Drunk on the job, p.9
Drunk on the Job, page 9
part #2 of The Misadventures of a Drunk in Paradise Series
“We gotta message for ya to give Artie,” growled the first one, except he forgot to pronounce the r in Artie, pronouncing it Autie instead.
“Oh, we’re passing notes now. Mmm. Okay?” I said nervously. I patted myself down. “Gee, I left my wide-rule paper at home. You got anything over there I could use?”
“Just tell him he ain’t gonna get away wid it.”
I frowned. “Do you work for Sly and Erika?”
He pointed his gun at me too. “It ain’t nonna yo bidness who we’re workin’ for.” The more I heard his thick accent, the more I decided he sounded very East Coast. Maybe Boston or New York.
I nodded. “Fair enough. Fair enough. Okay. Well, I’ll be sure to give him the message. I think it’d mean a little more if he knew who was sending it, but—”
“I gotta feelin’ he’ll figure it out.”
“Alrighty, then. I’ll move the message along.” Anxious to get back to the resort, I moved towards the outboard motor. I’d almost grabbed ahold of the tiller when a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed past my hand and blew a hole in the fucking motor right in front of me. My hand recoiled. I spun around, hugging my hand to my chest, suddenly incredibly thankful it was still attached to my body. “What the actual fuck, man?!”
Each of the men fired again. One bullet struck the motor and another struck the fiberglass hull of the boat.
My eyes widened as the two men continued to pour lead into the tiny tender. Over a dozen shots between the two of them were fired into my boat. Water poured in around my sneakers. I looked up at them. “Are you fucking kidding me? You just told me to deliver a message to Artie. How am I supposed to do that when I’m dead?”
“We didn’t kill you,” said one of them. “We killed ya boat.”
The other one chuckled as he climbed into the driver’s seat of their boat. “Happy swimmin’, asshole.”
14
With a dozen holes in the shell of my boat and water creeping in around my ankles, I knew it wouldn’t take long for the thing to sink right out from underneath me. So I grabbed the walkie-talkie and my gun and jumped overboard. I didn’t even watch the boat go down but instead began the long swim back towards land. I struggled in the water for what seemed like hours before an excursion tour boat on a day trip to another island spotted me and picked me up, giving me a ride to shore.
By the time I got back to the resort, the ambulance had already come and gone, and Marcus had been looked over. The EMTs had wanted to take him with them to get checked over, but Marcus had refused, stating he felt fine.
Officer Martinez, the single island cop that had shown up, was still there, interviewing some of the guests down at the beach. According to Marcus, he’d been patrolling the area when a masked man had shown up and started making a scene. He threw over some lounge chairs and railed at the guests. He even went up to the swim-up bar, picked up a barstool and leveled everything on top of the bar. When Marcus approached the man, gun in hand, someone from behind coldcocked him and that was all Marcus remembered.
It seemed that after everything that had gone down, the fallout was minimal. Because it had happened so fast, there was little information to share. Aside from the spray paint on the side of the clubhouse and a few broken liquor bottles and drink glasses, they’d done minimal damage to the resort. And because the vandals had both been wearing masks, they’d left behind no clues as to their identity. Before he left, I relayed my experience to the officer. He told me I’d been stupid to follow the men, and I’d had to wholeheartedly agree.
Now, with Gary and Ralph flanking me on either side, we stared at the hastily graffiti’d message. In blood-red paint running down the side of the clubhouse’s white beach-facing wall, it read Back Of Artie.
“Back Of Artie,” read Gary aloud. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
“Something wrong with the back of Artie?” asked Ralph, looking over at me and Gary.
Gary’s top lip curled. “I mean, he’s kinda wide, but other than that…”
“I think that’s supposed to say off, fellas. Not of. Back Off Artie.” I rolled my eyes.
“But off is spelled with two f’s, not one,” said Ralph.
“I don’t think we’re exactly dealing with a couple of brainiacs here.” At least they hadn’t seemed very intelligent when we’d been out on the water together—although, to their credit, ultimately it had been I that looked the fool.
“Back Off Artie?” said Gary. “Someone wants Artie to back off? Back off of what?”
“Yeah, back off of what?” parroted Ralph.
My eyes skipped down the beach towards the Crystal Point Resort. I frowned. “I think I know exactly what they want him to back off of.”
* * *
After taking a big swallow of Dr Pepper, I looked up at Artie. “Oh, and the guys in the boat wanted me to give you a message, too.” I’d just finished relaying what had transpired down at the beach and was now sitting in Artie’s office with him and Al.
Artie looked confused. “Another message? What’d they say?”
“They said you aren’t gonna get away with it.” With narrowed eyes, my head shook angrily. “Fuckers,” I muttered under my breath.
Artie frowned. “I just don’t understand. Get away with what? Back off what?”
“Obviously this is Sly’s way of warning you not to prank him again.”
“But this is his doing, not mine!” said Artie, his arms extended. “He’s the one that needs to back off!”
Al, who had been sitting there quietly, looked over at me curiously. “Did you recognize the men in the boat?”
