Windfall Page 0,7

wasn't so sure about any of that. Especially the style and class.

Maria the Ghost sporadically nattered on with John in bright, liquid French.

John was multilingual, which surprised me for some reason. They seemed easy together. Old friends? Current lovers? Couldn't get a read. I made up dramatic scripts in my head, in which John flew over the Atlantic to sweep Maria off her feet in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and the two of them ran around Europe getting into wacky, farcical mistaken-identity bedroom adventures.

Hey, I was bored.

Three and a half hours later, the Lexus made a right turn off the highway, and I started seeing signs of damage. We were entering the area where Tropical Storm Walter had blown in two nights ago. It had been a really bad hurricane season, and even though we were winding down, nobody felt very secure about it. The damage was mostly superficial, it looked like-shredded palm fronds, blown-down fences, the occasional busted sign or toppled billboard. Cleanup crews were out.

Power had already been restored, for the most part. The beach looked clean and fresh, and the surf curled its toes in calm little foaming wavelets over the sand.

We drove about another fifteen minutes, and then John pointed off to the left.

Maria slowed the Lexus, and we passed a partially downed sign with construction information on it. PARADISE COVE, it proclaimed, presented by Paradise Kingdom LLP. With a whole bunch of subcontractors, like the special effects cast of a big-budget movie. The artist's rendering on the sign was of a hotel about fifteen stories tall, avant-garde in shape.

It was a hell of a lot more avant-garde now, because what lay behind the sign was a mass of twisted metal and slumping lumber. Looked like a war zone.

Construction materials had been scattered around like Legos after playtime for the emotionally disturbed.

Maria put the Lexus in park.

All three of them looked at me.

"What?" I asked. I was honestly puzzled.

"Tell us what you know about this," John said.

"Well, I'm no expert, but I'd have to say that between this and the Motel 6 down the road, I'd have to choose the Motel 6..."

"I'm serious."

"Hell, John, so am I! What do you want me to say? It looks trashed." I suddenly had a flash. It wasn't a pleasant one. "This is what they were talking about on the news. The freak damage from Tropical Storm Walter."

"This is it."

"Okay... and you think I know about it because... ?" They all exchanged looks, this time. Nobody spoke. I rolled my eyes and said it for them. "Because you think I did this. Grow up, guys. Why would I? The Wardens have made it really clear that if I screw around with the weather, somebody like good old Shirl here will come around and put me on Drool Patrol. I mean, I don't really like the architectural styling, but I don't feel that passionate about buildings."

Predictably, it was John who jumped in. "Right at the present time, there are fewer than ten Wardens in Florida," he said. "Somebody directed the storm. We recorded the shift."

"Well, talk to the hand, because it wasn't me."

Another significant look that didn't include me. John said, "Are you sure that's your answer, Jo?"

"Hell yes, I'm sure. And you're starting to piss me off with this crap, John. Why would I do a thing like this? Why would I risk it, first of all, and why would I pick on this particular section of coast?"

"It's close to where Bob Biringanine's home once stood," Maria the French Ghost observed.

"So, what, I have a grudge against a dead man? Don't be ridiculous."

I was starting to sweat. I mean, this wasn't usual behavior from Wardens. Suspected offenders got questioned, but usually by auditors, and rarely triple-teamed like this. I was starting to feel a little bit like some poor Mafioso taking a tour of the New Jersey dump, right before he joins the great cycle of composting.

"Look," I said. "What can I do to convince you? I had nothing to do with this."

After a few seconds of silence, I asked, "Was anybody hurt?"

"Three people were killed," John said. "The night watchman had brought his two kids with him to work. The kids were asleep in the front when the tornado hit. He tried to get to them, but he'd lost