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Key West Winter Blues

By

Al Lamanda

Copyright 2015 by Al Lamanda

One

Duncan Wyatt stretched in the rear parking lot behind Lo-Lo’s Gentlemen’s Emporium. It was a bar that featured gentlemen’s entertainment in the way of professional pole dancing, but his girlfriend Lo-Lo felt that the word emporium made the place sound more upscale and cosmopolitan than strip club.

Retired from the FBI where Wyatt was a profiler and Interrogator after a stray bullet from a deer hunter’s gun shattered his left hip. He had just returned from the Middle East where he was interrogating known terrorists captured on the battlefield and was jogging on a road near some thick Maryland woods not far from his home. The bullet came from the woods, struck his left hip and the hunter was never identified.

The hip couldn’t be saved. The Bureau paid for him to get a new one made of titanium and although the procedure was a success, he was retired from active duty. The rehab took a year. Barely able to walk at first, after six months he was jogging six miles a day and at year’s end, performing his martial arts routines as if the surgery never happened.

He stayed retired, though; figuring twenty-four years was enough.

The back door to the bar was open and he could hear classical music play as Lo-Lo put her girls through their morning paces. He forgot the title of the piece that was playing, but he knew it as the theme song from the film 2001 A Space Odyssey.

Wyatt picked up several pieces of gym equipment for the rear parking lot. A pull-up station, elevated pushup bars and a heavy bag. After stretching, he did several sets of pull-ups and pushups and then slipped on the heavy bag gloves and pounded the hundred and twenty pound bag for thirty minutes.

Once the sweat ran off him like rain water, Wyatt removed his tee-shirt and continued pounding the bag until he noticed Lo-Lo standing in the doorway, watching him.

Wearing neon blue dance leotards, her red hair in a ponytail, Lo-Lo appeared a decade younger than her forty-one years.

“Wyatt, phone call,” she called to him and went back inside.

He nodded and removed the bag gloves and grabbed his tee-shirt. He went in through the rear door to the office and sat at the desk.

The phone was the old fashioned type with a base and cord and four lights that blinked when a call came through.

Line one was blinking. He picked up the phone and pressed the button.

“This is Wyatt,” he said.

Wyatt’s former boss at the Bureau said, “Duncan, it’s Morgan.”

“My answer is no,” Wyatt said without hesitation.

“I haven’t asked you anything yet,” Morgan said.

“The last time you did and I said yes, I had to kill six people and was damn near killed myself in the process,” Wyatt said. “I’m retired, remember? You should, you retired me.”

“As I recall, you also wound up with a tidy sum of money, a beautiful girlfriend, a disability pension and ownership in a bar,” Morgan said.

“Emporium,” Wyatt said. “And the tidy sum came from the sale of my home in Maryland.”

“A what? What was that word?”

“Never mind,” Wyatt said. “My answer is still no.”

“I’ll be landing in Key West inside the hour,” Morgan said. “Meet me for lunch.”

“Nope,” Wyatt said.

“I’ll come to your bar.”

“Emporium.”

“Fine, emporium then. I’ll walk in and …”

“Where?”

Key West Diner, where else?”

“One o’clock,” Wyatt said. “I have to go home and take a shower.”

“Still jogging?” Morgan asked.

Wyatt hung up and sat there for a moment listening to the classical music playing in the bar.

He sighed, stood up and went to see what was going on.

Lo-Lo was hanging upside down with her legs in a split from the center poll on stage. Six of her dancers were watching as she gave instruction to them.

“From this position, what you do is bring your legs together and slide your back against the poll like so,” Lo-Lo said.

Wyatt went behind the bar and filled a mug with coffee. Hanging on the wall under the mirror was a plaque that read Lo-Lo Del Ray, Pole Dancer of the year 2006.

She brought her legs together, locked her arms and said, “Then you lock your arms tight and start your upside down walk.”

Holding the pole tightly, Lo-Lo walked upside down until her legs were parallel to the floor. She held the position for several seconds and then went into a upward spin than ended with a perfect landing to the mat on the floor.

“Who wants to try?” she asked her girls.

One girl took the pole.

Lo-Lo noticed Wyatt at the bar and walked over.

“Sip,” she said and Wyatt held out the mug and she took a small sip of coffee.

“Who was that on the phone?” she asked as she reached for the pack of cigarettes on the bar.

“Morgan, my old boss,” Wyatt said.

Lo-Lo’s blue eyes immediately darkened. “And?”

“He’s flying in today and wants to talk to me.”

“Why?”

“I told you last time he came, he’s sixty and looking to buy a retirement home,” Wyatt said.

Lo-Lo withdrew a cigarette from the pack and lit it with a disposable lighter. She inhaled a blew smoke through her nose and to Wyatt, she looked like a beautiful, smoke blowing red-haired dragon.

“Do you see this?” Lo-Lo said and extended the ring finger of her left hand.

Wyatt looked at the engagement ring and said, “I see it. I’m the one who put it there.”

“Do you know what it means?” Lo-Lo asked as she took another puff on the cigarette.

“That we’re engaged,” Wyatt said.

“Well, yes, that too,” Lo-Lo said.

“Why, what did you think?”

“That it means you can’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Wyatt said. “In fact, I was thinking of bringing him home to dinner tonight if you’re not closing.”

“You know I’m not,” Lo-Lo said. “The night manager comes on at six.”

“Then I’ll have Morgan come by around seven-thirty,” Wyatt said.

“You’ll cook, of course,” Lo-Lo said. “He is your ex boss.”

“Sure,” Wyatt said. “Right now I’m going for my run.”

“Kiss,” Lo-Lo said.

Wyatt reached over the bar and snatched the cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray. “Those are very bad for you,” he said and kissed Lo-Lo on the lips.

As he walked down the hallway to the rear door, Wyatt heard Lo-Lo say, “What are you looking at? Get your bony asses on the poles.”

Two

Wyatt wore tan slacks, a white polo shirt and black loafers to the airport in Key West. He drove his Taurus and arrived at twelve forty-five, just in time to watch the Bureau jetliner touch down on the runway.

The early December sun had warmed the temperature to seventy-three degrees and Wyatt felt a bead of sweat appear on his face.

Morgan was the only passenger on the plane and he wore a topcoat as he exited by the flip-down stairs.

“You won’t need the coat,” Wyatt said as Morgan made his way to him across the open runway.

“It was twenty-eight degrees in DC this morning,” Morgan said as he walked with Wyatt to the Taurus. “My blood gets thin.”

Wyatt opened the doors and Morgan tossed the topcoat in back.

