Fry Another Day

We drove slowly through the dark city. There were some bars and nightclubs still open, but mostly Mobile wasn’t a party town—except during carnival. There weren’t a lot of people on the street. Traffic was light.

I wished we had a big searchlight mounted on the side of the taxi. Some of the areas were too dark to see into the nooks and cra

I got a call from Patti, relayed by Ollie to Cole’s phone. A police officer had stopped at a convenience store for a soda. He thought he might have recognized Tina and Marsh.

“He said they were driving an old blue Mustang. He had the license number. The police are following up on that,” Patti told me.

“Any word on Miguel or the Mercedes?” Not to be ungrateful for the update, but I was a lot more concerned about Miguel than what happened to Tina and Marsh.

“I have dozens of officers checking the city,” she replied. “We’ll find him, Zoe.”

“Thanks.”

“Why is Ollie answering your phone?”

“He didn’t have one. I tried to spread the phones out so everyone had one. Chef Art’s men had their own.”

“Chef Art Arrington? What does he have to do with this?”

I quickly explained that we thought we’d stand a better chance with Chef Art’s security team if each group had someone who could recognize Miguel.

I thought she might be a

I agreed and thanked Cole for the use of his phone. We were driving very slowly through some terrible neighborhoods once we got close to the docks.

During the day, these areas were populated with snack food vendors and antique dealers trying to make a quick buck from the cruise ship passengers getting on and off the big ships.

I had brought the Biscuit Bowl down here a few times, but the money wasn’t as good here as it was by police headquarters, the courthouse, and other areas farther into the business district of the city.

“It’s dark as blackstrap molasses down here.” Cole squinted into the blackness. He had his window open as we cruised slowly by the warehouses and port offices.

“If you were going to dump a car”—I swallowed hard on the word dump—“where would you do it?”

He thought about it a few minutes before answering. “I’d take it down near the cruise ship berths. People work down there twenty-four-seven now with the ships going in and out all the time. Who’d notice another car?”

“And a dead body?” My voice trembled as I asked.

He shrugged. “The bay. That’s always been the best place to get rid of someone.”

I pulled myself together and assured myself that Miguel wasn’t dead. We needed to find his car, and that would lead us to him.

“Okay. Let’s check out those parking areas.”

Cole was right about a lot of cars being parked down there. It was impossible to simply scan the parking lots and decide if a black Mercedes was there. We had to drive slowly between the rows of vehicles and check each one.

It was taking forever, and I was getting impatient. It had already been an hour since we’d split up. Anything could happen in an hour.

At least there were streetlights. Their weird orange glow made everything look like something out of a horror movie. At each turn, I looked for zombies or some other supernatural creatures.

I could tell Cole was uncomfortable, too, despite his nonchalant demeanor. He slowly closed his window and peered out from behind its meager protection.

“Look there!” I pointed to a black Mercedes. “I think that could be Miguel’s car!”

Cole pulled over close to it, slowly and carefully. I compared the license plate—there were no other distinguishing marks—and knew that it was the right one.

“We should call everyone,” he said. “We shouldn’t try to do this alone, Zoe.”

“But what if he needs us before everyone else can get here?” I was already getting out of the car.

“Okay. I’ll call Saul. He can call everyone else. At least wait for me.”

I ran toward the Mercedes.

The car was locked. I wasn’t sure how we were going to get inside it. I looked at the trunk. How many times had I seen dead bodies stuffed in trunks in the movies and on TV?

“Do you think the tire iron can open the trunk?” I asked Cole when he finally caught up.

He was glancing around the parking lot with a baleful eye. “Probably. Yes. But your Miguel won’t like it if we pry it open. Best to wait for the cops.”

“Give me the tire iron. I’ll open it.”

He argued with me for a few minutes, but it was halfhearted. He didn’t want to use the tire iron on the trunk, but he really didn’t care if I did it. He finally handed it to me and stood back.

Before I could use it, Cole’s cell phone rang. He answered it in a low tone and then handed it to me.

It was Ollie. “If you find the car, I saw Miguel take a key out of a magnetic case once when he was representing me. It’s next to the front driver’s side, under the car.”

I gave the tire iron, and the phone, back to Cole. I felt a little out of the loop—I didn’t know Miguel’s home address or that he kept a key under his car.

I had to remind myself that we were just starting our relationship. I’d learn these things as we went along. He knew so much more about me than I knew about him. It was the basic difference in our personalities. If you knew me for five minutes, you knew everything about me. Miguel was harder to know.

All these stupid things raced through my mind as I used my hand to search for the key under the car. The orange lights above us made me feel like I was in a bad science fiction movie.

The parking lot was gritty and wet under my knees. The smell of the bay was strong, mixed with the smell of the fuel they used for the ships. I was weirdly cold, even though the night was hot and humid.

Cole and I walked back to the trunk. I was reluctant to use the key I’d found, even though I’d been willing to pry it open only a few minutes before. Part of me hoped Miguel was there. The other part of me said this could be a very bad thing.

Two black SUVs pulled up, along with a Mobile police car. The siren wasn’t on, but the blue lights on top were flashing.

“Open it,” Cole urged me. “If he’s still alive, he might need help right away.”

I nodded and popped open the trunk, holding my breath.

I could see it wasn’t empty. There was a dim trunk light that faintly illuminated the space. Something was in there, wrapped in a tarp.

I reached my hand down and rolled it over. Please don’t be dead!

It was Miguel—and Tina. Their hands and feet were duct-taped together, and there was tape on their mouths.

My heart stopped beating. I could barely breathe. I put my hand on Miguel’s chest. He was alive—unconscious, but alive.

“Get me an ambulance out here!” Patti shot back to one of her uniformed officers.

I hadn’t even noticed she was there.

“Step aside, Zoe. Let us get them out.”

– – – – – – –

They pulled Miguel and Tina carefully out of the trunk and untaped them. Neither one of them was moving. The paramedics examined them, slowly removing the tape from their mouths.

“Looks like someone hit him on the head,” the lead paramedic said. “He’s out of it, but he’ll probably be fine. They’ll want to do some tests on him at the hospital to be sure.”

“But he’ll wake up, right?” I asked.

“He should. It’s a good thing you found him out here. The heat tomorrow could’ve finished him off.”

Tina was alive, too. She’d been strangled. There were terrible bruises on her throat.

They took Miguel away on a stretcher and put him in the back of the ambulance. I watched the vehicle speed away out of the parking lot and up the street until I couldn’t see it anymore.