Vertigo Effect: The Eighth Jonathan Shade Novel Page 9

  “Ouch!”

  “I don’t want to be a fire extinguisher,” Esther said.

  “You’re not extinguishing anything. What did you find?” Kelly asked.

  “No sign of Meghan Woodley or Bill Dolan anywhere.”

  “Thanks for looking,” I said.

  “What do we do now?” Kelly asked.

  “We’ll need to find out what’s going on here.”

  “We could go back to the Caribbean,” Esther said.

  “Not if Terrell Williams is a threat,” I said. “Guy tossed me out of the car like I was nothing. If he’s under someone’s control, it could be bad.”

  “It’s definitely supernatural,” Kelly said. “That’s a strike against him right there.”

  “You’ll get another shot at him,” I said.

  “Damn right I will.”

  “I’m a little worried right now,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because anyone who dies and comes back via magic is never the same as they were. There’s always a price and there are always side effects.”

  “You died and came back.”

  “I was dead for a few minutes tops, and while I came back as myself, I also ended up with the ability to see ghosts. When Winslow died, he came back with much stronger magic. He was down for three days. Terrell was dead for nine days.”

  “We know he came back with incredible strength.”

  I nodded. “And what else?”

  “What makes you think there’s more?”

  “I can feel it.”

  “Right,” Kelly said.

  “The old Kelly would have accepted my instinct.”

  “I’m not her.”

  “You’d trust her if she were here.”

  She considered that. “Maybe.”

  “Look, it can’t hurt to assume he’s more formidable.”

  “Fine,” she said. “What do we do?”

  “The production here in Florida wrapped today except for some second unit shots and inserts. Filming starts again Monday in L.A. We need to see if Terrell stays with the crew and goes back to California or goes his own way.”

  “All right. If he says it wasn’t murder, what was it?”

  “Good question. A ritual? If so, who performed it? Was he in on it?”

  “I would lean toward yes since he said it wasn’t murder.”

  “Or maybe he thinks it wasn’t murder because he came back. Does he know how much time has passed?”

  “Hard to say.”

  “More importantly, was it actually Terrell who came back?”

  “I guess we’ll have to ask him.”

  I nodded and wished I’d let Gibson Davies tell me the full story. Sometimes my mouth writes checks my body can’t cash. Not that I expected to change, but it’s good to know your limitations.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Angela frowned when I walked gingerly into the hotel bar. I’d called her and told her to meet me for a drink and an update.

  “What happened to you?” she asked. She took a drink of Moscato.

  I took a stool beside her and carefully sat down. “I fell out of a car. Well, technically, I was pushed, but same difference.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Could be worse,” I said. “I could have been run over.” I tapped the bar and the bartender approached.

  “What can I get you, sir?”

  “Jameson on the rocks,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, sir, we’re all out of Jameson.”

  “What kind of bar is this? In some states, the penalty for running out of Jameson is death. Just so you know.”

  “We had a run on it. Can I get you something else?”

  “I guess I’ll go with a Guinness. Unless you’re out of that too.”

  “I believe we have you covered, sir.”

  “Covered in Guinness?”

  “That would cost extra,” the bartender said and moved to get a glass.

  “He didn’t even smile,” I said.

  “You weren’t funny,” Angela said. “Who pushed you out of a car and why? That’s not in the script.”

  The bartender set the beer down in front of me. I tossed a twenty on the bar, which he took. I sipped the foam that dripped over the side of the glass.

  “Terrell Williams is back.”

  She stared at me. “You’re going to have to repeat that because I distinctly thought I heard you say Terrell is back. Did you mean to say Terrell is black?”

  “That, too.”

  “You saw his body in the funeral home.”

  “Yes, I did. And then I saw him at a Mexican restaurant earlier tonight.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “You’re a wizard, Angela. You know it’s possible.”

  “Then it wasn’t Terrell. He’s been gone for nine days.”

  “It seemed to think it was Terrell,” I said. “Look, I’ve dealt with zombies and the living dead before. I’ve been attacked by an army of skeletons, but they were controlled by spirits from the Underworld.”

  “And you think that’s what’s going on here?”

  “Not likely. But I do want to know what’s really up. I need you to call me if Terrell comes to see you.”

  “You think he will?”

  “You were sleeping with him on a regular basis, right?”

  She nodded. “Semi-regular.”

  “Then if it’s really him, he’ll want to come see you.”

  “He’d better keep his dead dick in his pants.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “He was with Meghan and Bill when I last saw him. Do you have phone numbers for either of them?”

  “Not on me, but I can get them.”

  “They haven’t come back to the hotel, so the sooner we can get those numbers the better.”

  “You want to turn on the GPS to find them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the Terrell zombie take them against their will?”

  “I don’t know what the situation is right now. They might be with him by choice, or they might be his captives. No way to tell.” I figured they were there by choice because they’d pushed Kelly out of the car, but if Terrell wasn’t really Terrell and was instead some supernatural asshole, it might have had enough power to control their minds and actions.

