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.“Uncle Leo,” Zale said, turning and twisting his face out of the older man’s grasp.“This is Seychelle Sullivan.She’s a friend of Mom’s, and she’s the one who was there this morning.She saw—”I stepped forward with my hand outstretched so Zale wouldn’t have to finish the sentence.“Mr.Quinn, I run the salvage tug Gorda, and I towed the Mykonos up to River Bend Boatyard this morning.I’m here to inform you of my intent to file a salvage claim against the vessel.” I slid the papers out of the envelope and handed him the open form documents.“I’d also like to express my condolences.I understand you and Nick were close.”“Salvage claim?” His eyes bounced back and forth as he read through the document.He looked up at Zale.“What the hell? This is a lot of money.”“Mr.Quinn, please look over the documents.I have proposed a fee for my services there, but that is open to negotiation.I’m sure the insurance company will take care of this.I don’t know anything about Mr.Pontus’s estate, or whether the Mykonos was owned by him personally or by the company, but I was told you are his personal attorney, so I am bringing these documents to you.You’ll find the numbers listed there for my attorney, as well as my home phone.If you have any questions, give us a call.”I turned and reached for the office door, but Quinn stepped over to me and put his hand on my arm.“Miss Sullivan, I apologize for my lack of manners.Please, sit down for a few minutes before you have to go back outside and face those terrible people.” He steered me to an antique chair on the opposite side of his heavy wood desk.Zale sat in the chair’s twin, and Leon Quinn settled himself behind his desk.“Zale said you are a friend of his mother’s?”I didn’t see any sense in trying to explain the real state of our relationship.Not even Zale would fully understand that.“Yes, we grew up together.”“Ah, friendship that stands the test of time.That is real friendship.”I forced a smile at Quinn and nodded, then diverted my eyes so as not to have to meet his.I was certain he would see what a liar I was.On the shelves behind his desk were half a dozen framed snapshots of Nick and him catching a marlin onboard a sport fisherman, wearing yellow construction hats at a groundbreaking ceremony, slapping each other on the back while wearing identical tuxedos, that sort of thing.Quinn followed my eyes to the photos.“Nick Pontus was an extraordinary man.” His voice cracked and he paused, cleared his throat, then continued.“I was more than fifteen years his senior, but I was one of the first people he hired when he started his TropiSubs down on Hollywood Beach.I was struggling to pay my way through law school, and I worked nights and weekends for Nick.He was just this brash kid determined to make a place for himself in this country.I guess you could say we grew up together, too.”“I knew Nick over ten years ago, back when he and Molly first met.You’re certainly right when you describe him as brash.”“Yeah, he did things his own way.” Quinn smiled.“Regardless.And that seemed to work okay for him until he met Ari Kagan and sold TropiCruz to him and his syndicate.Bastards.But I never thought it would come to this.”“You seem certain that they’re responsible.”“Who else?” He spread his big hands wide in front of him.Then his eyes lit on Zale.“Sorry, kid, but you’re gonna be hearing this all over town.These assholes killed your dad to screw him outta a few million bucks.” He shook his head and turned to me.“See, Nicky decided to sell the casino cruise line because he was getting into hotels in a big way.Besides, he was tired of it.He gets bored easy.But he retained ten percent of TropiCruz—like a silent partner, see? And the new resorts, like the one he’s building here, were going up just to service the gamblers coming here to Lauderdale to go out on the boats.That asswipe Kagan owed Nick millions from cash that was on the boats at the time of the sale and payments he stiffed us on.This is no secret.It’s been all over the papers.Nicky wasn’t letting Kagan get away with it.We just went to court last week to start the process to get the boats back.” He shook his head.“Fuckin’ Russians are animals.”The secretary, Roma, appeared at the door, her face still blotchy and her chin quivering.“Mr.Quinn, pardon me, but there is a police detective on the line for you.”“Look,” I said, rising out of the chair, “we’ve got to go.Thanks for your time, Mr.Quinn.”He came around the desk once again and smothered Zale in another of those hugs.“Anything,” he said.“Remember, there is anything I can do, you call, right?” Zale nodded and backed away from him.As we headed back out toward the front door, I said in a low voice, “I think I’d rather face the protesters out there than get a hug from Uncle Leo.”The corner of Zale’s mouth twitched a little, and I figured that a few hours after his dad’s death, that was about the best I should expect.VIThe protesters chanted and waved their placards with renewed vigor the minute we exited the building, but I didn’t see the old woman.There were only about fifteen to twenty people in the crowd, and they closed in around us as we tried to make our way to the El Camino.I wanted another look at the woman, just to try to nudge the memory out, to figure out where I had seen her before, but she was gone.B.J.leaned across the seat and opened the passenger-side door from the inside.Strains of airy flute music wafted out of the truck’s interior as I waved the protesters back so that I could open the door wide enough for Zale to get in.“Let’s get out of here,” I said.“We need to go pick up Gorda at River Bend.”Zale slid into the middle, and once I’d squeezed in and slammed the door, B.J.sat a moment longer, listening to the final notes of the music, his eyes closed.“What is that?” Zale asked when the song ended and B.J.switched on the ignition.“James Galway on the flute.The song’s called ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.’ ”Zale’s eyebrows drew together, wrinkling his forehead, and he stared at the CD player.When the next song started, and the simple, clear guitar notes floated out of the sound system, the boy looked up and nodded at B.J.“Red Hot Chili Peppers,” he said as he started bouncing his index finger on his jeans-covered leg.Then he lifted his hand and pointed at the CD player.“ ‘Under the Bridge,’ ” he said just before the vocals started.B.J [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.