The old tile path, cutting handsomely through the manicured front lawn of the estate, lay before her. It was nearing twilight and she couldnt help but notice that the air was perfectneither too cold nor too hotand that the setting sun was painting a palette of colors in the sky. She could smell the salt in the air and hear the waves as they splashed against the concrete breakers at the rear of the house.
All that made the area so beautifuland, in particular, the house out on the islandhad never seemed to be quite so evident and potent as when she walked toward the house. Jimmy Crystal had not actually named the place for himself; hed written in his old journal that the island had seemed to sit in a sea of crystals, shimmering beneath the sun. And so it was. And now, through the years, the estate had become something glimmering and dazzling, as well. It sat in homage to days gone by, to memories of a time when the international city of Miami had been little more than a mosquito-ridden swamp and only those with vision had seen what might come in the future.
She and her parents had never lived in the house; theyd stayed in their home in the Roads section of the city, just north of Coconut Grove, where theyd always lived. They managed the estate, but even in that, a board had been brought in and a trust set up. The expenses to keep such an estate going were staggering.
While it had begun as a simple fishing shack, time and the additions of several generations had made Crystal Manor into something much more. It resembled both an Italianate palace and a medieval castle with tile and marble everywhere, grand columns, turrets and more. The manor was literally a square built around a center courtyard, with turrets at each corner that afforded four tower rooms above the regular two stories of the structure.
As she walked toward the sweeping, grand steps that led to the entry, she looked around. She had heard one of the other thugs, but, at that moment, she didnt see anyone.
Glancing back, she saw that a chain had been looped around the main gate. The gate arched to fifteen feet; the coral rock wall that surrounded the house to the water was a good twelve feet. Certainly not insurmountable by the right law-enforcement troops, but, still, a barrier against those who might come in to save the day.
She looked back at her masked abductor. She could see nothing of his faceexcept for those eyes.
Why were they so...eerily familiar? If she really knew him, if she had known him growing up, shed have remembered who went with those eyes! They were striking, intense. The darkest, deepest blue she had ever seen.
What was she thinking? He was a crook! She didnt make friends with crooks!
The double entryway doors suddenly opened and she saw another man in its maw.
Kody stopped. She stared at the doors. They were really beautiful, hardwood enhanced with stained-glass images of pineapplessymbols of welcome. Quite ironic at the moment.
Get her in here! the second masked man told the one called Barrow.
Go, Barrow said softly from behind her.
She walked up the steps and into the entry.
It was grand now, though the entry itself had once been the whole house built by Jimmy Crystal when he had first fallen in love with the little island that, back then, had been untouched, isolateda haven only for mangroves and mosquitos. Since then, of course, the islandalong with Star and Hibiscus islandshad become prime property.
But the foyer still contained vestiges of the original. The floor was coral rock. The columns were the original columns that Jimmy Crystal had poured. Dade country pine still graced the side walls.
The rear wall had been taken down to allow for glass barriers to the courtyard; more columns had been added. The foyer contained only an 1890s rocking horse to the right side of the double doors and an elegant, old fortune-telling machine to the left. And, of course, the masked man who stood between the majestic staircases that led to the second floor at each side of the space.
She cast her eyes around but saw no one else.
There had still been four or five guests on the property when Kody had started to close down for the day. And five staff members: Stacey Carlson, the estate manager, Nan Masters, his assistant, and Vince Jenkins, Brandi Johnson and Betsy Rodriguez, guides. Manny Diaz, the caretaker, had been off the property all day. And, of course, Jose Marquez was there somewhere.
So, this is Miss Cameron? the masked man in the house asked.
Yes, Dillinger. This is Miss Cameron, Barrow said.
Dillinger. She was rightthis guys mask was that of the long-ago killer John Dillinger.
Well, well, well. I cant tell you, Miss Cameron, what a delight it is to meet you! the man said. Imagine! When I heard that you were herecuddle time with the family before the final big move to the Big AppleI knew it was time we had to step in.
The man seemed to know about herand her family.