“Do you want lunch first or talk?” Morgan asked.

“Lunch.”

Wyatt drove to the diner in downtown Key West just a few minutes from the airport. They ordered pancakes with fresh strawberries, whipped cream and bacon.

“I have to admit, you look pretty damn good,” Morgan said. “All that jogging and those exercise you do agree with you.”

“The only butter I want is on my pancakes, Morgan,” Wyatt said.

“Are you going to be a pain in the ass, Wyatt?”

“I’m retired, remember,” Wyatt said. “I had fifteen more good years in me and you forced me into voluntary retirement, so forgive me if I sound just a tiny bit bitter.”

“That old chestnut again,” Morgan said. “Look, how was the Bureau supposed to know you would turn out to be the Six-Million-Dollar Man. At the time, you couldn’t even get out of your wheelchair.”

“Do you want dessert?” Wyatt asked.

“This entire breakfast is dessert. What, what did you have in mind?”

“Key Lime Pie,” Wyatt said. “What did you think?”

*****

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in one of these,” Wyatt said when he took a seat at the conference table on board the Bureau jetliner.

“Want some coffee?” Morgan asked.

“Sure.”

Morgan went to the galley and returned with two cups and set it on the table.

“Let me get my briefcase,” Morgan said.

He went to the galley again and opened the safe and returned with his briefcase. He set it on the table, spun the tumblers and flipped open the lid.

“Before we get started, a question,” Morgan said and sat opposite Wyatt.

Wyatt sipped his coffee.

“What do you know about motorcycle gangs in California?” Morgan asked.

“They ride motorcycles and wear leather chaps,” Wyatt said.

“Some do, most don’t,” Morgan said. “Some clubs are made up of frustrated husbands who started a club so they could ride on weekends and forget they spend Monday through Friday wearing a suit and tie and have a mortgage, a wife and three kids and a minivan.”

Wyatt sipped coffee and then looked at Morgan. “Fascinating stuff, Morgan. It has what to do with me and your little junket to the Keys?”

“If you’ll shut up, I’ll continue,” Morgan said. “Most of the motorcycle gangs in California are hardened criminals. They deal in guns, murder, contract killing, drugs, prostitution, kidnapping, extortion and even illegal immigrants. The list is endless. One of the worst is a gang of forty called Hell’s Invaders. They have an outreach of three hundred bikers on call when needed. Their president is a career criminal named Sebastian Noel Kendrick. He …”

“Noel is a woman’s name, isn’t it?” Wyatt said.

“Not in Ireland, which is where his parents were born,” Morgan said. “They came over in the fifties to escape the IRA. I believe his father’s name is Noel.”

“How nice,” Wyatt said.

“Kendrick’s record is substantial, but up until now has never served any real time,” Morgan said. “Lack of witnesses, that sort of thing, although several members of the club have been incarcerated on various charges.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to the point sooner or later,” Wyatt said.

“Kendrick is relocating the HI’s to the Keys,” Morgan said.

“The HI’s?” Wyatt said.

“Short for Hell’s Invaders.”

“I figured,” Wyatt said. “It sounds like an STD.”

“Never mind the … it does doesn’t it,” Morgan said.

“Why isn’t this the local and California State Police’s problem?” Wyatt asked.

“It is, but it’s ours as well,” Morgan said. “They and the Bureau for that matter don’t know why Kendrick is moving the club to the Keys. We have some informants on the street that brought us this information. Our surveillance proves them right. Not the entire club, at least not all at once. Kendrick, his club vice-president known as D Block, and club treasure Scout Ingstrom.”

“Cute names,” Wyatt said.

“You think that’s cute, Kendrick’s club handle is Bunny,” Morgan said. “A nickname he picked up as a kid in school. It seems Sebastian was too much for the kids in the first grade to handle, so they started calling him Benny. It morphed into Bunny and guess the rest.”

“Do Bunny, Scout and …?”

“D Block.”

“Right, D Block are moving their club to the Keys,” Wyatt said. “Why isn’t this the local police and state police’s problem?”

“Who said it wasn’t?” Morgan said.

Wyatt sighed. “Why am I sitting in an FBI jetliner having this conversation?”

“Kendrick is smart,” Morgan said. “Whatever he is up to isn’t good, but he’s too smart to tip his hand. He won’t break any laws in the Keys while he’s doing whatever he’s doing and putting a tail on him is a waste of time.”

“So you asking me to do what?” Wyatt said.

“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Morgan said. “When you meet the man …”

“Who said I’m going to meet him?”

“You own a strip club.”

“Emporium.”

“Fuck you with this emporium bullshit,” Morgan said. “The one thing I do know for sure is bikers love strip clubs. When he and his crew visit yours, make contact with him. You know what to do. You were one of the best field agents I ever had.”

“You want me to see what this asshole’s up to, just come out an say it,” Wyatt said.

“I want you to see what this asshole’s up to,” Morgan said. “Casually, quietly and report only to me. I have files for you to read. You can take them with you if you’d like, provided no one else sees them.”

“I expect compensation for my time and expenses,” Wyatt said.

“Full salary at your retired G rating and whatever expense money you require,” Morgan said.

“I’m private sector now, Morgan,” Wyatt said. “I want twice my salary plus the expense money. Also, I want a five hundred thousand dollar temporary life insurance policy with Lo-Lo as the beneficiary for as long as this case is active.”

“None of that is a problem, Wyatt,” Morgan said. “Take the files and read them. I’m staying the night and …”

“Come to dinner at my house,” Wyatt said. “We can discuss the reports there.”

“What about …?”

“She isn’t to know,” Wyatt said. “She thinks you’re shopping for a retirement home.”

“That again.”

“You want to tell her the truth?” Wyatt asked.

“No.”

“What would you like for dinner?”

Three

Wyatt sat in the backyard of the home he rented with Lo-Lo and read the files provided by Morgan.

Two coconut trees provided shade from the afternoon sun, which, even in December was hot.

He had a tall glass of lemonade over shaved ice and sipped it as he read.

The Hell’s Invaders motorcycle club was founded in nineteen seventy-three by a small group of Vietnam veterans in Los Angeles. The small group of disenfranchised veterans grew quickly into a gang of roaming outcasts. By nineteen eighty, the Vietnam veterans were gone and mostly career criminals took their place.

Beside the glass of lemonade on a small table, Wyatt’s cell phone rang. He checked the number and answered the call.

“Wyatt, you home?” Lo-Lo asked.

“In the backyard,” Wyatt said.

“Did you see your boss?”

“Ex boss and yes. He’s coming to dinner.”