“They were wearing masks. I couldn’t see their faces. But I did come right out and ask them if they were working for Sly.”
“Well? What’d they say?”
“They said it was none of my business who they were working for. And then they shot me out of my boat.”
Artie lifted his brows and nodded. “It’s gotta be Sly’s retribution. Who else would send me a message like that?”
My head bobbed. “Exactly. It’s Sly. I’m sure of it. That son of a bitch.” I growled.
Artie gave a little wince like he wasn’t completely convinced. “But it just doesn’t seem like something Sly would do. To knock out a security guard? Shoot you out of a boat? Scare all of our guests like that?” He shook his head. “I just can’t see Sly going to those lengths all in the name of a prank.”
Artie had a point, and truthfully, I’d had the same thought. It had seemed excessive. I scratched the scruff under my chin and crossed my legs at the ankle.
“You got any other enemies on the island, Artie?”
Artie shook his head. “Aside from Sly, I can’t think of a single person that would be upset with me. At least not like that.”
I glanced over at Al, wondering if the car we’d been investigating had crossed his mind as it had crossed mine. Maybe it was someone attached to Val that had sent the message.
Al caught my look. With his eyes closed and his lips pursed together, he shook his head at me like he was the fucking Godfather or something. It was his quiet way of telling me now wasn’t the time to tell Artie about Val’s possible indiscretions.
“Look, kid. Artie’s a business owner. Business owners just inherently piss people off from time to time. It’s like a law of business.”
“Oh really? You owned a Case IH dealership for a hundred years. You ever piss anyone off enough to vandalize your business, knock your security guard old cold, and then shoot your head of security out of a boat?”
Al lifted a shoulder. “Not that I recall. But that’s not to say that it didn’t happen and I just forgot about it. I’m old. I forget things.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure you’d remember something like that. So I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say it’s unlikely this was anything other than a purely personal attack.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Artie’s voice boomed.
Gigi Flores’s head popped into the doorway. “Hello, Mr. Balladares. Mariposa said Drunk is in here. May I speak with him for a moment?”
I gave a wave from the other side of the room. “What’s up, Gig? Everything okay?”
When she saw me, I noticed something in her eyes. Something disconcerting.
I frowned and sat up in my chair. “What is it?”
“Can you come out here? I need to show you something.”
“Yeah, of course.” I glanced back at Al and Artie as I followed her to the door. “I’ll be right back, guys.”
In the hallway, Gigi wordlessly grabbed hold of my wrist and tugged me over to the elevator. She pointed at a sign on it. It said “Elevator Out of Order.”
I frowned. “There’s something wrong with the elevator? Did you call Hector?”
She nodded. “I did, because my cart has been stuck on the fourth floor for the last hour while I waited for the elevators to get fixed.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he didn’t put those signs there.”
“Hmm. That’s odd.”
She sighed and pulled me around the corner of the lobby to the stairwell door. Pulling the door open, she pointed inside. Caution tape had been strung up around the stairs, and there was a red and white caution sign posted that said “Stairways closed for maintenance. Do not enter.”
“Hector didn’t do this either?”
She shook her head. “He said he didn’t. Did you put these here?”
“No. I’ve been busy down at the beach. We had an incident down there.”
She looked concerned. “Yeah, I heard about that. Did they catch the guys that did it yet?”
“I wish they had, but no. Let’s not worry about that right now. We need to figure out what’s going on here with the elevators.”
Gigi shrugged, just as Mariposa came from around the corner to speak with me.
“Drunk, we’re having some problems with our door scanner system. I’ve had at least a dozen new guests come up to complain their cards aren’t working in the doors.”
I frowned at her. “You’re kidding?”
“Totally serious.”
“What floors are you having problems with?”
She shrugged. “There are several of them. Maybe something’s wrong with the electrical system. Could that be what’s wrong with the elevators?”
“Is the scanner problem just in the main building? Or are we having problems with the motel rooms too?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s just the main building.”
“What do you know about the elevators?” I asked her. “Do you know who put the signs up?”
“No. I have no idea. The guests are upset, though. They’ve been having difficulty getting to their rooms.”
“Well, then, how have they been getting there?”
“I’ve been directing them to the stairwell all the way at the back of the building. They’re the only ones I’m aware of that aren’t under maintenance right now. It would’ve been nice if Hector could’ve been a little more strategic with his maintenance stuff so we didn’t bother the guests. Maybe you could have a talk with him?”
“I don’t understand why the stairs would be under maintenance.” I looked at the stairwell. “Look, you two keep an eye on things down here. I’m gonna see what’s being repaired in the stairwell. When I find out what’s going on, I’ll let you know.”
Gigi nodded. “I’ll wait here for you.”
At the bottom of the stairs, I tore down the caution tape and then sprinted up the first few flights to find no issues whatsoever. Just a sign and caution tape posted at each level that said the stairs were closed for maintenance. As I continued to find nothing wrong with the stairs, it occurred to me that perhaps this was a prank. By the time I got to the seventh floor, not only was I out of breath, but I was also out of patience. I had more than a sneaking suspicion that we’d been had. When I’d gone all the way to the top floor of the building, I exited the stairwell and walked down the hallway to the elevator. Despite the sign, I pressed the button, and in seconds an elevator was there to carry me down to the first floor. I got inside and pressed the lobby button.