If you think Im worth some kind of ransom, she said, truly puzzledand hoping she wasnt sealing her own doom, Im not. We may own this estate, but its in some kind of agreement and trust with the state of Florida. It survives off of grants and tourist dollars. She hesitated. My family isnt rich. They just love this old place.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Daddy is an archeologist and Mom travels with him. Right now theyre on their way back from South America so they can head up north with their baby girl to get her all settled into New York City. Yes! I have the prize right here, dont I?
I have no idea what youre talking about, Kody told him. I wish I could say that someone would give you trillions of dollars for me, but Im not anyones prize. Im a bartender-waitress at an Irish pub whos struggling to make ends meet as an actress.
Oh, honey, Dillinger said, I dont give a damn if youre a bad actress.
Hey! I never said I was a bad actress! she protested. And then, of course, she thought that he was making her crazyheck, the whole situation was making her crazybecause who the hell cared if she was a bad actress or a good actress if she wasnt even alive?
Dillinger waved a hand in the air. Thats neither here nor there. Youre going to lead us to the Anthony Green stash.
Startled, Kody went silent.
Everyone, of course, had heard about the Anthony Green stash.
Green was known to have knocked over the long-defunct Miami Bank of the Pioneers, making off with the banks safe-deposit boxes that had supposedly contained millions in diamonds, jewels, gold and more. It was worth millions. But Anthony Green had died in a hail of bulletswith his mouth shut. The stash was never found. It had always been suspected that Anthony Greenbefore his demisehad seen to it that the haul had been hidden somewhere in one of his shacks deep in the Everglades, miles from his Biscayne Bay home.
Rumor followed rumor. It was said that Guillermo Salazara South American drug lordhad actually found the stash about a decade ago and added a small fortune in ill-gotten heroin-sales gains to itbefore he, in turn, had been shot down by a rival drug cartel.
Who the hell knew? One way or the other, it was supposedly a very large fortune.
She didnt doubt that Salazar had sold drugs; the Coast Guard in South Florida was always busy stopping the drug trade. But she sure as hell didnt believe that Salazar had found the Green stash at the house, because she really didnt believe the stash was here.
Chills suddenly rose up her spine.
If she was supposed to find a stash that didnt exist here...
They were all dead.
Where is everyone? she asked.
Safe, Dillinger said.
Safe where?
No one answered Kody. Where? she repeated.
Theyre all fine, Miss Cameron.
It was the man behind herBarrowwho finally spoke up. Dillinger, she needs to know that theyre all fine, he added.
I assure you, Dillinger continued. Theyre all fine. Theyre in the music room.
The music room took up most of the left side of the downstairs. It would be the right place to hold a group of people.
Except...
Someone, somewhere, had to know that something was going on here. Surely one of the employees or guests had had a chance to get out a cell phone warning.
I want to see them, she said. I want to see that everyone is all right.
Listen, missy, what you do and dont want doesnt matter here. What youre going to do for us matters, Dillinger told her.
I dont know where the stash is. If I did, the world would have known about it long ago, she said. And, if you know everything, you surely know that history says Anthony Green hid his bank treasure in some hut somewhere out in the Everglades.
She sure as hell isnt rich, Dillinger, Barrow said. Everything is trueshes taken a part-time job because what shes working is off-off Broadway. If she knew about the stash, I dont think shed be slow-pouring Guinness at an old pub in the city.
Dillinger seemed annoyed. Kody was, in fact, surprised by what she could read in his eyesand in his movements.
No one asked your opinion, Barrow, Dillinger said. Shes the only one who can find it. I went through every newspaper clippingshes loved the place since she was a kid. Shes read everything on Jimmy Crystal and Anthony Green and the mob days on Miami Beach. She knows what rooms in this place were built what years, when any restoration was done. She knows it all. She knows how to find the stash. And shes going to help us find it.
Dont be foolish, Kody said. You can get out now. No one knows who you guys arethe masks, Ill grant you, are good. Well, theyre not good. Theyre cheap and lousy masks, but they create the effect you want and no one here knows what your real faces look like. Pretty soon, though, walls or not, cops will swarm the place. Someone will come snooping around. Someone probably got something out on a cell phone.