“Wyatt, I don’t mean to sound bitchy about him,” Lo-Lo said. “I just worry is all.”

“I know and there is nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll be home around six-thirty.”

“Do me a favor,” Wyatt said. “I stopped by the Winn Dixie, but I forgot something for dessert. Morgan likes Key Lime pie. Could you grab one on your way and some whipping cream?”

“Sure. See you at home.”

Wyatt found his place and continued reading.

Kendrick was born in sixty-eight and would turn forty-eight next February. He spent two years at So Cal where he studied engineering. He dropped out to enlist in the Army and did a tour in the Gulf War before being discharged in late ninety-two.

He wasn’t home very long in Los Angeles before he hooked up with the Hell’s Invaders. It was unclear how he rose to prominence so quickly, or why he joined in the first place, but by ninety-five Kendrick was elected club vice-president. In ninety-nine, when the club president died of natural causes, Kendrick was elected president.

Under his guidance, the club expanded to forty members, with outreach charters in Oakland, San Diego, San Francisco and Seattle, numbering at three hundred or more.

Wyatt looked at the photo of Kendrick paper clipped to the file. He was a tall, brawny man with close-cropped brown hair, dark eyes, and a neatly trimmed goatee. The report said he had seven or eight tattoos of which were visible on his arms and chest.

Kendrick’s military record was excellent if not exemplarily. After six years of service, he was honorably discharged as a staff sergeant, E6. He won several medals, including one Purple Heart from a wound suffered in the Gulf War. His IQ as tested by the Army was very high, close to genius level.

Scout Ingstrom was born Steven in sixty-seven. He had a normal upbringing in a suburb of Los Angeles and enlisted in the Army the same time as Kendrick, although the two never met until they were discharged and back home. The name Scout was held over from his time in the Army where he was in a cavalry unit and he was a scout for his squad. His real name was Steven.

How or why he became a member of the Hell’s Invaders is unknown. How he became club treasure is also unknown. His IQ wasn’t particularly high, barely above average.

Wyatt looked at Ingstrom’s photo. The man was about what Wyatt expected. Heavyset, long scraggly hair and beard, a prototype gang biker.

D Block was born Dennis Ritchie in sixty-six. A high school dropout, he did his first time at the age of eighteen for car theft. The year was spent on D block at a state prison.

Upon release from prison, friends in the neighborhood took to calling him D Block instead of Dennis. The name stuck. It is unknown what drew Ritchie to the Hell’s Invaders, but after twenty years of service to the club, he was elected vice-president.

Wyatt looked at Ritchie’s photo. The man was squat and as wide as he was thick. His head was shaved and he wore a bushy beard. Round, dark glasses covered his eyes. A medical condition claimed his eyes were light sensitive.

Wyatt flipped pages and read the reports on club income. The club owned and operated two motorcycle repair and body shops in Los Angeles. The two shops cleared just over two hundred thousand after taxes and expenses.

Officially the club had no other source of income.

Many of the club members were reported to have jobs, mostly as auto mechanics at local repair shops.

LAPD, the sheriff’s department and the state police suspected the club of every crime in the book, but have been unable to convict the principal members of so much as jaywalking.

The list of suspected crimes included murder for hire, extortion, blackmail, kidnapping, drug smuggling, prostitution and adult films, truck hijacking, gun smuggling, human trafficking of illegals and gambling.

A Confidential Informant working for the FBI reported to his contact that the club was planning the move to the Keys.

The CI reported that every member of the club drove at least one motorcycle and one car or truck. The club itself owned two large vans and one truck outright, plus one large house used for meetings and club parties.

Morgan pulled some strings at the IRS and filed tax returns showed modest incomes for the club members with no outstanding back taxes or liens owed.

The CI claimed that Kendrick, Ingstrom and Ritchie would be traveling to Florida by a large rented truck so they could transport their bikes and van, although the reason for the trip was yet unknown.

It was also unknown if and when other members of the club would follow.

Wyatt set the files on the table, picked up his lemonade and took a sip.

“Christ sake, Morgan, you got nothing,” he said aloud.

Four

“My theory has always been that men find it more exciting when a woman is scantly clad rather than completely nude,” Lo-Lo told Morgan. “The imagination is stimulated when all isn’t revealed but threatened to so to speak.”

Lo-Lo and Morgan were at the backyard patio table. To their left, Wyatt grilled steaks on the barbeque grill.

“When we got the bar and converted it to include entertainment, I put my theory to the test,” Lo-Lo said. “My girls can wear any kind of sultry costume they want so long as there is no nudity. The result has been a packed house every night of the week.”

“Really?” Morgan said.

“Our doors open at four and by five it’s a packed house,” Lo-Lo said. “We do one six minute show every fifteen minutes and rotate the girls. I have twelve total, but I might have to add a few if things stay the way they are. It’s hard to find qualified girls, though. Since I don’t permit nudity, they have to be exceptional athletes. Also, we have a cover change of ten dollars because we’re an emporium and not a bar. It keeps the riff-raff out.”

Wyatt came to the table with a bowl filled with baked potatoes and set it down. “You should check it out, Morgan,” he said. “The dancers can do things on a pole that would cripple us. Of course, they have a great teacher.”

Lo-Lo blushed. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said.

“Lo-Lo won pole dancer of the year at the Miami convention in 2006,” Wyatt said.

“Really?” Morgan said.

“Steaks won’t be ready for ten minutes, why don’t you give Morgan a demonstration,” Wyatt said.

“Sure thing,” Lo-Lo said.

She stood up and walked to the house and flipped a switch to turn on the flood lights. Near the pool, Wyatt constructed an outdoor gym that consisted of pull-up bars, pushup stands, a heavy bag and a twenty-foot-tall dance poll.

Lo-Lo walked to the pole and removed her sneakers. “These jeans are a little tight, but should be okay,” she said.

She gripped the pole.

“Oh, wait, the music,” she said.

Lo-Lo dashed to the table beside the pool and hit a button on the CD player, then returned to the pole.

The theme song from 2001 A Space Odyssey started and Lo-Lo waited for the right note and then glided into an upside down spin.

From there, she flipped, climbed, flipped again, twisted and appeared to defy gravity as she performed for five minutes, ending with a free-fall into a dismount.

“Marvelous,” Morgan said as he clapped. “Simply wonderful.”

Lo-Lo grinned, bowed slightly, turned off the music and returned to the picnic table barefoot.

Wyatt carried the steaks to the table. “Three mediums,” he said.

“We have fresh Key Lime pie and whipped cream for dessert,” Lo-Lo said.

