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  Candlelight, and a 2010 Cakebread Cellars Reserve Chardonnay for the Judge, which Katy watched him drink with envy, was the final touch to a special evening for the three of them. Annie dined on steak scraps with the gusto of her golden retriever breed, more or less swallowing them whole.

  The Judge took Vicodin, ignoring Katy's protest that wine and drugs don't mix, and the two settled into the queen bed in the Captain's Cabin. The Judge lying slightly at an angle to fit. Katy wrapped around him. The dog settled on the floor at the end of the bed. The lights were turned off and the boat did its gentle rock as the tide receded. They drifted asleep.

  An hour later Annie suddenly jumped up and gave her best oversized growl. The Judge softly called to her to be quiet. It was the new Beneteau neighbor in the next slip, coming back to his boat late. The Judge heard the sail boat’s generator start, then settle into a low putt putt barely noticeable above the tide and slight rocking of The Papillon. It was the last thing the Judge remembered as he drifted off.

  It seemed like the Judge had just closed his eyes, but it must have been an hour later. He half awoke, vaguely feeling a sticky wet tongue lapping about his face, alternating with high urgent whimpers. Annie was very upset. She tried to pull his covers back with her paw. She was quite desperate to get him up. Damn. She likely needed to use the artificial turf pad laid out for her on the aft deck. Damn and double damn. She rarely had this problem.

  He struggled through weariness and pills to fully wake up. He didn't want Annie peeing on the carpet. But making his brain work was difficult. His vision seemed blurred and he felt dizzy as he sat up. It was difficult to breath for some reason. Katy had been right about wine and the pills. His stomach was churning and he thought he might vomit.

  With enormous effort he stood up. Katy was asleep beside him, not moving. Annie was still stirred up. She jumped up on the bed, imploring him with her glistening brown eyes and soft whimpers.

  Something was wrong. He could dimly feel it. What was it? Damn, why wouldn't his brain work? He shook his head. That was a mistake. Fireworks went off behind his eyes.

  It seemed stuffy. Some primitive instinct told him he needed air. The picture window behind him in the stern was closed, locked down with toggle latches against the cold night air. Willing himself to move, he twisted around and fumbled with the toggle locks. Why were they so difficult?

  Finally he managed them, pushing the window out and open, sending a cold gust of air into the small cabin. It helped. But is head still wasn't working right. An intense headache had settled in.

  Shit. It was fumes. The entire master's cabin was filled with fumes. Likely from the damn boat generator next door. He could smell them now.

  He grabbed Katy and shook her. Her head rolled to one side and she seemed barely responsive.

  He grabbed her by the waist and half carried her, half dragged her out of the bed and up the three steps to the main salon. Annie followed, barking now. He laid Katy on the settee and sprang to the windows, opening them all, letting the cold moist air flow in with a rush.

  Katie started to wake up. Panicked. He could see it in her face. He slung her arm over his shoulder and they stumbled together up the last three steps and out on to the aft deck.

  They slumped there on the steps leading up to the bridge for what seemed the longest time. Shivering in the cold, but taking in large gulps of the moist ocean air. Finally the Judge stood up, tousled the dog's mane in a special show of thanks, then moved forward amidships and carefully shifted to the boarding steps and descended to the dock.

  The lights were still on in the Beneteau, and its generator still chugged along in quiet rhythm. It was one in the morning. It didn't make sense. He moved closer to the sail boat.

  He could see now it wasn't the boat's inboard generator going at all. Instead, someone had set up a small portable gas driven generator in the cockpit of the boat. This was what was running. There was a hose attached to the exhaust on the little generator. It ran off the boat and on to the dock.

  The Judge got closer and followed the hose in the dark. The hose ran across the dock and was duct taped to his boat, to the grey water drain just above the water line for the sink in their small head just off the captain’s cabin. Someone was pumping the fumes and carbon monoxide from the small generator into his master stateroom.

