whose walls were covered with oil paintings and hunting prints, and they entered a spacious corner room lined, floor to ceiling, with bookcases. A pair of wide bay windows overlooked the bluffs, and the two men stood watching as six-foot swells pounded the rocky coast. The storm was definitely building.
“I can sit in this room and stare at the sea for hours at a time. It fascinates me. I wouldn’t go out on it on a dare, mind you, but it’s something to look at.” As if suddenly aware of the significance of this speech, Pepper sighed heavily.
Rosco turned to face him. “I’m like you . . . I don’t do well on the water.”
“It just drives me crazy thinking that my Genie could be floating around lost somewhere . . . I mean, look at this stuff . . . How long do you think it would take before—”
“I have a lot of confidence in the Coast Guard, Mr. Pepper,” Rosco interrupted gently. “I’ve seen them handle similar situations in the past. If your wife is out there, they’ll find her.”
Pepper’s response was close to explosive. “I don’t want to hear about the damn Coast Guard! I tried to maintain an open line to those SOBs and some ‘chief petty officer’ cut me off. Told me he’d call when he got something. That’s why I phoned you. I don’t know where to turn at this point.”
“These rescue situations can be a communications nightmare for the Guard. They need every phone line they have.”
“What the hell good does that do me?”
“Well, sir—”
“Cut the ‘sir’ bunk, Rosco. I want my wife back. And I want the man who rented her that damn boat drawn and quartered . . .” He finished his drink and glanced down at the shrunken ice cubes. “You know, she had a premonition . . . And I . . . I laughed at it . . . Laughed at her! . . . My little Genie . . . !” His voice cracked with emotion while he struggled to pull himself together. “She’s an excellent sailor, you know . . . She and Jamaica both are . . .” Pepper poured himself another hefty Scotch and dropped his tall frame into a dark green leather club chair. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw so tightly clenched his face muscles popped dramatically from under his skin.
“What should I do, Rosco?”
“Do you mind if I sit?” Rosco asked.
“Do whatever you want. Get a drink if you’d like it . . .”
Rosco sat on a couch covered in the same dark leather as the chair. The hide creaked, giving off the luxuriant aroma of an expensive car’s interior or of matched luggage in an upscale shop. “I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to push the Coast Guard, Mr. Pepper,” Rosco said as he pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from his breast pocket. “But why don’t you fill me in on this trip your wife planned. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“What do you want to know?”
“You’re a member of the Yacht Club . . . I take it you own a boat?”
“Genie does.”
“Why did she charter one, then?”
Pepper sighed deeply. “Hers is a racing sloop. It’s stripped for speed. The barest galley, boards for berths . . . It’s not for pleasure cruising . . . Not Jamaica’s style.”
“Who did your wife charter it from?”
“Mystic Isle Yachts.” Pepper sat up straight in his chair, his eyes fiery and hot. “That’s where I want you to start. I want blood from Mystic’s owner. I want him to rot! He set my wife up in a death trap, and I want him to pay big time.”
“What exactly happened, do you know?”
“How could I . . . ? All I know is that some fishermen found the Orion somewhere in Buzzards Bay. They towed what was left of the boat back to Mystic Isle Yachts . . . Then someone phoned the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard called me. Apparently the Orion’s inflatable tender hasn’t been found.”
“I know this is tough, Mr. Pepper, but I wouldn’t give up hope. Until they find that tender, there’s a very strong, very strong possibility that the women are still alive.”
Pepper stood and pointed at the bay window. “Look at those swells, Rosco. The water temperature’s already down to fifty degrees. Could you hang on in a four-foot rubber boat? Huh? Could you? Look at the size of