*****

“She’s gone to the club to check on her girls and night manager,” Wyatt said when Morgan came out of the bathroom and found him in the kitchen.

At the chef’s island, Wyatt was shaving ice off a block and spooning it into two glasses.

“You read the files?” Morgan asked as he stood beside the island.

Wyatt replaced the block of ice into the freezer, then opened a bottle Black Maple Hill bourbon and poured two ounces into each glass.

“Let’s go outside and talk,” he said.

Poolside, they took chairs.

“Your reports have no starting point for an investigation,” Wyatt said. “It’s all details without meat. They could be planning a fishing trip for all we know.”

“I know. That’s what I’m asking you to provide, a starting point,” Morgan said.

He took a sip from his glass and looked at Wyatt. “Jesus, this is good.”

“Kendrick could decide to be a good boy and behave himself while in the Keys, did you think of that?” Wyatt asked.

“Leopards and spots, Wyatt,” Morgan said as he took another sip. “But Jesus, this is good stuff.”

“I have an extra bottle; want to take it back with you?” Wyatt asked.

“Yes.”

“What if your CI is wrong and this Kendrick doesn’t show up?” Wyatt asked.

“Then he put a deposit on a rental home on Islamorada for nothing.”

“That wasn’t in the reports,” Wyatt said.

“I couldn’t confirm it until this afternoon,” Morgan said. He dipped into his suit pocket and gave Wyatt a slip of paper.

Wyatt glanced at the paper, folded it and slipped it into his pants pocket.

“My private number and cell is on that paper in case you forgot them,” Morgan said.

“I didn’t.”

“Get something worth the Bureau’s time, Wyatt,” Morgan said. “We’d like to shut this gang of assholes down for good.”

“Are you staying over?” Wyatt asked.

“A B&B on Key West. I thought I’d visit the Hemingway House before I fly back.”

“Want another slice of Key Lime pie before you go?”

“And maybe another shot of this delicious bourbon.”

*****

In the room he set up as an office, Wyatt studied a map of Islamorada and located the street where Kendrick’s rented a home. It sat on a point on three acres of land on the south side of the island.

“Wyatt, where are you?” Lo-Lo called from the kitchen.

“Office. Be right out.”

Wyatt slipped the map into his desk and went to the kitchen.

“I tested the water,” Lo-Lo said. “It’s eighty degrees, want to take a dip.”

“Why not?”

Wyatt opened the kitchen sliding door and flicked the flood light off before they walked to the pool. It was a moonless night, but the six lights on the bottom of the pool were lit and the water shimmered brightly.

Lo-Lo removed her blouse, jeans, underwear and socks, grinned at Wyatt and dove into the water. She swam a lap underwater, came up on the opposite side and looked at Wyatt.

“Come on slow poke,” she said.

Wyatt was down to his underwear, removed them and dove in. He swam to Lo-Lo and they stood in three feet of water against the pool’s edge.

“How was business tonight?” Wyatt asked.

“Packed,” Lo-Lo said. “The six girls’ tonight should clear three hundred each in tips. Both bartenders’ have their hands full. I think one of the girls is dating one of the bouncers. Do we care?”

“I don’t so long as he doesn’t get emotional at work,” Wyatt said.

Lo-Lo looked at Wyatt. “So everything is cool with your ex-boss?”

“He’s staying over to look at a house on Key West,” Wyatt said. “I thought I’d take a ride and meet him for lunch before he leaves for Washington.”

“Remember what I said about lying to me?” Lo-Lo said.

“I remember and you’re getting all worked up over nothing,” Wyatt said.

“It’s taken me forty-one years to find a good man I really love,” Lo-Lo said. “My fear is that you’ll get bored and miss the action of being an FBI Agent. I couldn’t take it if you decided to …”

“The Bureau is getting along just fine without me,” Wyatt said. “You’re idea for the bar has been a big success and I’ve been thinking of starting another business we could do together if you’re willing.”

“What?”

“Charter fishing,” Wyatt said. “Remember that shark you caught that time we went fishing?”

“How could I forget? I was sore for a week and you were a sweetie and rubbed liniment on my neck and back. I knew I loved you then, even though I couldn’t show it at the time.”

“Well, I picked up a boat from an FBI auction for a song,” Wyatt said. “Didn’t even make a dent in my savings. I thought I could apply for a charter license and we could hire out for guests a few times a week.”

“I caught that fish by dumb luck and you know it.”

“We don’t fish, the guests do,” Wyatt said. “All we do is take them out and show them a good time.”

“Did your ex-boss have something to do with this?”

“Only that he tipped me off to the auction.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was saving it for a surprise.”

“Can I drive it?”

“I’ll teach you.”

Lo-Lo wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s neck and softly kissed his right ear. After a few seconds, she whispered, “Hey, quit poking me with that thing unless you mean it.”

“Who said I don’t mean it,” Wyatt said.

“Do you want it with or without?” Lo-Lo asked.

“With or without what?”

Lo-Lo grinned sheepishly. “Chlorine, silly,” she said.

Five

Wyatt left Lo-Lo at the emporium around ten in the morning and drove to the address of the home rented by Kendrick.

It was situated at the end of a long dirt road and sat on three acres of oceanfront property. It was a two-story home situated on hurricane stilts, grey with a pink, staccato roof.

The front yard was sand leading to a rocky coast.

The backyard was overgrown grass.

There was a forty foot dock that was in decent shape.

Wyatt walked to the dock, turned and looked at the house. The windows were protected by plywood boards and he couldn’t see inside, but he knew the type of house and its layout. It was a four bed roomer.

He walked to the end of the dock where there was room to tie a fairly large boat. On the way back to his car, Wyatt checked the real estate agent’s sign and noted the phone number.

From the house, he drove to Key West to the boatyard where the boat he inherited from Katherine Wolfe as part of her witness protection deal five months ago. Wyatt was recruited by Morgan and ATF to work undercover in the Keys to gain information on a girl her went to high school with. When arrests went down, Wyatt, as part of her deal, acquired the bar and boat.

He had some work done to the boat. The brass railings were replaced with teak wood so there would be less polishing. He remodeled to the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom so that he and Lo-Lo could stay overnight on occasion. Also, the seats on deck were recovered in sun resistant vinyl.

The last change was the name.

Previously The Katherine One, the name now read Lo-Lo’s Dream.

Wyatt stopped by the office and asked the manager to have the boat fully gassed and ready to take out tomorrow.

Driving east on Route One, Wyatt stopped by the office of the real estate office that rented Kendrick the house. He parked and went inside.

