Free Killer Listing by Vicki Doudera Page B

Darby would make more than enough money to lend her friend the amount required.
    “Listen,” she told ET. “You and I can do this if we keep all the bases covered. What’s going on there? Is there anything I need to know?”
    He exhaled. “The O’Hara estate. I’m close to getting an offer, and I hope I will have good news soon. Everything else is moving along.”
    “That’s great. Here’s what I’m thinking. See if you can find out how I can get a license to work with a buyer here in Florida. I’ll do my best to land this deal and get you what you need. Even if the sale doesn’t work out, you can count on me.”
    He thanked her, and she could hear emotion in the usually calm man’s voice. What was going on? Why such a huge sum of money? Darby wasn’t going to pry. She trusted ET implicitly. Whatever he needed, she would get him—no questions asked.
    _____
    Clyde Hensley cracked open a beer and took a long swig. The sun was merciless and the humidity still high, but the cold pungent taste of the beer never failed to help. This isn’t such a bad way to spend the time , he thought, in between higher paying jobs. Gets me out of the house and away from my computer. He gave a half-hearted glance at Lisa and Dylan, still soaring hundreds of feet in the air. Time to bring them down , he thought. As soon as I finish this beer.
    One led to another and Clyde decided he’d better start the process of bringing the couple down before he fell asleep in the sun or ran out of gas. He hit the button on the automatic winch and the machine began grinding its motor, pulling the parachute and the couple closer to the boat. They had certainly gotten their money’s worth, Clyde thought. What with the sun and the pleasure of drinking a few beers, he’d left them up there for longer than usual.
    Clyde’s thoughts drifted to food. He was hungry, and the wad of twenties in his pocket meant he could treat himself to something good for dinner. Snapper, maybe. Grilled with a little butter on his neighbor’s gas grill …
    Over the groaning sound of the winch, Clyde heard a loud ping—the unmistakable sound of snapping cable. “Shit!” he spat, glancing up toward the sky. Yes, the cable had snapped like the string on a kid’s balloon, and his customers were already floating away from the boat, carried now by the currents of a stiff breeze toward the shore.
    Clyde yanked the wheel of the boat hard. The broken cable was now slithering towards him like an angry water moccasin, and Clyde turned off the winch and hauled it in. He gunned the engine as fast as it would go, racing back toward the pier where he had left the trailer earlier in the day. His mind was a whirl of questions: Would he have time to get the boat out? Would he find anyone to give him a ride? Had he left anything, other than his vehicle, at the marina? He opened the cooler where two beers remained. The release form Dylan and Lisa had signed was in the corner, a soggy mound of disintegrating paper. He exhaled with relief, ripped it to shreds, and threw it in the water.
    Still blasting through the water with the motor at top speed, Clyde rummaged in a compartment and pulled out his lucky Dolphins cap. He shoved it on his balding head and used one hand to hold it secure. The pier was only minutes’ away, and he was starting to feel calmer. He could figure this out, just as he had before. He took a deep breath. Plenty of time.
    _____
    Near & Farr Realty was a pleasant storefront office on the main street of Serenidad Key, next to a bakery and a travel agency. Tropical plants bloomed in the small waiting area, and Darby smiled as Helen absentmindedly picked a few spent blossoms from a flowering hibiscus. A petite woman with short black hair rose from a desk as Helen entered.
    “ Hola , Helen,” she said in a lilting voice. She wore a short sleeved white blouse and a red skirt that draped to just above her knees.
    “ Hola , Maria.” She nodded her head toward Darby.