“Uncle Leo,” Zale said, turning and twisting his face out of the older man’s grasp.“This is Seychelle Sullivan.She’s a friend of Mom’s, and she’s the one who was there this morning.She saw—”I stepped forward with my hand outstretched so Zale wouldn’t have to finish the sentence.“Mr.Quinn, I run the salvage tug Gorda, and I towed the Mykonos up to River Bend Boatyard this morning.I’m here to inform you of my intent to file a salvage claim against the vessel.” I slid the papers out of the envelope and handed him the open form documents.“I’d also like to express my condolences.I understand you and Nick were close.”“Salvage claim?” His eyes bounced back and forth as he read through the document.He looked up at Zale.“What the hell? This is a lot of money.”“Mr.Quinn, please look over the documents.I have proposed a fee for my services there, but that is open to negotiation.I’m sure the insurance company will take care of this.I don’t know anything about Mr.Pontus’s estate, or whether the Mykonos was owned by him personally or by the company, but I was told you are his personal attorney, so I am bringing these documents to you.You’ll find the numbers listed there for my attorney, as well as my home phone.If you have any questions, give us a call.”I turned and reached for the office door, but Quinn stepped over to me and put his hand on my arm.“Miss Sullivan, I apologize for my lack of manners.Please, sit down for a few minutes before you have to go back outside and face those terrible people.” He steered me to an antique chair on the opposite side of his heavy wood desk.Zale sat in the chair’s twin, and Leon Quinn settled himself behind his desk.“Zale said you are a friend of his mother’s?”I didn’t see any sense in trying to explain the real state of our relationship.Not even Zale would fully understand that.“Yes, we grew up together.”“Ah, friendship that stands the test of time.That is real friendship.”I forced a smile at Quinn and nodded, then diverted my eyes so as not to have to meet his.I was certain he would see what a liar I was.On the shelves behind his desk were half a dozen framed snapshots of Nick and him catching a marlin onboard a sport fisherman, wearing yellow construction hats at a groundbreaking ceremony, slapping each other on the back while wearing identical tuxedos, that sort of thing.Quinn followed my eyes to the photos.“Nick Pontus was an extraordinary man.” His voice cracked and he paused, cleared his throat, then continued.“I was more than fifteen years his senior, but I was one of the first people he hired when he started his TropiSubs down on Hollywood Beach.I was struggling to pay my way through law school, and I worked nights and weekends for Nick.He was just this brash kid determined to make a place for himself in this country.I guess you could say we grew up together, too.”“I knew Nick over ten years ago, back when he and Molly first met.You’re certainly right when you describe him as brash.”“Yeah, he did things his own way.” Quinn smiled.“Regardless.And that seemed to work okay for him until he met Ari Kagan and sold TropiCruz to him and his syndicate.Bastards.But I never thought it would come to this.”“You seem certain that they’re responsible.”“Who else?” He spread his big hands wide in front of him.Then his eyes lit on Zale.“Sorry, kid, but you’re gonna be hearing this all over town.These assholes killed your dad to screw him outta a few million bucks.” He shook his head and turned to me.“See, Nicky decided to sell the casino cruise line because he was getting into hotels in a big way.Besides, he was tired of it.He gets bored easy.But he retained ten percent of TropiCruz—like a silent partner, see? And the new resorts, like the one he’s building here, were going up just to service the gamblers coming here to Lauderdale to go out on the boats.That asswipe Kagan owed Nick millions from cash that was on the boats at the time of the sale and payments he stiffed us on.This is no secret.It’s been all over the papers.Nicky wasn’t letting Kagan get away with it.We just went to court last week to start the process to get the boats back.” He shook his head.“Fuckin’ Russians are animals.”The secretary, Roma, appeared at the door, her face still blotchy and her chin quivering.“Mr.Quinn, pardon me, but there is a police detective on the line for you.”“Look,” I said, rising out of the chair, “we’ve got to go.Thanks for your time, Mr.Quinn.”He came around the desk once again and smothered Zale in another of those hugs.“Anything,” he said.“Remember, there is anything I can do, you call, right?” Zale nodded and backed away from him.As we headed back out toward the front door, I said in a low voice, “I think I’d rather face the protesters out there than get a hug from Uncle Leo.”The corner of Zale’s mouth twitched a little, and I figured that a few hours after his dad’s death, that was about the best I should expect.VIThe protesters chanted and waved their placards with renewed vigor the minute we exited the building, but I didn’t see the old woman.There were only about fifteen to twenty people in the crowd, and they closed in around us as we tried to make our way to the El Camino.I wanted another look at the woman, just to try to nudge the memory out, to figure out where I had seen her before, but she was gone.B.J.leaned across the seat and opened the passenger-side door from the inside.Strains of airy flute music wafted out of the truck’s interior as I waved the protesters back so that I could open the door wide enough for Zale to get in.“Let’s get out of here,” I said.“We need to go pick up Gorda at River Bend.”Zale slid into the middle, and once I’d squeezed in and slammed the door, B.J.sat a moment longer, listening to the final notes of the music, his eyes closed.“What is that?” Zale asked when the song ended and B.J.switched on the ignition.“James Galway on the flute.The song’s called ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.’ ”Zale’s eyebrows drew together, wrinkling his forehead, and he stared at the CD player.When the next song started, and the simple, clear guitar notes floated out of the sound system, the boy looked up and nodded at B.J.“Red Hot Chili Peppers,” he said as he started bouncing his index finger on his jeans-covered leg.Then he lifted his hand and pointed at the CD player.“ ‘Under the Bridge,’ ” he said just before the vocals started.B.J [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]