SS 18: Shark Skin Suite: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

to turn; his eyebrows jackknifed. He huddled with the others.
    “You serve her.”
    “I’m not going to serve her. You serve her.”
    “Are you crazy? . . .”
    She settled onto a stool at the far end. A salesman quickly moved to the stool next to hers and offered a drink. She slowly turned toward him. He abruptly left the building.
    “What are you guys afraid of?” asked the newest bartender.
    “That’s Molly.”
    “Who’s Molly? . . .”
    The TV over the bar flashed a news bulletin. “ . . . Authorities are looking for this man . . .”
    Molly’s hand swiftly went into her purse.
    “Change the channel! Change the channel! . . .” yelled one of the bartenders.
    Trembling fingers fumbled with the remote and clicked coverage over to a Belgian soccer game. Molly withdrew her empty hand.
    “I still don’t know who Molly is,” said the clueless bartender.
    “Serge’s wife.”
    “Serge has a wife?”
    “Been separated almost a decade, but she refuses to sign the divorce papers. Whatever else you do in this life, don’t mention his name . . .”
    B ack on Big Pine Key:
    “Coleman!” Serge jumped up. “That’s right! We left that idiot in the Million Dollar Bar on Truman. See, that’s the thing about my A-tour of Key West. Coleman’s all cool with it at the beginning, but then, ‘I just need to lie down a minute,’ like when we lost him in the cemetery.”
    “And I found him snoozing between those crypts,” said Brook. “You’d have thought those ant bites would have woken him up.”
    “Not when he goes to the dark side.” Serge flipped open his cell. “So I figured we’d straighten him up with some café con leche and get him to the Million Dollar. At least I could count on him staying put there . . . Damn, he’s not answering his phone.”
    “Why do they call it the Million Dollar?” asked Brook. “It’s just a small locals’ dive.”
    “Believe it or not, that’s what real estate goes for down there.” He dialed again. “Hello? Who’s this?”
    “Don. Who’s this?”
    “Serge. Is Coleman there?”
    “Yeah, he’s resting.”
    “Where?”
    “On the pool table.”
    “I need to talk to him.”
    “Me, too. You know how hard it is getting urine out of green felt?”
    Serge covered his eyes. “I’m good for it. Listen, can you get him in a cab for the Old Wooden Bridge? And pin a note on his shirt saying there’s an extra key to cabin five waiting for him in the office.”
    “I want him out of here more than you do.”
    “I can understand,” said Serge.
    “No, you can’t. Molly’s here.”
    “Molly! What’s she doing there?”
    “How should I know? She’s your wife. You almost owed me a new flat screen.”
    “Has she seen Coleman?”
    “Hell no! I got Lubs and Boomer at the pool table shielding her view until Mike can drag him out the back.”
    “I’ll make it up to you,” said Serge.
    “Expect a bill from the pool-table people.”
    The phone went dead.
    Serge heaved a breath of frustration and turned around.
    Brook was staring. “Who’s Molly?”
    “My wife?”
    “Your wife !”
    “Separated for years. Won’t sign the papers.” Serge grabbed his room key. “The important thing is they’re retrieving Coleman.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “I have to get out of here.”
    “But we’re not supposed to show our faces,” said Brook. “You keep checking out the blinds.”
    “Cabin fever is the natural enemy of strategic judgment. Plus there’s a really cool place I want to show you!”
    He opened the door.
    “Serge, there’s a tiny deer waiting at the bottom of the steps.”
    “It’s one of the endangered miniature Key deer that only live on Big Pine and No Name Key.”
    “He seems to know you.”
    “His name’s Sparky. He likes Cheetos.” Serge petted the deer on the head as he went past. “You’re not supposed to feed or touch them, but those big eyes wear you down.”
    He led her along the isolated street in growing