too.”
“Oh yeah? So, if you worked near the ocean, then how did my father happen to be in the mountains when he was killed in a mortar attack? You said it didn’t happen too far from camp. You remember saying that?”
Smart woman. Not looking around at the boats now; was looking right at me, showing me with her expression that she wasn’t a child and she wasn’t a fool. Not angry, but stony; chilly and a little judgmental.
I said, “Not all mountains are inland. Some rise out of the sea.”
“And that’s where you’re saying your camp was.”
I thought about it a moment before I replied. “I guess if you were applying the thirty-second rule I’d be in big trouble, huh?”
“Unless you come up with something convincing in the next five or ten seconds. But yeah, it would have to happen pretty quick.”
“What I told you … it’s true, like I said. Factual, anyway. But it’s not entirely honest.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Fact only requires accuracy. Honesty requires disclosure.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Except the part about the Studies and Observations Group. And your eyes. The way you looked in that photograph, very wise for a little girl. I really did like your eyes. And they weren’t crossed, just off center.”
She said, “Uh-huh, a thing of beauty,” her tone saying once again: bullshit.
Her little white Honda Civic was parked in the feather-duster shade of a coconut palm. She said it got great mileage and had a decent sound system.
Two necessities of Generation X: music and considerations of mobility.
As I escorted her across the dusty parking lot, I told her to give me a few days; time to check with some people, think it over, maybe come up with a simple and productive course of action.
“What we might have to do is hop on a plane, fly to Cartagena and have a look around,” I said, “but let’s hope I can fit a few pieces together and narrow down the options.”
My saying it—we may have to fly to Cartagena—seemed to make the prospect real, and I could tell that it set her back a little. “Colombia,” she said, her tone a little less vivid. “That’s like one of the drug countries, right? Do you know anything about the place?”
“Some,” I said. “A little.”
The less she knew about my years in Central and South America, the better.
Something else I told her to keep in mind was, If we did find her mom, and if Gail still refused to leave Merlot, there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.
“I know, I know,” she replied. “All I want is a chance to get her alone and talk some sense into her. If we go, I can cover our expenses. I’ve got some money in savings and there’re some bonds I can cash in. Plus, Frank’s offered to kick in if things get expensive. The big spender, he’s so damn worried.
Right.
“She let that settle before she added, “The point being, I’m not asking you to pay your own way.”
I told Amanda that her offer was premature. What I didn’t tell her was that, if we could find Merlot’s sailboat, I didn’t think I’d have much trouble prying her mother free. Not if it seemed like the right thing to do.
Probably wouldn’t have to do much more than scare Merlot a little. Get the guy off alone for an hour or so, tell him some tough-guy story about Gail having family ties to the mob. Or maybe say she had ties to some drug cartel; that would make more sense. And how she doesn’t evenknow it, but she’s under the personal protection of some honcho with an Italian or Latino name. Watch the guy, Merlot, turn white and start shaking, then sit back and wait while he raced off to tell Gail to leave him alone, get the hell out of his life forever. Sneaky predatory types are also usually very predictable cowards.
The problem was, finding a lone sailboat with all that coastline, all that water.
But I didn’t go into any of that. Instead, I gave the girl a job to do. I asked her to visit her mother’s
“Oh yeah? So, if you worked near the ocean, then how did my father happen to be in the mountains when he was killed in a mortar attack? You said it didn’t happen too far from camp. You remember saying that?”
Smart woman. Not looking around at the boats now; was looking right at me, showing me with her expression that she wasn’t a child and she wasn’t a fool. Not angry, but stony; chilly and a little judgmental.
I said, “Not all mountains are inland. Some rise out of the sea.”
“And that’s where you’re saying your camp was.”
I thought about it a moment before I replied. “I guess if you were applying the thirty-second rule I’d be in big trouble, huh?”
“Unless you come up with something convincing in the next five or ten seconds. But yeah, it would have to happen pretty quick.”
“What I told you … it’s true, like I said. Factual, anyway. But it’s not entirely honest.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Fact only requires accuracy. Honesty requires disclosure.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Except the part about the Studies and Observations Group. And your eyes. The way you looked in that photograph, very wise for a little girl. I really did like your eyes. And they weren’t crossed, just off center.”
She said, “Uh-huh, a thing of beauty,” her tone saying once again: bullshit.
Her little white Honda Civic was parked in the feather-duster shade of a coconut palm. She said it got great mileage and had a decent sound system.
Two necessities of Generation X: music and considerations of mobility.
As I escorted her across the dusty parking lot, I told her to give me a few days; time to check with some people, think it over, maybe come up with a simple and productive course of action.
“What we might have to do is hop on a plane, fly to Cartagena and have a look around,” I said, “but let’s hope I can fit a few pieces together and narrow down the options.”
My saying it—we may have to fly to Cartagena—seemed to make the prospect real, and I could tell that it set her back a little. “Colombia,” she said, her tone a little less vivid. “That’s like one of the drug countries, right? Do you know anything about the place?”
“Some,” I said. “A little.”
The less she knew about my years in Central and South America, the better.
Something else I told her to keep in mind was, If we did find her mom, and if Gail still refused to leave Merlot, there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.
“I know, I know,” she replied. “All I want is a chance to get her alone and talk some sense into her. If we go, I can cover our expenses. I’ve got some money in savings and there’re some bonds I can cash in. Plus, Frank’s offered to kick in if things get expensive. The big spender, he’s so damn worried.
Right.
“She let that settle before she added, “The point being, I’m not asking you to pay your own way.”
I told Amanda that her offer was premature. What I didn’t tell her was that, if we could find Merlot’s sailboat, I didn’t think I’d have much trouble prying her mother free. Not if it seemed like the right thing to do.
Probably wouldn’t have to do much more than scare Merlot a little. Get the guy off alone for an hour or so, tell him some tough-guy story about Gail having family ties to the mob. Or maybe say she had ties to some drug cartel; that would make more sense. And how she doesn’t evenknow it, but she’s under the personal protection of some honcho with an Italian or Latino name. Watch the guy, Merlot, turn white and start shaking, then sit back and wait while he raced off to tell Gail to leave him alone, get the hell out of his life forever. Sneaky predatory types are also usually very predictable cowards.
The problem was, finding a lone sailboat with all that coastline, all that water.
But I didn’t go into any of that. Instead, I gave the girl a job to do. I asked her to visit her mother’s
Similar Books