  He climbed aboard the Beneteau and opened the half doors over the hatch leading below. He leaned down and looked in. Only one light was on below. No one was aboard.

  He fumbled with the switch on the portable generator and turned it off. Then he returned to his boat. Holding his breath, he descended through the salon and down into the Captain's Cabin. He entered the small head and kneeling, slid open one of the louvered doors to the compartment under the little sink.

  The hose attached to the sink drain had been cut in two. Leaving a clear path from the outside drain to the inside of the cabinet. The fumes had been fed in here, then found their way through the openings in the louvered cabinet doors out into the Master's Cabin. The carbon monoxide, settling low to the floor, had slowly built up to fill their sleeping compartment.

  Someone had tried to kill them. Someone very likely watching from a distance even now. Ready to come pick up the hose and portable generator once it had done its work. All the police would find would be two adults and a dog, dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. To all appearances a freak accident.

  The Judge grabbed his cell phone next to bed and bolted back up the stairs. Out to the aft deck and fresh air.

  He called the 911.

  CHAPTER 32

  1:00 AM Thursday

  The police arrived about fifteen minutes later in the form of Officer Saunders, Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department’s finest. The same officer who’d helped after the Judge had crawled out of the surf the Friday before. As he walked down the dock, another police cruiser pulled up behind him, followed by a lab truck. All their lights were flashing, sending reflections off the water around the dock, turning it a deep red. And lights were going on in the circular tower of condos above the dock as people got out of bed to see what was going on.

  “You must be very unpopular, Judge, to have all these people gunning for you,” said Saunders. Smiling. “What’d you do to deserve all this attention?”

  “I’m not sure, officer. But you’re right. I’m getting a lot of attention.”

  “Perhaps you should take a vacation. Get out of town until we catch these people. Or ask the department for assigned protection or something. I know I would. I’d go trout fishing.” Saunders’ lined face broke into a happy smile at the thought.

  He turned then, noting the vehicles that had just pulled up.

  “The Lieutenant is coming now,” said Saunders, pointing to a thin young man cautiously making his way down the ramp, slippery with the night dew. The lieutenant didn’t look like a sailor and he clearly didn’t like water. He was slowly inching down the gangplank and on to the dock.

  Saunders turned and huffed back up the ramp, still walking like his feet hurt, past the lieutenant and toward the lab people unpacking gear off their truck and looking for direction.

  The next hour was consumed with telling their story to young lieutenant Cochran, then telling it again, and finally a third time, while a techie ran around the Beneteau, the small generator, the hose, and The Pappilon’s master’s cabin and head, taking pictures, dusting for fingerprints, and looking for physical evidence. The owner of the Beneteau was called but knew nothing about the matter, being out of town and not having been on the boat in a week.

  The dock master for the marina had been called and felt compelled to roust herself from bed and troop over to her marina, looking as sleepy and as disheveled as the Judge felt. She promised new codes on the automatic lock for the gate to the dock first thing in the morning.

  The lieutenant asked if The Papillon had been locked during the day.

  “No, the dog was aboard, so we left the main hatch open so she could go back and for
th. Have access to the artificial turf pad on the aft deck to pee,” said the Judge.

  “How come the dog didn’t bark, or attack the intruder?”

  “She’s a golden retriever,” said the Judge.

  “Oh… of course.”

  Finally, a little after two in the morning, everyone packed up and left. And the Judge, Katy and Annie settled back in the master’s cabin and prepared to go to sleep. They’d opened all the windows, and a soft sea breeze had aired the master’s cabin out, leaving only the scent of the sea. The drain hose for the sink had been taped off at both ends and the boat’s door and forward hatch locked securely. They’d discussed going to a hotel, but what would they do with Annie, who was now officially a hero? Besides, the Judge was damned if he would be scared off his own boat. He unlocked the secret compartment under their half circle bed in the master’s cabin, and brought out his Pietro Beretta 360 automatic, 9 caliber, short barrel, 13 shots including the one in the chamber, placing it on the built in night stand beside the bed. If someone wanted more trouble, they’d jolly well find it here.

