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

shooting someone in Key West.
    But no one came after them as the Yari jumped forward, headlights capturing the hulls of dry-docked fishing boats, a section of chain link fence, and then open gates and a strip of roadway.
    “How did you get here?” he demanded, cradling the Glock in his lap.
    Cailie kept her eyes on the road. “Let’s say I’m your guardian angel.”
    “Are you really a St. Louis cop?”
    “If you don’t mind my saying so, Tree, between throwing up on boats and getting kicked around by Key West thugs, I’d say you need help.” She glanced at him and grinned. “You need another operative at the Sanibel Sunset Detective Agency.
    “I wouldn’t know what name to put on the employment form.”
    “We’re both rather mysterious, I suppose. You don’t know who I am. I don’t know what you’re up to in Key West that attracts the attention of gun-toting goons anxious to cut your hand off.”
    “Cailie or whatever you call yourself—”
    “Call me Cailie. I don’t want to make things too difficult for you.”
    “Look, I appreciate what you did for me back there. I’m not sure why, but you saved my hide. Now if you could just drop me off, I would appreciate that, too.”
    “Every time I think it might be possible that you’re capable of dealing with the world you seem to involve yourself in, you reassure me you’re not.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “Meaning if I put you back on the street, what are you going to do? Chances are your pals back there are just going to find you again. And believe me, after what just went down, they will want to find you. This time they may do a lot worse than cut off your hand.”
    Tree had no choice but to see her logic. “What are you suggesting?”
    “Go where they won’t find you.”
    “Where is that?”
    “With me.”
    “Not a snowball’s chance in hell,” Tree said.
    “What choice do you have? Besides, we’re the only two people in the world who are going to know anything about this.”
    “You’re already making it sound as though we’re up to no good.”
    She gave a snort of laughter. “You’ve just been kidnapped and beaten. I may have shot someone in a dark warehouse. And now we’re up to no good? It’s a little late to be worrying about that.”
    He heaved a sigh. “Where are you staying?”
    “Not far away. The Casa Marina.”
    “What we will do,” Tree said. “We’ll go over there and see if I can get a room for the night.”
    “If that’s the way you want it, Tree, fine.”
    _______
    The hotel was full.
    The desk clerk was so sorry, but everything was booked up. Tree was certain the clerk looked at him as if he was crazy not to stay with the lovely blonde beside him. Tree had to stop himself from blurting that he was a happily married man, and spending the night with this beautiful woman was the last thing in the world he wanted.
    He had no choice but to follow Cailie through the long lobby, past the conventioneers crowding the bar area, everyone watching them, he was certain.
    By the time they reached her room, he was dead tired. Kidnapping and threats tended to exhaust a detective—at least a detective of a certain age. The room, impersonal in shades of beige and ivory, was cast in a table lamp’s burnished glow, illuminating the king-size bed turned down for the night.
    “You said there were two beds,” Tree said.
    “I was mistaken,” she said, tossing the key card onto the table and unslinging the large shoulder bag she had carried from the car, dropping it to the bed.
    “I’ll take the sofa,” he said.
    She laughed. “This is right out of a bad movie. Come on, Tree. You’re bigger and older. You take the bed. I’ll fit nicely onto the sofa. Are you hungry? Do you want anything to drink?”
    “I’m fine,” he said.
    “Do you want to tell me why those characters were after you?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    She grinned and said, “Well, if I’m going to become another Sanibel Sunset detective in your