Skip: Samuel Wyatt Wilson Series (Volume 1)

Skip: Samuel Wyatt Wilson Series (Volume 1) by Stan Meihaus

A story of crooked bankers, sexy criminals, fraud, deception, fishing, and of course: murder...

Standing in front of the beer cooler at the Blue Parrot Marina, Bar and Grille, I heard a voice from the past call out my name. It startled me; I turned around, and there she stood. Allison Hicks, in all her tanned, long-legged, high-breasted loveliness. Her sandy blonde hair was a little longer than I remembered, and maybe she had put on a few pounds, but she had been super-model skinny and it looked good on her. She was wearing khaki shorts and a short t-shirt which showed off her taut mid-section. She had a small silver stud in her belly button, a new addition. “Surprise!” she said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Sam?” “Five years, at least,” I said. “What are you doing here? Last I heard the FBI wanted to have a chat with you.” She looked around, then took my arm and guided me into a corner. She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure about that,” she said. “In fact it’s why I came here to talk to you.” I looked at her, confused and a little alarmed. I thought this was some kind of accidental run-in. “What? You came here to see me? What for? How did you know I would be here?” I said. “Well, a friend of mine at the bank told me that you lived up here at the lake, they didn’t know where, but you kept your boat at the Blue Parrot. I thought I’d give it a shot. I tried to call you but you’re not in the book.” I used to keep my boat at the marina until I built a dock at the house last summer. And I did have an unlisted phone number. “OK, so why do you want to see me?” I asked. “I’ve been pining away for you all these years,” she said teasingly. “I just couldn’t stay away any longer.” “Very funny,” I said. I don’t think I sounded overly friendly. Her expression softened instantly. “Sam, look, I’m sorry about what happened back then. I feel awful about it. Give me a chance to explain, okay?” “It’s no big deal,” I said. “I’d pretty much forgotten about it. So if that’s what you came to see me about, we can just let bygones be bygones.” “Well,” she said, “to be totally honest, I wanted to talk to you about this whole mess with Cliff. I thought you might be able to help me with…” she said. “Allison, if you came here looking for help in running from the Feds, I’ve got bad news for you…” “I’m not running from the Feds,” she insisted. Just then a couple of fishermen came into the marina and headed for the bait tank. They ogled Allison appreciatively; one of them tripped over the pork rind rack and almost fell down. His buddy laughed at him. Allison drew nearer. “Look, can we go somewhere private and talk about this?” she said. “Somewhere private?” I said. “Allison, you may have developed amnesia about all this, but I haven’t. The last thing I need right now is trouble with the FBI, just so you and I can relive the good old days.” “You’re not going to get into any trouble just talking to me,” she said. “In fact, I’m not even sure I’m in any trouble. I had nothing to do with taking that money.” “You’re telling me you’re not wanted by the FBI?” I said. “That’s what I want you to help me figure out,” she said. “You don’t need me for that,” I said. “Just call them up and say ‘hey, this is Allison Hicks, is there a warrant outstanding for my arrest?’” “Sammy, it’s not as simple as all that. I want to tell you what happened with Cliff and the money, and I need some advice on what to do. Can we please go somewhere and talk about it?” “I swear I don’t know what help I can give you,” I said. “I mean, I’m not trying to be hard about this, but it’s your hand, you know? You dealt it, you have to play the cards.” “I’m not asking you to play my cards,” she said. “I just need some advice from somebody who has experience in these things.” “I can give you the name of a good lawyer,” I said. “There’s a guy I used to work with at the bank, he went out into private practice and…” “I don’t want a lawyer right now, least of all a stranger,” she interrupted. “I wouldn’t have come to you but I’m running out of options. If you hear me out and still don’t want anything to do with me, I promise I’ll get out of your hair.” Her voice trembled a little and her eyes were tearing up. A cautionary voice in my head was saying, don’t get near her, she was trouble the last time and she’s even more trouble now. But the voice was quickly drowned out by Allison’s blue eyes. And the curve of her hips. And the rise of her breasts. And the memory of the time we had spent together. I tried one last time, lamely, to say no. “I have plans today,” I said. “I have a friend coming over to help me do some work on the house.” “Fine,” she said quickly, “what about tonight? I could come by your house.” There was a moment of silence, for the death of my prudence, I suppose. “All right,” I said. “You can come over tonight. I’ll listen. But I meant what I said, Allison. I’m not helping you run from the Feds. If you’re in trouble with them, you’re on your own.” She thanked me effusively. I gave her directions to the house and my phone number. She promised to be there about 7:00. She gave me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, went out the side steps to the gravel parking lot, got into a white Chrysler convertible, and drove off. I paid for the beer and a few other groceries and went down to the docks. The boat was all washed up and ready to go, so I tipped the kid a couple of bucks and got in. Dean, the owner of the Blue Parrot, waved a wrench at me from another boat but didn’t speak. I would be surprised if he had. I’ve known him all my life and he’s barely said three sentences to me. Typical mechanic—grubby, ragged and tight with words. But he can fix anything that’s wrong with a boat. I fired the boat up and eased out into the no-wake zone. I must have been pre-occupied with Allison, because I barely noticed a big white yacht next to the marina, anchored back in a cove protected by pine trees on three sides. I caught it out of the corner of my eye as I was passing it, and thought, damn, that’s a big boat for this lake. But then I was past it, out of the no-wake zone, and I forgot about it. If I had been a little more alert, I might have noticed that the yacht was positioned to have a perfect view of the marina and the parking lot. Or I might have seen the huge pair of nautical binoculars resting on a deck table. Or the captain of the boat, leaning on the railing of the fly bridge, dispassionately watching me go by. Continues...