A plump woman in a too short skirt and white blouse that was a bit too small got up from behind a desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I saw a property for rent this morning and I was wondering if it’s still available,” Wyatt said.

“Did you note the address of the property?”

“I did,” Wyatt said.

He told her the address and the woman frowned. “I rented that one just the other day. Maybe another one might interest you?”

“I was looking for one with a long dock for my boat.”

“That was my last rental with a dock, but I always get new listings. Try back in a few days.”

“I will,” Wyatt said. “Oh, by the way, what were you charging for that listing?”

“Twenty-five hundred a month not counting utilities.”

“Thank you,” Wyatt said.

He drove a few blocks to a donut shop, got a coffee and sat at a picnic table and called Morgan.

“Are you in the air yet?” Wyatt asked.

“An hour from DC,” Morgan said.

“That property Kendrick rented comes with a twenty-five-hundred dollar a month price tag not counting utilities,” Wyatt said. “I figure with electricity, water, cable and food, he’s looking at four grand a month easy. So he has means, or someone else is footing the bill.”

“I’ll see if my CI has any info on that,” Morgan said. “If someone is sponsoring this little junket to the Keys, it may be useful to know who. Who might tell us why. Why could help shut this asshole down. Call me in a day or so. In the meantime, if he shows up, give me a buzz.”

“Morgan, how come these idiots have been allowed to roam free all this time?” Wyatt said. “What did you leave out of the equation?”

“Don’t tell me she’s got you so whipped you’ve grown skittish?” Morgan said.

“Talk like that get’s people hurt, Morgan.”

After a short pause, Morgan said, “I was out of line.”

“You were.”

“Truth is every time a witness does step forward, they disappear,” Morgan said. “And up until now there hasn’t been a shred of evidence to link Kendrick to the missing witnesses.”

“That’s par for the course for these biker gangs,” Wyatt said. “If the local and state police are in bed with them.”

“We have no evidence of that,” Morgan said.

“You have no evidence of a lot of things,” Wyatt said. “I’ll call you in a day or so. Maybe you can find out whom, if anybody is footing the bill for this little vacation package.”

“Talk to you later,” Morgan said.

Wyatt hung up, sat and drank his coffee.

For the FBI to become involved meant the Hell’s Invaders had stepped over the line from state to federal in their alleged crimes. That much was obvious from the reports and the fact that Morgan made the trip to recruit him.

Question was what did the Keys have to offer that Los Angeles didn’t?

Expansion.

Of the club.

For what reason?

Wyatt finished the coffee and drove to the bar where Lo-Lo was rehearsing a new routine on the poles with her girls. He went in the back way and took a seat at the bar and watched as Lo-Lo contorted her flexible body on the center pole.

Standing behind the bar, a two hundred and seventy-pound bouncer named Kendall approached Wyatt.

“Mr. Wyatt, can I have a word with you?” he asked meekly.

“Sure,” Wyatt said.

“Do you see the little redhead on the first pole?” Kendall asked.

“I do.”

“I feel I should let you know that we are seeing each other outside of work,” Kendall said. “Her name is Amy.”

Wyatt looked at Kendall.

“How tall is Amy?” Wyatt asked.

“I’m not sure. Five one, I think.”

“And you?”

“Six foot seven.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Wyatt said.

“So it’s okay with you?”

“As long as your relationship doesn’t spill over to work, it’s none of my business,” Wyatt said. “Just be cool about it.”

“It won’t, and we will,” Kendall said. “Thank you, Mr. Wyatt.”

“Sure.”

Wyatt went to the office where he kept a gym bag under the desk. He changed into shorts, tee-shirt and sneakers and went to the rear parking lot. The sun was warm and the temperature close to seventy-five degrees.

He started with several sets of pull-ups, chin-ups and then pushups. By the time he switched to the heavybag, he was covered in a thin coating of sweat. He worked the bag for thirty minutes, alternating between punches and kicks and was drenched by the time he went into the office for a bottled water.

He drank the twelve ounce bottle at the desk, and then returned to the rear parking lot where he stretched for five minutes. He checked his watch and headed for the woods behind the parking lot.

Wyatt no longer kept track of miles, just time and he ran along the trails in the woods for one hour.

The freedom of running helped him think and gain perspective.

Morgan wasn’t being entirely truthful with him and Wyatt knew that from the moment of the initial phone call. The FBI didn’t waste their time on motorcycle gangs unless there was some serious infraction of federal law.

Morgan didn’t fly into the Keys to ask him to keep an eye on a guy that calls himself Bunny unless there was some serious meat on the bones.

After thirty minutes, Wyatt turned around and took a different trail through the woods back to the parking lot.

Well, Morgan asked him to see what this asshole’s up to, so that was what he’d do. No more and no less. He didn’t need the money, aggravation and most of all the risks involved in working an undercover case against a bunch of violent gangbangers.

Lo-Lo was smoking a cigarette beside the dumpster when he rolled into the parking lot.

She wore neon pink tights and was sweaty from working the pole all morning.

“Is everything ready to open later?” Wyatt asked.

Lo-Lo nodded. “Two bartenders, six dancers and two bouncers.”

“So we don’t need to be around for opening?”

“No. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“A shower and a picnic,” Wyatt said.

“I hope not at the same time,” Lo-Lo said.

Wyatt grabbed the cigarette from between Lo-Lo’s lips and tossed it away.

“Those are …,” he said.

“I know, bad for me,” Lo-Lo said.

Six

Holding Lo-Lo’s right hand in his and carrying a large picnic basket in his left hand, Wyatt steered her along the maze of docks to the boat.

Lo-Lo wore a neon blue, one-piece bathing suit, white shorts, sandals and a wide brim, yellow straw hat. A massive handbag dangled off her left shoulder.

“This has something to do with that boat, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“That could very well be,” Wyatt said as Lo-Lo saw her name on the stern of the boat.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“I could seduce you right here,” she said.

“Hold that thought,” Wyatt said.

He guided her to the gangway and said, “Hop on.”

“You or the boat?”

“One thing at a time,” Wyatt said.

After Lo-Lo walked the short gangway and onto the boat, Wyatt followed.

“I’ll give you the tour,” he said and set the basket to the deck.

They went up the short ladder to the enclosed helm. “This is where you pilot the boat,” Wyatt said.

From there, he took Lo-Lo below.

“There’s a kitchen, bathroom and bedroom,” Lo-Lo said with excitement. “A television, sound system and bar. I can’t believe this.”

“Let’s check the stern,” Wyatt said.

“What’s that?”

“The rear.”

The stern deck had tables, chairs, recliners and seats for deep sea fishing.