  “I’ll call Ryan,” Angela said.

  “The first AD?”

  She nodded. “He’ll have numbers for everyone.” She took out her phone, scrolled though some names and pressed one. She sipped her wine while Ryan’s phone rang. “Hey, Ryan,” she said. “Angela here. Where are you? Cool. What room? All right. A friend and I will come see you in a few minutes. Great. See you soon.” She ended the call, downed the rest of her drink, then nodded at me. “Shall we?”

  The waiter hadn’t brought me change, but he did put up with me being a dick so I let him keep it. I took one last drink and followed Angela out of the bar.

  ***

  Ryan was one of those guys who always seemed to be in motion. His eyes darted around, his fingers drummed constantly, and his right foot tapped so much it could have starred in a commercial for restless leg syndrome. When he spoke, the words spilled from his mouth quickly.

  “Good to see you, Angela. Yes it is. And you,” he pointed at me. “I’ve seen you on set a few times, and you’re crew, but you’re not really my crew, so you’re second unit, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

  “Jonathan,” I said.

  “Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan,” he said as if trying to embed the name in his frontal lobe. He pointed at the ceiling without raising his arm. “I met Jonathan Winters once, a long time ago when I first moved to California. Only talked to him that one time, but I still cried when he passed away. He was a warm, generous man who made me laugh a lot. Sorry, my mind wanders and I follow it wherever it—squirrel!” He laughed.

  “Quite all right,” I said.

  He looked to Angela as he moved to the chair by the window. He had a
single king size bed in his room. A script lay open on the nightstand with several highlighters and legal pad and pen. The pad had notes scribbled all over it, as did the script.

  “Angela,” he said. “It’s good to see you. Guy wants you to help shoot some scenes with the first unit next week.” He took a deep breath and fired off a never-ending sentence. “We have so much to do in the tanks, and they’re so far behind it’s not even funny, but he wants you to get some special shots so we’ll run through the masters a few times, once with stationary cameras, and once with you following Bill as he makes his way across the water and onto the ship, which could really look cool because we want you to drop below the surface of the water a few times as you go since that will make the audience feel like they’re right there with Bill as he swims.”

  “We can cover all that in meetings on Monday,” Angela said. “Right now, I need to find Bill and Meghan.”

  “So you want me to call them? I can have them come in right away, and—”

  Angela held up her iPad. “I just need their numbers. I can locate them with GPS.”

  “Is that even legal? Seems to me that it might be an invasion of privacy because they wouldn’t know you’re finding them and if the paparazzi got hold of their private numbers, Meghan wouldn’t be able to—”

  “It’s all right,” Angela said. “It’s in their contract. We can use their numbers to locate them whenever we want.”

  “And their agents signed off on that? Doesn’t seem like something they’d want to have in the fine print.”

  “Do you want me to pull their contracts?”

  “No, I trust you.” He picked up a satchel from the floor, and as his leg tap-tap-tapped on the carpet, he pulled out a file folder and ran a finger down a page. He turned the page so she could see it and pointed first at one listing, then at another. “Bill’s number is here. Meghan’s is here.”

  Angela typed them into the app she had on her iPad. “Thanks, Ryan. We’ll get out of your hair now. I know you have a lot of work to do between now and Monday’s meeting.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I have to break down the new pages the writers turned in this morning, and I need to make new schedules because Guy wants to handle some of the shots that Jean would normally have done, and that’s going to cause a shit storm of epic proportions. I really hope I’m not in the room when they go at it because I’d have to try to intervene and that could be hazardous to my chakra alignment.”

  “No worries, Ryan. Thanks again.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, and slipped into the hallway before he could respond.

  Angela was right behind me.

  “Talking to him makes me tired,” Angela said.

  “Has he been smoking crack?” I asked as we moved down the hall.

  “Who knows?” she said. She pointed at the map that appeared on the iPad screen. “Looks like Meghan and Bill are together. They’re in the ocean heading away from the coast.”

  “Want to go on a night boat ride?” I asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The production company had two boats rented out for the duration of the shoot. The craft were due to be returned on Monday, though they had a hold for an extra week in case of weather. Angela drove us to the marina. Kelly sat in the back with Esther, who remained invisible.

  We parked, and as I got out of the car, I adjusted my shoulder holster. I brought my Glock. Kelly had a few knives, and who knows what else tucked away on her person. She gracefully slid from the car and headed toward the marina docks. Esther passed through the car and moved close to me. “You should wait until morning,” she said.

  I shook my head and Esther rolled her eyes.

  “Fine,” she said, “let’s get a wiggle on.”

  We moved along the docks. The air was warm and humid, the sea salt scent thick in the soft breeze. Waves lapped against the breakers. Plenty of boats were tied off in the slips, but few had any lights on. People might live aboard, but none of them were in sight as we followed Angela to our destination.

  “Looks like they took the speedboat,” Angela said as we walked down the dock toward the slips. “That twenty-three foot bowrider at the end is ours, but I don’t have a key, and the marina office is closed.”

