Ron Base - Tree Callister 03 - Another Sanibel Sunset Detective by Ron Base

and the devil woman herself, Elizabeth Traven. So I am going to give you one more chance to give me the answer I am looking for before I cut your hand off.”
    Amazing how little control he had over his body, Tree thought. As much as he fought against the pressure on his arm, he understood how totally powerless he was to do anything about it. “No,” he shouted, as if that would do the least bit of good.
    Edgar’s arm rose, the machete in his fist, the blade gleaming in the light. Tree closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to stifle the sobs bursting out of him, terrible sounds he could not control.
    And then another voice said, “That’s enough.”
    Tree blinked hard and squinted against the uncertain light. He couldn’t see anything.
    The voice reiterated, “Let him go, or I start shooting people.”
    Edgar very calmly said, “Who will you shoot first?”
    “You, with the machete. The guy overdressed for the occasion. I’ll shoot you first.”
    “It is called a cutlass,” Edgar said.
    “Who cares? Let him go.”
    The strong, binding hands slowly released him.
    “Move into the light where I can see the three of you,” the voice said. “Do it.”
    Edgar and his pals shuffled ahead so that the light struck them full on. Tree noticed that Pork Pie Hat had lost his hat. Edgar’s face in the uncertain light was hard to read, and that made him even more dangerous in Tree’s estimation.
    “Tree,” the voice said. “Come over here.”
    “Where are you?” Tree said.
    “Just come toward me.”
    Tree wasn’t quite sure his legs would support him. But as he wobbled forward, they held. He could see a shadow forming itself into a woman holding a gun with both hands. She moved as he came toward her and even in the hard light, Cailie Fisk’s face held its angular beauty. Or was it Susan Troy’s angular beauty? No matter. Whatever she called herself, she seemed to know how to handle a gun, and right now that’s all that counted.
    Edgar, still holding the machete, spoke calmly, as if to test the changed climate. “I think you won’t shoot anyone.”
    “Is that what you think?” Cailie said. “That’s fine. I’m a former St. Louis police officer. I’ve shot three people in the line of duty and to be frank, they deserved it a lot less than you morons. So do something stupid, and let’s find out if I’m willing to pull the trigger.”
    No one moved except Tree who reached Cailie’s side. Was that a Glock pistol she held so steadily?
    “Tree,” she said, “start moving toward the exit.”
    The order was promptly followed by a loud crash—the lamp hitting the floor.
    The world plunged into darkness.

16
    A hollow bang echoed through the darkness. It took Tree a moment to register that the sound came from a gun. A screamed curse was followed by the sound of scrambling feet. Coming toward him or running away? Tree could not tell which.
    He called out Cailie’s name. No reply. Maybe he got her name wrong. Maybe Susan no longer responded to Cailie.
    Hands propelled him forward. He lunged through the black void he found himself in, feeling curiously claustrophobic, as though entombed in darkness.
    Presently, a spot in the distance appeared, the blackness broken by a rectangle of gray. Tree plunged through it—diving into the rabbit hole. He found himself outside suddenly, the sketchy outlines of fishing trawlers, a tangle of masts draped in moonlight. Cailie was right behind him.
    “Keep moving,” she said in a breathless voice.
    “Who did you shoot?”
    “It was dark. I’m not sure I shot anyone. I’ve got a car over by the wharf.”
    The car was a gunmetal gray Yari hatchback. He squeezed into the passenger seat while she got behind the wheel. “Here,” she said, handing him her gun. “Hold this.”
    He took the Glock while she started up the car. He worried that Edgar and his men would come charging and he would be forced to open fire. That’s all he needed, dealing with the fallout from