When the doors opened and I emerged in the lobby, Gigi and Mari came rushing over to me.
“The elevators work now?!” asked Gigi.
I grimaced. “I don’t think they were ever broken.”
Gigi shook her head. “I don’t get it. Well, then, why were there signs?”
I let out a sigh. “Because I think someone was pulling a prank on us.”
“Who would do that?!” cried Gigi.
“That’s for me to handle. Look, Gigi. This is what I want you to do. Take the elevator, go to every floor and pull down the signs on the elevators and in the stairwells.” Then I looked at Mari. “Mari, you and I are going to figure out what’s going on with the key system.”
“Okay, I’ll go grab a couple keys and tell the girls I’ll be right back.”
Gigi took off, leaving me to shake my head in wonder. I had to assume the elevator and the stair signs were courtesy of Sly and Erika. So was what had happened down at the beach just supposed to have been a distraction to get me to leave my post? If that was the case, they were seriously disturbed individuals! Criminals, in fact, that deserved to be in jail!
Mari came back holding some room keys. “Okay, I grabbed several for the second floor. We’ll try room two fifteen first.”
We took the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hall to room 215. Mari scanned the keycard she’d programmed to work, but the little room light flashed red.
“Here, let me try.” I took the card from her and inserted the card into the reader, but this time pulled it out slower. The door beeped and a red light lit up.
“See?”
“Well, shit!” I hissed. I tried it again and got the same result. “What number’s that one?”
“Two twenty-five.”
“Come on.” We walked down the hallway to room 225 and the same thing happened. A beep and a red light. “Well, what is going on?!” Looking down the hallway in both directions, I wondered how in the world Sly and Erika had infiltrated our key card system. That was when I noticed something lying on the ground down the opposite hallway. I walked down and picked it up. It was the room number plate for one of the rooms. It had somehow fallen off the door. I stared at it, frowning.
“Hey, Mari. Take a look at this.”
Mariposa walked over and looked at the room number plate in my hands. “Yeah?”
“Do these fall off very often?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never seen it happen, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t. Why?”
I stared at the door in front of me. A small adhesive square indicated where the plate had once been. I turned around and looked at the door behind me. “Were even-numbered rooms always on this side of the hallway?”
Mari stared at the rooms. Tipping her head sideways, she walked back down to the elevator and looked down the hallway, trying to orient her brain to how she was standing in the hotel. Finally, she shook her head.
“No. I think even-numbered rooms are usually on the elevator side and the odd-numbered rooms are across the hall.”
I let out a groan before walking back down the hall to room 215 with Mari trailing behind me. “Gimme that key again, would you?”
Mari handed me the key. But instead of inserting it into room 215, I turned around and inserted it into room 216, across the hall. The door beeped and the light turned green, and I was able to open the door.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Bastards switched all the door plates!”
Mari’s dark eyes widened. She drew in a breath. “You don’t think Sly Smallwood did this, do you?”
“I’m sure he did it. Him and his criminal accomplice. I can’t believe they’d stoop so low as to vandalize our property and to assault a guard just to distract me.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
I lifted a brow. “Revenge comes to mind.”
15
Anger’s venom spilled into my veins as I burst into Erika Wild’s office. “You evil fucking shitlark. How could you stoop so low?!”
Her eyes swept past me to look at the door I’d just burst through. “I’m sorry. Are we past the knocking phase in our relationship?”
“You took it way too far this time, Wild.”
Groaning and with an annoyed look on her face, she leaned back in her seat and folded her hands over her stomach. “Oh, please, Drunk. I thought we were finally on an even playing field. Or am I wrong? Have your testicles suddenly retracted?”
I stared at her—speechless. They didn’t make women like this where I came from. At least I’d never dealt with them if they did. I didn’t even know where to start with someone as morally corrupt and clinically insane as Erika Wild. I shook my head at her.
“Have you been diagnosed as a sociopath, or is it just on your bucket list?”
“Can you be any more dramatic?”
“Eat a dick.”
“I’m sorry, you don’t look that appetizing. Look, where do you get off storming into my office and acting like you’re suddenly this choirboy?” She rolled her eyes. “Please. You were a willing participant in our little prank war. If you can dish it out, then you better be willing to take it.”
I poked a finger into my chest. “First of all, I may not be a choirboy, but I do have ethical boundaries that I wouldn’t cross. And second, I wouldn’t be a participant if you hadn’t released two hundred fifty chickens onto our resort. That kind of prank couldn’t go unanswered.”
“Oh, God. Not that again? You’re a broken record, you know that?” Then she lifted a shoulder as if she thought the whole thing amused her. “I thought you seemed bored. I was just trying to liven it up a little over there.”
“You crossed a line, Wild.” I thought better of that statement and shook my head. “No, let me amend that. You didn’t just cross a line, you fucking drove a bulldozer over the line and then set that on fire. Get it?”
