High Tide (3 page)

Dragging her backpack on over her shoulder sent more pain through her. She and the rest of The Five, as they'd dubbed themselves as kids, had stayed out until two
A.M.
, laughing riotously over everything in their lives, but most especially over Fiona's having to go on a
fishing
trip.

“You?” Jean had said. “I can't imagine you more than two miles from a manicurist.” Jean was a sculptor and her hands always looked scraped and worn. But all four of the women knew that Jean didn't need to do anything to make a living; she had a trust fund.

As Fiona walked into the airport, the bright light coming through the huge windows made her hide her eyes while she fumbled in her bag for the sunglasses she'd bought at La-Guardia Airport. In New York they'd seemed so dark she could hardly see through them. But now the glare made them seem like clear glass.

The airport seemed empty as she trudged ahead, her
aching head filled with nothing but bad thoughts. How was she going to survive the next three days? Would this man require
her
to clean fish?

When she stepped onto the escalator leading down to the baggage carousels, the movement almost made her retch. Quickly, she fumbled in her bag for a tissue, then held it to her mouth. Why was she here and what did this man Roy Hudson want with her? And why Florida? And if Florida, why not some nice clean, private beach? Why was he insisting on going into the swamps or whatever to look for—

Because Fiona had a tissue to her mouth and her eyes closed, she had descended the escalator without seeing the silent, watching crowd at the bottom. But when she stepped off, she nearly fell on top of a man with a paunch and not much hair.

“Pardon me,” she said in a voice as husky as her brain was feeling.

The man looked up at her and his face softened. “Any time,” he said, then stepped aside so she could see what they were all watching.

Later, Fiona said that she didn't think, she just
moved
. What she saw—her eyes blinking behind the dark glasses, her mind full of swamps and alligators and the treachery of the state of Florida—was a man with his arm being eaten off by an enormous alligator. As the alligator started to thrash its tail, then move its head from side to side, the man shouted something incomprehensible as he tried to free himself from the attacking reptile.

In school Fiona had been the girl with the fastest reaction time in any game, whether it was soccer or pickup sticks, and now she lost no time. Next to her was a woman with an
airport luggage cart, and on top of it was a pink bowling ball bag with the name
Dixie
embroidered on it.

Without a thought, Fiona picked up the bag and threw it with all her might at the midsection of the alligator.

She wasn't prepared for what happened next. The alligator exploded! It didn't open its mouth and release its victim. Instead, there was a terrific noise, then the whole nasty green thing seemed to fly into thousands of pieces that went flying around the airport.

While Fiona stood there in stunned silence, the rest of the people in the airport seemed to go crazy. Instantly there was screaming and shouts of, “Bomb, bomb!”; then sirens went off and people started running.

Unmoving, still not understanding what had happened, Fiona removed her sunglasses and looked at what she thought had been an alligator. A man came toward her and there seemed to be a double row of teeth attached to his upper arm. Her eyes were on the oddity of the teeth, but when she looked up at the man to ask why he was wearing teeth, she saw that he was furious and he was coming after
her
.

Instinctively, Fiona took a step backward, whereupon she tripped over the luggage cart of the woman who had had the bowling ball bag. But now the woman was gone, probably to join all the many people who were screaming and running frantically for the exits.

“Lady, I'm going to kill you,” the man said as his hands made for Fiona's neck.

But the alligator teeth, and what looked to be a detached eyeball, slipped down his hands so that both teeth and murderous
hands were coming for her throat. Fiona opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

But then, just before the man reached her, two security guards and a boy with red hair grabbed the man, teeth and all, and pulled him away.

“Thank you so much,” Fiona said when a third and fourth security guard helped her to stand up. “That man should be locked away. He's a danger to society, and if you don't—Wait a minute! What do you think you're doing?”

The guard was pulling Fiona's hands behind her back and snapping handcuffs on her wrists. “We're holding you for the police, that's what. The man says you're the one that threw the bomb.” She could hardly hear him over the cacophony of the people in the airport, running every which way, screaming names of people they couldn't find.

“Bomb?” she shouted. “I threw a bowling ball bag at an alligator that was eating a man's arm.”

“Yeah, right,” one of the guards said. “We got alligators crawling all over the airports here in Fort Lauderdale. It entertains the tourists to no end.”

“But you can ask—”

“Save it for the police,” the second guard said as the two of them pulled her toward the exit door.

“What about my luggage? You have to call my boss in New York. He can—”

“Ah. New York,” the first guard said as though that explained everything.

Before Fiona could say another word, she was pulled along by the men and led to a car marked Airport Security. Just like on TV, the man shielded her head from getting
banged on the top of the doorframe as he forcibly helped her inside the car.

Shaking with fatigue, Fiona sat down on the dirty bedspread and looked at the telephone on the cheap, battered bedside cabinet. The beautiful hotel where she was supposed to stay had canceled her reservation when she didn't show up before six. At first she'd politely tried to explain that she'd been in jail for the last six hours, but when she saw the young female clerk back away as though Fiona were a criminal, she tried threatening. This got her nowhere fast, and the manager soon came out and asked her to leave.

So now she was in what had to be the sleaziest motel in all of Florida. It was four
A.M.
and she had to meet Roy Hudson in two hours.

With her hands protected with a tissue (because who knew what type of person had used this phone last?), she punched the buttons to call Jeremy.

When his sleepy voice answered, Fiona burst into tears.

“Who is this? Is this a prank call? You'd better speak up!” Jeremy loudly demanded while Fiona tried to get herself together.

“It's me,” she managed to whisper. “Oh, Jeremy, I've just had—”

“Fiona, do you know what time it is? I have to get up and go to work in three hours.”