Lo-Lo hung over the railing and looked at her name. Then she looked at Wyatt and started to cry.

“I don’t deserve any of this,” she said. “The engagement ring, the bar …”

“Emporium,” Wyatt said.

“Right, emporium,” Lo-Lo said. “And now this boat with my name on it.”

“Deserve is a funny word,” Wyatt said. “It can mean either good or bad. I never thought I would find a woman I would want to grow old with, but that’s what you’ve given me and that’s worth more than rings, boats or bars.”

Lo-Lo hugged Wyatt around his neck.

“There is something I can give you,” she whispered.

“What’s that?”

“A little Wyatt.”

“Hold that thought until we cast off,” Wyatt said.

*****

With Wyatt at the helm, Lo-Lo watched as he backed the boat out of its docking space, reversed gears and guided them out of the yard and out to sea. He drove in slow gear until they were about a mile off the coast, then put it in medium gear and steered east.

“We’ll go out a few miles and then stop for our picnic,” he said.

“Can I drive?” Lo-Lo asked.

“Sure. It’s not much different than driving a car.”

Lo-Lo took the wheel from Wyatt and he pointed to the compass.

“The heading is southeast,” he said. “In about a mile, turn east and keep our speed at medium. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Wait. Right back from where?”

“Just hold our course.”

Wyatt went below and Lo-Lo nervously held the course. She glanced over her shoulder, and then dipped into her massive handbag for a cigarette and hoped Wyatt didn’t return until she finished it.

She had just flicked the butt over the side and grabbed the breath spray from her bag when he came up the stairs.

“Any problems?” he asked.

“Nope.”

He took the wheel and steered south, and locked it in, then put the gear into low speed. “Let’s go down,” he said.

“Who drives the boat?”

“It drives itself.”

Wyatt led Lo-Lo to the deck to the stern. At a table was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne on ice. Next to the bucket was a folder of documents and a pen.

“What’s all this?” Lo-Lo asked.

Wyatt picked up the folder.

“These are applications for our charter license,” he said. “I filled out my end. You need to fill out yours. After you do that, I’ll open the champagne and we’ll have a toast.”

Lo-Lo took the folder and flipped it open.

“It says Lucy Louise Raymond,” she said.

“That’s your name,” Wyatt said.

“Have you ever even once thought about calling me Lucy?”

“No, but I’m not the guy who approves our license,” Wyatt said. “I don’t think he’d buy Lo-Lo as your real name.”

Lo-Lo sat and took the pen. “Lucy Louise, honestly mom, what were you thinking?” she said as she signed the documents.

Wyatt popped the cork on the champagne and filled two glasses. He gave one to Lo-Lo and she stood up.

“To our new partnership,” Wyatt said.

Lo-Lo took a small sip, and then set the glass on the table. She opened the button on her shorts and wiggled out of them.

“Speaking of partnerships,” she said as she slid down the straps of her bathing suit.

*****

Wyatt steered closer to shore on the southern end of Islamorada and scanned the shore for the dock and home rented by Kendrick.

Lo-Lo sunbathed on the tip of the bow below the helm.

Wyatt put the boat into neutral gear and picked up the binoculars. The closest homes to the rented house were five hundred yards on either side. Plenty of room for privacy, he thought. And a dozen motorcycles, parties and whatever else motorcycle gangs did in private.

Had Kendrick seen the property before he rented it? Did someone else see it and recommend it to him?

Lo-Lo sat up and turned to look at Wyatt.

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

“Come up here a minute,” Wyatt said.

Lo-Lo stood and gracefully hopped over the rail and stood next to Wyatt.

“See that house with the dock, I almost rented it six months ago,” Wyatt said. “At the time I thought it was too large for one.”

“It is,” Lo-Lo said. “For two even.”

“I’m thinking when our lease is up in six months, we should think about buying a home,” Wyatt said.

“The one we’re in?”

“Not necessarily,” Wyatt said. “We’re clearing after expenses and salaries about five thousand a week from the club. I haven’t touched the money I cleared from selling my home in DC and my pension is decent enough, so we can upscale if we want to.”

“We as in both our names?” Lo-Lo asked.

“We’d both live there.”

“I think we should talk about sharing one name,” Lo-Lo said. “If we’re going to keep expanding our little empire here.”

“By one name you mean mine?” Wyatt said.

“Unless you want to change yours to Raymond.”

Wyatt stared at Lo-Lo for a moment.

“Am I rushing things?” she asked.

“No.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“If this works for you, I’d like you to scour the Keys for a house that you like,” Wyatt said. “When you find one, we’ll pick a date to get married.”

“I’m in charge of picking the house?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Can it have a pool?”

“Goes without saying,” Wyatt said. “And some room for my gym equipment.”

“You won’t be sorry, Wyatt. I promise.”

“I know,” Wyatt said. “Want to drive us back?”

“Do we have time to try out the bedroom?”

“I assume you don’t mean sleep?”

Lo-Lo turned and stepped on the ladder. “You assume right, big boy.”

She grabbed the handrails and balanced her feet on them and slid down the rails six steps to the deck below.

She looked up at Wyatt.

“Coming?’ she said.

*****

“Any preference on which Key the house will be located?” Lo-Lo asked as she and Wyatt walked in through the rear door of the club.

“Not really,” Wyatt said. “As long as the drive is under one hour.”

“I’ll call some real estate agents in the morning,” Lo-Lo said as she left Wyatt at the office.

Wyatt took a seat behind the desk and searched through the drawers for the set of oceanic maps he tucked away when Lo-Lo came rushing into the office.

“Better get out here,” she said.

Wyatt and Lo-Lo raced out to the bar where the packed crowd had scattered against the walls. The music had stopped and so had Amy who was dancing at the center pole. In the center of the crowd, Kendall was faced off against a man holding a long military knife.

The man slashed out at Kendall with the knife.

“Where’s the other bouncer?” Wyatt asked.

“Eddie’s in the bathroom. He got cut pretty bad,” Lo-Lo said.

“Cops are on the way,” Kendall said to the man with the knife.

“Then I better hurry and get this over with,” the man said.

“Why don’t you just put the knife down,” Kendall said.

“Why don’t you just go fuck yourself,” the man said and slashed out with the knife.

“Ever seen this asshole before?” Wyatt asked Lo-Lo.

“No.”

“Well, you won’t see him again either,” Wyatt said.

He removed his belt and walked up behind the man with the knife. In one quick motion, Wyatt looped the belt around the man’s neck and spun so they were back to back. Then Wyatt bent over and tossed him over his back and the man crashed to the floor.

