.

I blew out a sigh and slouched a little lower on the bench.

Baldy appeared on deck and my breath caught in my chest. Baldy bent to speak to Huevo. He was nodding his head. Yes, yes, yes. He looked my way. Damn.

Huevo returned his attention to his breakfast party and Baldy left the boat and walked toward me. He stopped when he got to my bench.

“Miss Barnaby?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Huevo would like me to take you to breakfast.”

“Thanks, but I’ve already had breakfast.”

“Then I’ll escort you to your car.”

“I don’t have a car.”

He shifted foot to foot. I was being difficult.