  Katy snuggled against the Judge, calmer now than she had been, but clearly very worried.

  “We’re okay, Katy,” said the Judge. “Whoever did this would be foolish to come back, and I’m prepared if he does.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about, Judge.”

  “What then?”

  “I breathed a lot of that carbon monoxide. Do you think it did permanent damage?”

  “You’re okay now, Katy. You’re breathing fine.”

  “Not me, Judge. Our baby…!”

  CHAPTER 33

  10:00 AM Thursday

  The Judge left the dock for his car in the parking garage and checked his messages. He was surprised by the third call in.

  “Hello Judge. This is your new acquaintance, Cindy Kwan. Can you meet me for lunch today? I’d like to clear the air between us.”

  The Judge returned the call and agreed to lunch at noon at James’ Beach. Then headed for his office, wondering what Cindy Kwan wanted.

  As the Judge got out of his car in front of James’ Beach two hours later, Cindy Kwan pulled up behind in a cherry red Mercedes SLK, with its top down. A sports car the Judge was too old and too fat to fit in.

  She wore a white dress which flew up as she threw her legs up and out of the car first with a flourish, then propelled the rest of her body out, deliberately displaying beautifully toned calves, slim thighs and a brief glimpse of cherry red panties.

  The parking attendant stumbled over the curve, more intent on the view than his job, nearly knocking into the Judge. It was well staged.

  Cindy immediately extended a small slender hand as she approached, her dark eyes pools of intensity that drew the Judge in despite himself. She was beautiful, charming and dangerous, all at once. From some other world, crashed here to wreak havoc on the male population. A part of the Judge wanted to be havocked.

  He took the small slender hand in his, felt the surge of energy that radiated from it, and gave it a delicate, almost wimpy shake. He felt it might break if he wasn’t careful.

  Her eyes flashed to his from under long eyelashes. He saw, or felt, the same attraction, the same lust, he’d felt before when they’d been introduced. He could see its counterpart in her eyes. He felt his loins stir.

  Some part of him wondered if it was like this for her with all men. Or just with him? He wanted to think it was just him. But experience suggested different. He now understood the meaning of the word “Siren”. No wonder Carl had become so caught up in her.

  James’ Beach the quintessential Venice ‘beachy’ bar and restaurant was in the middle of a narrow street, a handful of doors from the boardwalk and the beach. It was known for its three separate bars, its Mahi Mahi fish tacos, its indoor palm trees, and the swim trunks hanging from its ceiling lights. The crowd was always animated and the bars tended to be jam packed on the weekends all the way into the wee hours of the morning.

  They sat down at a table in the patio covered by stiff canvas. Cindy modestly folding the white chiffon around her now most everything had been displayed. She’d established her credentials.

  “I’m glad you called, Miss Kwan,” said the Judge.

  “Don’t be formal, Judge. You’re not stuffy underneath. I know. We’ve been lovers before.”

  “We have?” The Judge was startled.

  “In a former life, dear. In several. I recognized you as soon as we met. We shouldn’t have allowed ourselves to be distracted by business.” A flash of perfect ivory teeth. “Just call me Cindy, and perhaps later just Honey.”

  The Judge felt distinctly out of his depth.

  “Tell me about Carl.”

  “Right to business. No foreplay with you Judge. But you were always that way. Quick. To the point. Knowing exactly what you wanted… and how you wanted it.”

  “Yes… err, well, let’s stick with Carl for the moment.”

  “Okay, Judge, the bottom line first. For you. I didn’t kill Carl. I didn’t kill your law clerk, Freddie or Frankie, or something, and I don’t know who did. Carl and I were lovers. I’m a sensual woman. I have needs. For a time Carl satisfied some of them.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Together is the wrong word, Judge. We had our intimate moments. They were fun. But life’s a smorgasbord. You don’t fill up on one dish.”