The man landed hard and before he could react, Wyatt turned and kicked him in the face and the man was knocked unconscious.

It was over in mere seconds.

“Oh my,” Lo-Lo said.

Wyatt bent over, picked up the knife and calmly walked to the bar. “Give this to the cops,” he said.

As Wyatt walked to the men’s room, the crowd broke out in loud applause.

In the men’s room, Eddie, Kendall’s partner was at the sink holding a bloody red towel on his left forearm.

“I’m sorry about this, Mr. Wyatt,” Eddie said. “The guy was shouting insults at the girls all night. He kept screaming for them to strip. In the middle of Amy’s dance, he rushed the stage and made a grab for her shorts. I didn’t see he had a knife until he pulled it on me.”

“Let me see,” Wyatt said.

Eddie removed the towel. The gash was long and deep and blood poured from it.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Wyatt said.

Wyatt opened the door and waved to Lo-Lo and she rushed to him.

“I’m taking Eddie to the hospital,” Wyatt said. “I should be back before closing.”

“The cops are here,” Lo-Lo said.

“Did they bring an ambulance?”

“No.”

Wyatt stepped out and told the two uniformed officers he had to take Eddie to the emergency room, but would stop by tomorrow to give a statement.

“Who is the owner of this place?” one of the officers asked.

Wyatt pointed to Lo-Lo.

“Her,” he said.

*****

Sitting in the waiting room while Eddie was off somewhere with a doctor, Wyatt pulled out his cell phone and called Morgan in Washington.

“Are you in the office?” Wyatt asked.

“Home. Why?”

“I’m sitting in the emergency room waiting room and …”

“Why?”

“One of my bouncers got banged up a bit,” Wyatt said. “Listen, on the three gangbangers headed my way, any wives or kids?”

“It would have been in the reports if there were.”

“Do you have a complete list of every member of the Hell’s Invader’s?”

“As complete as possible.”

“See what kind of medical records these clowns have,” Wyatt said. “Shootings, stabbing, whatever.”

“Looking for?”

“Hospitals keep records of violent crime victims, we know that,” Wyatt said. “But it would be interesting to see how these assholes pay their bills. Cash or insurance. I doubt there is some kind of medical plan for outlaw biker gangs, so maybe we can link any hospital bills to someone financing this happy group and that someone might be …”

“Footing all the bills for the little trip east,” Morgan said. “I knew there was a reason I picked you.”

“You picked me because I happen to be in the Keys,” Wyatt said. “Call me.”

“Give me a day or two,” Morgan said.

“Gotta go,” Wyatt said. “I see my bouncer.”

Seven

Leaning against the edge of the pool, emerged in water to her neck, Lo-Lo looked at Wyatt who was to her left.

“You’re always so sweet to me, I forget how tough you are sometimes,” she said.

“The guy was a bonehead,” Wyatt said.

“That knife was a foot long, but it didn’t bother you in the least,” Lo-Lo said. “Did it? Anyway, while you were at the hospital with Eddie, I started thinking about how sweet you always are to me, even when we first met. I just want to make sure you don’t think I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Advantage?” Wyatt said.

“Yes. If we’re going to be together till death do us part, you need to learn to speak woman,” Lo-Lo said.

“Woman?”

“It’s a separate language men never see to grasp and is usually the root cause of most breakups.”

“Example.”

“Well, for example, if I say yes it sometimes means no and no can sometimes mean yes,” Lo-Lo said. “It’s all in the tone of voice. Maybe always  means definitely no. See?”

“Not really,” Wyatt said. “Anymore?”

“If I say, we need, it really means I want,” Lo-Lo said. “Like if I said we need a new sofa, it means I saw one on sale and I really want it. I’m sorry usually means you’ll be sorry. And if I ever say we need to talk, it means you’re in trouble.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Any others?”

“Well, if you ask to do something like play golf on Saturday morning and I say go ahead, it means you better not. Or if I answer do what you want, and you do, you’ll pay for it later usually after you forgot about it and have no idea why I’m fuming. And if I say I’m not upset, it means I really am. If I say I’m not upset in the least, it means I’m super pissed. See, it’s in code and you need to learn it to make things simple.”

“Code, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Is there a code word for I’m not in the mood?” Wyatt asked.

“I guess you’ll have to fiddle with all the buttons and knobs to find out,” Lo-Lo said sheepishly.

“Knobs?”

“I can show you two.”

*****

Wyatt untangled himself from Lo-Lo’s long legs and quietly got out of bed. He made sure she didn’t wake up and then slipped into the den and sat at the desk. “Code,” he said aloud.

*****

Lo-Lo wandered into the kitchen wearing a sheer satin nightgown and looked at Wyatt who was scrambling eggs.

“Why are you dressed so early?” she asked.

“I’m going to drop off our license application for the boat,” Wyatt said. “Then I’ll be right back. I made you breakfast.”

Lo-Lo took a seat at the table and Wyatt brought her a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. He kissed her lightly on the lips and said, “Be back in about an hour.”

*****

“Wyatt, it’s too soon to have the information on medical records yet,” Morgan said.

Sipping coffee from a takeout container, Wyatt said, “I know. Listen, did you tap his cell phone and email accounts?”

“No. We couldn’t convince a federal judge to issue warrants.”

“I figured,” Wyatt said. “But you don’t need a warrant to scan phone numbers.”

“No. What are you driving at?”

“The real estate agent who rented the house to Kendrick is local,” Wyatt said. “How many phone calls do you think she gets from LA and California? Whoever called her could be the guy footing the bill. You get the number and you get the name of the person making the calls.”

There was a short pause and then Morgan said, “I’ll call you back.”

Wyatt tossed his cell phone on the passenger seat, started the car and drove to the post office to mail the license applications.

*****

Lo-Lo was on the pole in the backyard, dancing to Tainted Love when Wyatt returned.

She didn’t see him as he took a chair at the patio table to watch.

In three quick moves, Lo-Lo was at the top of the pole where she paused for a moment before descending in an upside down twirl that ended with a split-legged landing on the ground.

She noticed Wyatt and grinned. “I didn’t see you,” she said.

“I’m going for a run,” Wyatt said. “Want to go for a boat ride and have lunch? I need to pick up some charts at the Coast Guard if we’re to learn the waters.”

“We need to be back by six,” Lo-Lo said. “I’m dancing tonight.”

“That’s right, it’s Friday,” Wyatt said. “We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

*****

Once past base security, Wyatt parked the Taurus in a visitor’s spot outside the base office.

“I won’t be but a few minutes,” Wyatt said. “The base commander is an old friend of mine.”

