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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
That’s telling him
>> Kona
As Sonya Chan stepped back aboard the yacht Wet Spot after retrieving some personal items from Daren Guy's fishing boat, she experienced illumination -- it was so suddenly clear what she must do -- because if Daren were discovered ashore while helping Sushi Leclaire find Pele's Bath, it would mean to the authorities that he was alive. Which meant she was out two mill plus and went back to hustling tables at the Yacht Club. Daren needed to remain officially dead. And besides, Sushi could ask directions to Pele's Bath from the rental car company.
She set the backpack down, running through all her thoughts again.
"C'mon, babe, move it, we gotta go!" Daren called. "The wheel's yours ..."
Daren heard a click, saw Sonya releasing the speargun's safety.
"Hey, what's going on?!"
Sushi, watching from the dinghy tied to the back of the fishing boat, could not believe what he was seeing, but there it was, she was raising the speargun, as if ready to shoot.
And she was. All she had to do was aim and fire ... she was an expert shot with a speargun after all that diving with Daren ... but shooting your boyfriend ... your lover ... your fiancee ... your true love ... it's not the same as shooting a parrot fish ...
"Sonya!" Daren said in a raspy whisper. "What's wrong?"
She blinked away a tear ... there was another matter ...
"Didn't Sushi say there would be another payment when we reached Kona," she said, recovering quickly. Daren was carrying the first $20,000 with him. Sonya motioned with the speargun, pulling it slightly back toward her shoulder. "I think I deserve a cut." She was making this up as she went. "Don't you?"
"What's gotten into you, Sonya? What happened?"
"I thought you two were in a big hurry for all of us to get away from here," she replied. "Less talk, please." Please? Oh, that's telling him.
In the starlight, Sonya saw Sushi reach for his metal briefcase, heard the two latches popping open. She stepped aggressively to the rail, just five feet from where he sat, pointed the speargun at his chest. Hello, Rambette, where did you come from?
"Not the gun, Sushi, cash," Sonya said, sounding far more calm than she felt. "And turn the case so I can see. No pleases about it this time."
Sushi had indeed been reaching for the 9mm. Her knowledge of the gun rattled him, as did her icy tone. Fighting panic, he turned the case.
"I'll take one of those $20,000 packs." She wiggled the speargun at him.
"And the gun."
Holding his breath, knowing he had no choice, Sushi handed them over.
Daren held his breath too as Sonya, holding all the weapons, turned his way.
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com