Free Wood's Harbor by Steven Becker Page A

have friends in high places,” the warden said.
    Davies didn’t respond. The warden had a piece of paper in his hand and he knew he was going to paradise. No point blowing it with a smart-ass comment. 
    “Sue,” he handed her the paper, “please get a guard to escort him.” He turned back to Davies. “I wouldn’t trust you to make medical decisions about my goldfish,” he said and turned back to his office. “A Federal Marshall will escort you to the sheriff in Monroe County, who will handle it from there.”
    Davies took a seat and resumed the game while he waited. Things were moving well and with any luck he would be in Marathon tonight. A guard entered the room and the secretary handed him a paper with his instructions. He looked at Davies, who rose, and they walked towards the intake area of the facility. Davies was handed a bag with his possessions and another guard pointed to a restroom. 
    The suit hung off him, at least a size too big now, but the expensive fabric felt good. He walked to the mirror and tied the silk tie, a little surprised that his hands remembered the movement. He deemed himself presentable and left the room. A man in a much cheaper suit was waiting by the guards’ desk. He looked up at Davies and without a word, signed the paper the guard pushed towards him. 
    “Hold out your hands,” the Marshall said, reached behind his back and dangled a pair of handcuffs which he laced around Davies’ wrists, a little tighter than he would have liked. Together they walked out the door into the afternoon sunshine. A curious onlooker might have wondered why they were both smiling. He clutched the legal pad and folder under his arm, enjoying the feel of the suit and the Italian leather on his feet as he walked to the waiting car. 
     Davies held his head high and the Marshall opened the passenger door for him, got into the driver’s seat and started the car. A few minutes later he looked behind him at the prison receding in the landscape. He sat back, hoping if everything went right this would be the last time he saw it. 
     
    ***
     
    “I called in to see what time the ship leaves. Figured I’d get some room service.” Trufante sat on the bed watching TV, eating a giant burger and sipping a beer when Mac emerged from the steaming bathroom. “Got one for you too,” he said.
    Mac went to the table, lifted the lid on the plate and took several large bites.
    “About time you did something useful.” He took another bite. “Don’t suppose you got a beer for me?” He already knew the answer when he saw the empty bottle on the floor.
    “Ship pulls out of here at six tonight. The launches are due back at five.”
    Mac finished the burger. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get a few hours’ sleep on a real bed, and maybe some more food. The chop shop guys had probably recovered the boat and were placated, at least for now. The ship’s security detail would be looking for them, but he expected them to confine the search to the public areas. A room-to-room search would alarm too many people. As long as the occupants of this stateroom were living large in Key West, there was no reason to leave.
    He stretched out on the twin bed and tried to sleep, but the wreck replayed in his mind again. The last thing he heard before he drifted off was Mel scream as she and Armando entered the life raft. 
     
    ***
     
    Norm pulled up to the rental dock and tossed a line to the waiting attendant. Without a word he handed him a five-dollar bill and walked towards the seawall. A lot had happened this morning and he needed a meal and somewhere to sit and think to work things out. He walked towards a cab parked by the marina office and opened the back door, waking the driver in the process. 
    “Duval Street,” he told the man.
    The driver shook the cobwebs from his dreadlocks. “Where be, mon?” the driver asked with a heavy accent.
    “Hog’s Breath,” Norm answered, trying to ignore the smell of weed.
    The