“Can I walk around?” Lo-Lo asked.

“Sure.”

Wyatt found the base commander, Captain Ralph Hill in his office.

“I got the charts you asked for,” Hill said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really up to?”

Wyatt took five minutes to bring Hill up to speed “I don’t know if this Kendrick will have the use of a boat, but why else rent a house with a dock? If you can have a cutter or small boat swing by every once in a while and see what they can see, I’d appreciate it.”

“Middle-aged motorcycle gangs, that’s just what the Keys need,” Hill said.

Toting the charts, Wyatt found Lo-Lo near the parade ground where a squad of sixteen was performing close order drill.

“Those rifles are made of wood,” Lo-Lo said.

“They’re training,” Wyatt said. “When they do it for s show or at a parade, they use the real thing. When we get to the boat, you can drive.”

*****

Wyatt took the boat out of the dock and turned the helm over to Lo-Lo when they in open waters.

Wyatt set the course for southeast off the point of Key West and turned on the fish finder while Lo-Lo drove.

Around seven miles off the coast, Wyatt told her to shut down the engines.

“We’re close to the spot where you caught the shark,” he said. “Let’s grab some lunch and then we’ll scout with the fish finder.”

Wyatt brought up the portable grill from below and tossed on steaks and potatoes while Lo-Lo prepared a salad.

“When you went for your run, I made a few calls to real estate agents,” Lo-Lo said as they ate lunch.

“And?”

“I made appointments to see some listings next week.”

“Good.”

“What we didn’t talk about is price range.”

“How much do you have in your savings?”

“Thirty-seven thousand and change.”

“Keep that for emergency use,” Wyatt said. “Look at listings in the three hundred to five hundred thousand range. We want a pool, so it’s probably closer to the five. I can use the money from the sale of my house in Maryland to finance it, so we probably won’t have to use our income from the bar, my savings or pension.”

“I know you do the books and we have that accountant to do the taxes, but I would like to learn the procedure,” Lo-Lo said.

“Good idea,” Wyatt said. “Same for the books we’ll need for the charter business.”

“How is this going to work exactly?”

“Once our license is approved, we advertise around the Keys that we’re open for business,” Wyatt said. “We can have a second line put into the office at the bar and take appointments there. I think we can handle four runs a week without too much trouble. Six to eight guests a run at a hundred and fifty dollars a head adds up to a nice second income.”

“Business cards and fliers, we’ll need those,” Lo-Lo said.

“Do you want to design them?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll need a name for the business.”

“I’ll make a list.”

“No unicorns or rainbows, nothing like that,” Wyatt said. “Most of our guests will be beer-drinking men who love deep sea fishing, so the name of the business has to have some masculine appeal.”

Lo-Lo smirked.

“What?”

“One thing I know how to do is appeal to the masculine ego,” she said.

“I guess you do at that,” Wyatt said. “And that might be good for business.”

“How?”

“Let me think on that for a bit,” Wyatt said. “Right now, let’s go to the helm and scan for some fish.”

*****

Driving east on Route One, Wyatt said, “We’ll be at the club by four thirty. What time do you go on?”

“Seven and ten,” Lo-Lo said.

“Want to grab dinner around seven-thirty then?”

“No later or I’ll be too full for the second show.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Daisy Duke shorts and bikini top for the first show, a neon blue, backless Speedo one-piece for the second,” Lo-Lo said.

Wyatt nodded. “You did well today,” he said.

“I learned a lot about finding fish and the parts of a boat,” Lo-Lo said. “Aft is the rear, amidships is the middle, bow is the front and if you’re looking toward the front, the right side is call the starboard. Oh, and the left is called the port.”

“We’ll go out tomorrow and try to catch some fish,” Wyatt said.

“No sharks. Remember the last time?”

Wyatt pulled into the parking lot of the Emporium and parked in the rear.

“I’m going to change and warm-up,” Lo-Lo said.

While Lo-Lo warmed up in the rear parking lot, Wyatt sat at the desk in the office and thought.

He was thinking about Kendrick when his cell phone rang.

“Wyatt, it’s Morgan,” Morgan said when Wyatt answered the call.

“I was just thinking of giving you a call.”

“Something interesting,” Morgan said. “I’m not sure what it means yet, but it’s interesting. That real estate agent in the Keys, the rental was arranged by a real estate agent in Miami Beach. I have a team running it down right now.”

“Any connection between the two agents?” Wyatt asked.

“They’re running it down right now.”

“I haven’t read the New York Times in years, but they used to advertise out of state listings in their real estate section,” Wyatt said. “I’m sure the LA Times does the same. Maybe Kendrick read an ad for the listing in the out of state section?”

“I’ll check it,” Morgan said. “Anything else?”

“What’s a good name for a charter fishing boat company?” Wyatt asked.

*****

Wyatt sat at the bar and watched Lo-Lo do her stuff on the pole. Seating capacity was three hundred and every table was occupied, as well as stools at the bar. A quick scan of tables showed that at least thirty percent in attendance were woman.

Even the six dancers on duty were gathered at the bar to watch Lo-Lo’s performance.

And she didn’t disappoint.

Wearing her Daisy Duke shorts and bikini top, Lo-Lo performed for nine and a half minutes to Tainted Love and Dog Days Are Over. She drew gasps when she rolled from the top of the pole to inches from the floor that ended in an upside down split and cheers when she walked while hanging upside down and received a standing ovation when she ended with a spiral dismount that ended with a back flip.

“That’s what I call a Goddamn show,” A deep voice permeated above the wild applause and cheers. “Worth every penny.”

Wyatt looked for the source of the voice and zoomed in on Kendrick, Ingstrom and D Block where they stood at a center table. The room was fairly dark, but there was no mistaking them from their photographs, although they were minus their biker jackets and gang colors.

Lo-Lo bowed to the crowd and exited the stage by the side exit that led to the hallway near the office.

Before the emporium opened for business, Lo-Lo decided that since it was to be non-nudity, hands off atmosphere, tip jars would be at every table and at the bar. Tips would be counted at the end of the shift and divided up equally among the dancers. Bartenders would be tipped separately.

Wyatt watched as Kendrick folded a fifty-dollar-bill and inserted it into the slot on the tip jar. Using his cell phone, he took a flash-less photo of Kendrick’s table.

After the crowd took their seats, Wyatt left the bar to meet Lo-Lo in the office.

She had switched out the shorts and bikini top for a bright yellow sundress and sandals.

“I don’t know who looks forward to your act more, the crowd or me,” Wyatt said.

Lo-Lo brushed his lips with hers. “Flattery will get you everything,” she said.