and back to the other shoulder.
Phil nodded, grinning and pointed at Judy.
Judy mouthed “A blouse” and received a thumbs up from Phil. They both looked at Michael and Linda, linked arm in arm against the rail, staring out at the water. Phil took the opportunity to give Judy a warm, wet kiss.
Judy pulled away after a few seconds. “Cocktails, anyone?”
Michael and Linda turned away from the water, toward the younger couple.
“Absolutely!” said Farris. Without hesitation he moved into the salon. A few moments later, he returned, riding a bicycle style ice cream cart that had been skillfully converted to a wet bar, complete with ice and a full supply of liquor. The cart had wooden spoke wheels with bicycle tires and sported a nickelodeon that played when the motorcycle style hand grips were cranked. Farris rolled onto the stern deck with the nickelodeon tinkling its cheery melody.
“Do you ever tire of that tune?” asked Phil.
“Never!” responded Farris. “I associate it with alcohol and I never tire of alcohol.”
Everyone placed their drink orders while Michael mixed them. He always decorated drinks with a bit of fruit, an olive, or a tiny umbrella.
When everyone was served Michael proposed his favorite toast. “To Alcohol.”
As everyone took their seats around the boat, Linda, who could read her husband’s moods almost clairvoyantly, asked, “So what happened?”
Michael looked at Phil, giving him an almost imperceptible nod.
“Someone approached us to see if we could do a little smuggling for him,” answered Phil.
“Then what? What did you say?” questioned Judy, who was immediately intrigued and never reluctant to show her curiosity.
“It happened over at the bar. We picked up his chair and tossed him over the rail.”
“You what?”
“Just picked him up and dumped him overboard. Nothing to it, really.”
Judy gasped and started to laugh. Linda was grinning, too.
“Just picked him up …. And dumped him over the railing?” repeated Judy addressing her question to Phil.
“Yup. Problem was, he was DEA. And he made a date with us for tomorrow just before he hit the water,” added Phil.
“DEA?” said Linda, shock emanating in her voice.
“You threw a DEA agent off the veranda at the bar?” said Judy, almost giggling. “You’re lying … you are making this up … aren’t you?”
“No. It was just the way Phil told it,” said Farris.
“Funny thing was, he didn’t look much like a DEA agent. He was skinny, kind of nervous. A bit of a nerd. He looked like he’d be more comfortable carrying a laptop than a gun,” commented Phil.
“He wasn’t carrying a gun,” said Michael, quietly.
“What about under his arm?” asked Judy.
“No.”
“OK. His ankle. Bet you couldn’t see that?”
“No ankle holster. Nothing in the small of his back, either.”
“No gun, nothing?”
“I think we ruined his cell phone,” said Michael.
That brought a weak laugh from everyone.
“So what do we do?” asked Linda.
Farris looked at Phil, waiting for his decision.
Phil responded. “We either slip out of harbor after dark … or we meet him again tomorrow.”
“Who needs the DEA? Let’s head back to the Bahamas. We’re not under arrest,” said Judy.
“Perhaps we should find out what this is all about,” said Linda in a very businesslike fashion.
“Sorry Babe,” said Phil, his eyes resting on Judy’s face. “I’m voting with Linda.”
“I’m curious as well. Three to one,” said Farris.
“No problem. Tomorrow we meet the DEA. The next day we meet the FBI. Then the next day, we meet the CIA. Fine by me. Sounds like fun. On Saturday we can all get together and eat Alphabet soup.” Judy brought her feet up on the bench seat and hugged her knees. She was clearly troubled.
“Do you think we should all be there, tomorrow?” asked Linda.
“Not me!” answered Judy. “No way Jose! I’m going to be in the parking lot with the car running when the guy arrives. I’ll get a photo if you want, get his plate numbers and run them through to find out if this guy is legit.”
“Good thought,” said Phil. “How will you do that?”
“You know me, hun. I can make my computer dance.”
Chapter 5
The telephone on the desk in Bernie Wheeler’s lavish office rang softly. He was proud of the space he occupied on the fiftieth floor of the magnificent tower complex in downtown Phoenix. Bernie folded shut the appraisal he had been studying when the phone rang and touched the button to connect him to his receptionist. He listened while the receptionist announced his visitor, the architect for a cinema complex on the outskirts of the city.
“Send him in.”
Moments later the architect appeared at the door. Bernie Wheeler rose professionally and walked around his mahogany and marble desk to meet the man in the center of the room. They shook hands and sat down on a soft leather couch behind an oversized coffee table. The architect, casually dressed in designer clothes, rolled out a set of plans including a selection of artist’s concepts for the project.
“Impressive,” said Bernie as he spread the artist’s concepts around the table. “Very nice indeed!”
“This is just a rough draft of our proposal. Phase One is the cinema itself. That will be the drawing card. We’ll have fifteen to twenty theaters. This sketch shows the main entrance to the building. This other one shows a separate, luxurious entrance to a banquet hall, specifically designed for premiere viewings. This hall will be connected to one of the theaters through a private tunnel. The entrance will be designed to allow celebrities to drive up to the door, step out under a fabulous portico and walk through a loving crowd of spectators and paparazzi. Once inside the banquet hall they can enjoy cocktails and hors d’oeuvres prior to entering the theater through the tunnel thus never having to mix with the usual movie crowd. The cost of this extravagance, by that I mean the opulence, of that part of the building will be offset by the free publicity for the project each time a gala premiere occurs and movie stars drive up under the portico.
This phase will use only twenty-five percent of the land. Surrounding the theater will be a dozen restaurants. That’s Phase Two. Some of the tenants will require their own, insignia architecture. Naturally we’ll scrutinize that carefully and incorporate it into a total design concept.”
“Have you talked to marketing to see what the level of interest is for the restaurant tenants.”
“We already have six tenants ready to sign.”
“Well then, let’s do it!” stated Bernie enthusiastically. “You know my rules. Bring it in on budget.”
“We understand your rules extremely well,” said the architect.
“Good. Here’s a little incentive to keep the numbers down,” Bernie stated as he reached for a briefcase beside the coffee table. “Here is one hundred thousand in cash. That should soften up your invoices a bit.”
The architect accepted the case, rolled up his plans and left,