She couldnt see his face but she knew that Dillinger smiled. Cell phones? No, we secured those pretty quickly, he said. And your security guard? Hes restinghes got a bit of a headache. He shook his head. Face it, young lady. You have me and Barrow here. Floyd is with your friends, Capone is on his way to help, and the overall estate is being guarded by Baby Face Nelson and Machine Gun Kelly and our concept of modern security and communication and, you know, weve got good old Dutchas in Schultzworking it all, too. I think were good for a while. Long enough for you to figure out where the stash is. And, lets see, you are going to help us.
I wont do anything, she told him. Nothing. Nothing at allnot until I know that my friends and our guests are safe and that Jose isnt suffering from anything more than a headache.
Not that shed help them even thenif she even could. The stash had been missing since the 1930s. In fact, Anthony Green had used a similar ruse when he had committed the bank robbery. Hed come in fast with six menall wearing masks. Hed gotten out just as fast. The cops had never gotten him. Theyd suspected him, but theyd never had proof. Theyd still been trying to find witnesses and build a case against him when hed been gunned down on Miami Beach.
But her demands must have hit home because Dillinger turned to Barrow. Fine. Bring her through.
He turned to head down the hallway that led into the music roomthe first large room on the left side of the house.
It was a gorgeous room, graced with exquisite crown molding, rich burgundy carpets and old seascapes of famous ports, all painted by various masters in colors that complemented the carpet. There was a wooden dais at one end of the room that accommodated a grand piano, a harp, music stands and room for another three or four musicians.
There were sofas, chairs and love seats backed to all the walls, and a massive marble fireplace for those times when it did actually get cold on the water.
Kody knew about every piece in the room, but at that moment all she saw was the group huddled together on the floor.
Quickly searching the crowd, she found Stacey Carlson, the estate manager. He was sixty or so with salt-and-pepper hair, old-fashioned sideburns and a small mustache and goatee. A dignified older man, he was quick to smile, slow to follow a jokebut brilliant. Nan Masters was huddled to his side. If it was possible to have platonic affairs, the two of them were hot and heavy. Nothing ever went on beyond their love of Miami, the beaches and all that made up their home. Nan was red-haired, but not in the least fiery. Slim and tiny, she looked like a cornered mouse huddled next to Stacey.
Vince Jenkins sat cross-legged on a Persian rug that lay over the carpet, straight and angry. There was a bruise forming on the side of his face. Hed apparently started out by fighting back.
Beside him, Betsy Rodriguez and Brandi Johnson were close to one another. Betsy, the tinier of the two, but by far the most out-there and sarcastic, had her arm around Brandi, who was nearly six feet, blond, blue-eyed, beautiful and shy.
Jose Marquez had been laid on the largest love seat. His forehead was bleeding, but, Kody quickly saw, he was breathing.
The staff had been somewhat separated from the few guests who had remained on the property, finishing up in the gardens after closing. She couldnt remember all their names but she recalled the couple, Victor and Melissa Arden. They were on their honeymoon, yet theyd just been in Texas, visiting the graves of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow in their separate cemeteries. They loved studying old gangsters, which was beyond ironic, Kody thought now. Another young woman from Indiana, an older man and a fellow of about forty rounded out the group.
They were all huddled low, apparently respecting the twin guns carried by another man in an identity-concealing mask.
Kody! Stacey said, breathing out a sigh of relief. She realized that her friends might have been worrying for her life.
She turned to Dillinger. Youd better not hurt them!
Hurt them? Dillinger said. I dont want to hurt any of you, really. Okay, okay, so, quite frankly, I dont give a rats ass. But Barrow there, hes kind of squeamish when it comes to blood and guts. Caponemy friend with the gunsis kind of rabid. Like he really had syphilis or rabies or something. Hed just as soon shoot you as look at you. So, heres my suggestion. He paused, staring Cody up and down. You find out what I need to know. You come up to that libraryand you start using everything you know and going through everything in the books, every news brief, every everything. You find that stash for me. Their lives depend on it.
What if I cant find it? she asked. No one has found this stash in eighty-plus years!
Youd better find it, Dillinger said.