“I haven't been to bed at all. Oh, Jeremy, I've been in
jail.”

That got his attention, and she could imagine his sitting
up and reaching for a cigarette. She waited a moment until she heard his lighter click, then heard him inhale.

“All right, I'm listening,” he said in his lawyer voice.

Maybe he didn't like a girlfriend calling him before dawn, but a client in trouble was a whole other matter. After about ten minutes of listening to Fiona's semihysterical telling of her outrageous story, Jeremy interrupted.

“They let you go? No charges?”

“What could they charge me with?” Fiona's voice was rising. “I thought I was saving the man's
life
. Not that it was worth much. Did I tell you that the ungrateful jerk tried to
murder
me? I ought to
sue
him.”

“Ah. There's the word. Is he planning to sue
you?
What about the people at the airport? Did anyone have any accidents during the panic you caused? Heart attacks? Were any ambulances called?”

“Jeremy! Whose side are you on?”

“Yours of course,” he said in a tone of dismissal, “but money is money. Did the man say he was going to sue you for destroying his alligator?”

“I don't know. I don't remember. They kept us separated after we got to the police station. Oh, Jeremy, it was so horrible, and I wish you were here to hold me. That man—”

He cut her off. “Did anyone else mention a lawsuit? What about the airport personnel? You caused mass hysteria, so I doubt if they'll take that lightly.”

Fiona ran her hand over her face. There was no longer any hope that she still wore makeup. “Jeremy, I called you as my
friend,
not as a lawyer.”

“Maybe you'll need both, so would you please answer my questions?”

Part of her wanted to be babied, hugged and cuddled as best he could over the telephone, but another part of her was sane and sensible. She took a deep breath. “The woman whose bowling ball bag I used came to the police station and said I had to buy her a new bag. And her ball was dented too.”

Jeremy let out smoke so fast he nearly choked. “You dented her bowling ball?”

“Don't start on me,” Fiona snapped. “I've heard it all from those horrible policemen. I guess I must have put a lot of my anger into that throw because I hit that … that … thing pretty hard.”

“Enough to dent a bowling ball,” Jeremy said in wonder. “Remind me never to make you angry at me. So, what did you do about the woman's bag and ball? And, by the way, why didn't you call me from the station?”

“Because they said I wasn't under arrest, that I was their ‘guest' until this thing was cleared up, therefore I didn't need any fancy-smancy New York lawyer.”

“You need to document this. You might have a case for a lawsuit against them.”

“I never want to see them again. I gave the woman a check for three hundred dollars and—”

“You what!?”

“Paid for the ball I dented,” Fiona half shouted into the phone. “Isn't that what you just asked me?”

Jeremy didn't speak for a moment. “You want to calm down?”

“How can I calm down? I didn't want to leave Kimberly
in the first place; Garrett made me go. Now,
there's
someone I'd like to sue. He threatened me that if I didn't go on this trip he'd separate me from Kimberly forever. Can he do that?”

“He's your boss,” Jeremy said, stubbing out his cigarette. Privately, he thought that it would be a great relief if Fiona were separated from Kimberly. “Look, Fee, honey, I need to get some more sleep. It doesn't sound as though you're in serious trouble, but I'll call a friend of mine down there in the morning and have him call you. I'll have him make sure that nothing bad is going to happen to you.” His voice softened. “Now I want you to take a long, hot bath, then get into bed and dream about me.”

Finally, Fiona smiled. It seemed that she hadn't smiled in days, maybe even in years. “I'd like that,” she said softly, leaning back against the headboard. But the creaky thing almost came off its cheap frame, so she had to sit up quickly to keep from falling, and the movement broke the spell.

“I can't,” she said in a little-girl whine. “I have to meet this old man, this Roy Hudson, in just over an hour.”

“Can't you call and delay the meeting?”

“It's for”—she swallowed—“fishing. You have to go out in the boat very early for fishing. Maybe the slimy little things take afternoon naps; I don't know. But I have to be there very soon.”

“All right, calm down. This man Hudson is rich, so I'm sure he'll have a boat with a crew. A yacht probably. Think you could handle a yacht? Have yourself a few drinks? Lie in the sun?”

“Drinking is what got me in this mess in the first place, and sun is
not
going to touch my skin and make me look sixty at forty, and—”

“Okay, have it your way. Be miserable if you want to. Just tell me where you'll be, so my friend can reach you.”

“I'll be at Kendrick Park until we get on the boat. I think it's a bird sanctuary, and get this, as if I didn't have enough problems, one of the men on the boat is named Ace.”

When Jeremy was silent, Fiona spoke again. “You don't think that's funny?”

“Not particularly. What's wrong with that name?”

She thought about telling him of what she and The Five had come up with about the man, but Jeremy liked The Five as much as he liked Kimberly. “I think it might be a woman thing.”

“I'm sure it is. Look, honey …”

“Yes, I know, you need your beauty sleep. Did I tell you that when I didn't claim my suitcase, they put it into an incinerator? After all, they'd already had one bomb scare that day, so they didn't need another one. I am here with the clothes on my back and what's in my pack.”

Jeremy yawned. “If I know women, that thing is full of everything you need for a week on a deserted island.”

Tightening her lips, Fiona glared at the phone. His chauvinistic comment was one of dismissal, and all his care and concern had been about legal matters. He hadn't offered her a word of sympathy for all that she'd been through. So much for a shoulder to cry on! “At least your photo was in the bag that got burned up,” she said, then hung up. But the gesture didn't make her feel any better. She had an hour and a half to get ready to meet Roy Hudson.