  There were the teeth again. The hairs on the back of the Judge’s neck stood up. He knew she wanted to sink her teeth into the soft intersection of his neck and his shoulder and nibble. But how the hell did he know that? There was a lot of non-verbal communication going on he couldn’t control. It made him uncomfortable.

  He was starting to sweat. And she knew it. He could see the hint of satisfaction in the dark pools that were her eyes. There was a certain flat quality to her eyes now, though. Like a snake. Watching intently as its next meal approached.

  “What happened between you and Carl to disturb the smorgasbord?” asked the Judge.

  “I haven’t changed much either, Judge. Around and around we go, through the cycles of life and death and rebirth. But we don’t really change.”

  “Like a Ferris wheel?

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. So what happened?”

  “I’m Chinese… Mandarin. If you thought about our past before, you’d know why if broke it off with Carl.”

  “Business before pleasure,” murmured the Judge. It just came out. He didn’t know from where.

  “You remembered. More teeth. Because of my intimate acquaintance with Carl I was approached to present to him an offer to buy his technology.”

  “The one that is the subject of a patent suit?”

  “Catch up, Judge. The technology Carl hadn’t filed for yet.”

  “What does the technology do?”

  More teeth inside a big smile.

  “You already know that, Judge. And if by some quirk you don’t, I’m not at liberty to enlighten.”

  “And Carl was not receptive to your offer?”

  “No. He wouldn’t even talk about it. Stuck a hand, palm out, in my face. It made me furious. And apparently he didn’t even fully own the technology. He let slip at one of our shouting matches that he had a silent partner who would never go for the deal. The group kept piling on financial incentives for me if I could persuade Carl to sell. And they kept sweetening the pot for Carl too. And his secret partner. The pile of money and points offered grew quite large. And so did Carl’s recalcitrance to even discuss it. My last intimate meeting with Carl, in his room in the Marina Ritz Carlton ended in a screaming match.”

  “When was that?”

  “About six weeks ago. Our communication at the club and elsewhere has been stilted since then. The old fool. There was no way he was going to develop that technology. He had no capital. No investor prospects. In me he had a realistic opportunity to complete development, market and sell it. We would have made mega fortunes toge
ther.”

  “Did your group threaten Carl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on Cindy.”

  “Perhaps a tad. I told Carl these were both determined and dangerous people. He should wise up and cut a deal. They wouldn’t give up. They’d make lots of trouble.”

  “How’d Carl respond?”

  “He laughed in my face. Told me he’d been threatened before. Wasn’t going to be intimidated by a bunch of Vodkalkies.”

  “So your group is Russian?”

  Cindy’s chin came up and her dark eyes flashed. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Was this an offshore Russian backed group?”

  “You’ve already seen how dangerous this amateur probing can be, Judge. You should leave this investigation to the police. Walk away. Move from the center of the target. It’s not your fight.”

  “People have dragged me into the middle of it, Cindy. Now I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

  “You’ve always been stubborn, Judge. In your last life, and the ones before. It’s cut things short for you more than once. Let it go this time around. There are dangerous interests in play here.”

  “So there is more than one party involved?”

  “That’s enough business, Judge. Let’s talk about us in this life.”

  “I’m an old, fat, displaced Judge, Cindy, with a new wife and a baby on the way. I don’t think there’s room for an ‘us’. At least in this ‘go around.’”

  Cindy’s eyes held the Judge’s for a while, measuring his resolve.

  “That’s a shame, Judge. But let’s give it a year or three and we’ll see. Wait until this baby arrives and she’s spending all her time and attention on it. She’ll forget about you. All she’ll want to talk about is the kid. You’ll get tired of that. She’ll put on weight. Won’t want to go out much. She’ll be tired all the time. You won’t want to take her out. There’ll be nothing to show off anymore.