  “Will they have an extra key in there?” I asked.

  “They should. It’s a rental.”

  “Then let’s go get it,” I said. We walked to the office. I pulled out my billfold, and removed my lock-picking tools. There was a time when I really sucked at picking locks, but I’d studied to get the touch. I inserted the tools, twisted them around a bit, and realized I was out of practice.

  “Might want to speed it up,” Kelly said.

  “I’m working on it,” I said. “It’s been a while.”

  “I can break the lock,” she said.

  “Patience is a virtue.” I jiggled the tools and finally heard the click of the lock. With a smile, I pushed the door open. “And voila.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “Do they have an alarm?” Esther asked.

  I shrugged. It didn’t matter. We’d be gone before anyone could get here. A couple staggered out on one of the yachts in a far slip, but they were drunk and loud. They didn’t pay any attention to us. Good.

  Angela used the flashlight on her phone and went inside. “Wait here. If anyone comes, let me know.”

  A few minutes later, she returned with keys in hand. We walked down the docks. Spider webs stretched from various posts to the boats tied off in the slips. We reached the bowrider and climbed aboard. Kelly and I untied us from the cleats, while Angela fired up the engine. We joined her at the wheel.

  “The sea is pretty calm tonight,” Angela said, “so we should be okay, but we’ll need to be careful. I’ll try to throttle the nose up so we don’t scoop too much water with the bow.”

  I wasn’t a boat guy, so I had no idea what she meant. “Um, okay,” I said.

  “And we’re off,” Angela said, easing the throttle along.

  She puttered out of the slip, and maneuvered out to the open sea. As soon as we were away from the marina, she turned down the ambient lights. The boat moved slowly into the night waters. I opened her iPad and checked the location of the phones. They were stationary fifty miles from shore. On a whim, I entered their numbers into my phone. Better to have them and not need them than need them and not have them.

  “Give me the coordinates, and I’ll chart our course.”

  I gave them to her. After entering the numbers, she placed a towel over the chartplotter to cut down on the light so our eyes could adjust. Night vision relied on not having much light nearby.

  “Dim the courtesy lights,” Angela said.

  “You got it,” I said and turned them down.

  “Now that we’re out here, I’m thinking this was a mistake,” Angela said. “I’m fine with driving a boat in the daytime, but night is a completely different animal.”

  “You’re doing great,” I said. “I just don’t think we should wait until morning.”

  “What the hell are they doing at sea?”

  “When we get there, we can ask them,” Kelly said, and joined Esther on the bow to keep lookout. She kept her eyes on the horizon.

  The boat cruised along just below planing speed. Angela didn’t want to risk going too fast at night. Visibility was low, and that raised the danger level.

  We passed a bell buoy that seemed bigger until we were right on it. The night was deceptive.

  Angela maintained our heading as best she could, occasionally moving the towel to check our position on the chartplotter.

  The hours crept by as we maintained a steady speed out to sea.

  “I see lights on the horizon,” Kelly said.

  That was news because from our vantage point, we couldn’t have seen land in any direction even at high noon. The curvature of the earth meant that even with binoculars or a telescope aimed at the hor
izon, we wouldn’t even be able to see the highest buildings in Miami without getting at least ten miles closer to them. It was after midnight so there was even less to see, and with the cloud cover, we didn’t even have the amazing star view.

  I opened the iPad, which had a GPS built in, so while I couldn’t hop online, I could still see where we were on the map, and sure enough, we were closing in on the coordinates. “Slow down,” I said. “That’s them.”

  Angela nodded, and adjusted our speed and course. The motor revved lower. We came up on the speedboat. It gently rocked in the water and looked empty. We pulled alongside, and Kelly jumped across to tie us off.

  “There’s no one here,” she said.

  “I see lights underwater,” Esther said.

  I moved to the bow beside her and looked down. Sure enough, lights bobbed beneath the surface. I couldn’t tell how far down they were. “They must be diving for something.”

  Angela helped Kelly tie us to the speedboat.

  “Esther,” I whispered. “Can you go down there and see what’s going on?”

  “In the ocean?”

  “Yes. It’s not like you can drown or anything.”

  “I don’t like dark places.”

  “Go to the light. See what’s what.”

  She frowned and shook her head.

  “I’ll owe you,” I said.

  “And how.”

  Angela glanced over at me. “Are you talking to yourself?” she asked.

  “Usually,” I said.

  “Fine. I’m going,” Esther said. She stepped over the side of the boat and drifted down into the deep, dark Atlantic.

  “They have the fish finder on,” Kelly said from the other boat, “but I’ll be damned if I know how to read it.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Angela said. “You’re lucky I know how to drive one of these things.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can drive a boat just fine,” I said. “Docking it? That’s another story.” I hopped over to the speedboat. The boats bumped against each other and bobbed back and forth.

  “Can you read this?” Kelly asked pointing at the fish finder.

  The screen was blue with a bunch of colored jagged lines. It looked like a bad video game from the seventies without any players. “I got nothing,” I said.