Martinez shook his head. "No."

"Mr. Martinez," I said. "You have a history of offing men who cross your family."

He stared at me blankly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your daughter Dominique's ex-boyfriend Calvin. He mysteriously disappeared after breaking it off with your daughter. Are you telling me . . . ?"

Martinez laughed. "I didn't kill him. I just threatened him. Told him if I ever saw his face again, I would slaughter him and his entire family. He ran off scared. Last I heard he was working as a bartender in Havana."

"But why hasn't he tried contacting his family? They're worried sick."

"He will eventually. When he thinks it's safe. I can have a certain effect on people," he said proudly.

"So you had nothing to do with Juan Carlos's murder?"

"I'll be honest with you. I had every intention of doing it. And I wanted to do it all by myself. I wanted him to see my face as I squeezed the last bit of breath out of his skinny, weak body." He snapped out of his fantasy and looked at me. "But I guess someone else got to him first."

I believed him. There was no reason for him to lie. He could've confessed and then just fed me to the sharks.

"Jarrod, I respect your need to find out what happened to Austin and the actor. I have no problem with that."

"Okay," I said warily.

"But let's set the record straight. Feel free to poke around all you like, and solve your little murder mystery. But when you dig for your information, just be sure you don't come across anything that could prove hazardous to your health."

"Like what?"

"Like anything related to me. I'm telling you right now, I had nothing to do with either of those deaths. But I am embroiled in certain activities that need to be kept under wraps. If you unwrap them, then we have a problem."

"I get the message. Loud and clear."

"I suspected you would."

"Am I free to go now?"

"No," Martinez said, standing up and coming around the desk. "My wife and children should be arriving at any moment. I believe you know them all. I'd like you stay for dinner."

"Oh, I don't know if they really want to see me . . ." I said.

"If they've heard about Juan Carlos, I'm sure they all must be in mourning. I'll need your help in cheering them up," he said as he gripped my arm, signaling to me that I didn't have a choice.

I would've preferred being fed to the sharks.

Chapter 31.

Martinez was kind enough to allow me to freshen up in one of the guest staterooms. I used the opportunity to pick up a shore-to-land phone and immediately call the QE3. I was afraid Wendell Butterworth might have doubled back and finished off Bowie, whom we'd left tied up and gagged on his houseboat. The phone rang and rang and I finally got his machine. I hung up and dialed the Ritz Plaza. When the operator put me through to my room, Charlie picked up the phone on the first ring.

"Hello?" he said. I could tell he was worried.

"Charlie, it's me," I said. "Look, I don't have time to explain, but I need you to go over to Bowie's houseboat and make sure he's all right."

"Why?"

I quickly explained everything, and when I'd finished, he said, "Where are you now?"

"On Javier Martinez's boat. Somewhere out in the marina."

"What?" Charlie said, more than a bit concerned.

One of the crew rapped on the stateroom door. "Mr. Martinez is requesting your presence in the dining room, Mr. Jarvis."

"In a minute," I called out.

"Mr. Martinez isn't used to being kept waiting," the crew member said.

"Okay, be right there," I said, then spoke fast into the phone. "Charlie, I have to go. I really don't want to piss this guy off. Please, just go make sure Bowie is all right."

The crew member outside the door inserted the key and turned the knob. I didn't want him catching me on the phone, so I hung up, and smiled at him as he stepped inside. He was short and squat, a balding Latino in a crisp white uniform, his pressed shorts showing off some hairy, knobby knees. He stared at me sternly.

"I love the little duck soaps in the bathroom. Can I take some home with me?" I said, hoping I would be able to actually go home at some point.

He wasn't amused. He just held the door open for me, and I passed him with a shrug. He escorted me to the dining room, and made sure I went inside before quietly retreating. I had entered the lion's den.

Javier sat at the head of the table, Viveca to his immediate right, Dominique and David on his left. Javier watched with glee as his wife and children finally noticed me. Viveca nearly spit out her peach schnapps. Dominique stared daggers. And David strained trying to place me, probably having a vague recollection of seeing me at the Sand Drift Motel.

It was obvious Javier hadn't mentioned I would be tonight's special guest. He had a sick sense of humor, and enjoyed catching them off guard like this.

Dominique spoke first. "What's he doing here?"

"He's my friend and I've asked him to join us for dinner," Javier said, barely able to contain himself he was having such a good time.

"I didn't know you and Dad were friends," Dominique said, barely even looking at me. "Is that how you got cast in the movie?"

"No," I said. "We've only recently met."

"We've discovered we have something in common," Javier said as the same crew member that brought me to the dining room rushed in to refill his boss's glass of bourbon.

"And what's that?" Viveca asked.

"A mutual loathing of your dearly departed Juan Carlos," Javier said. There was a deafening silence, finally broken by Javier's almost merry voice. "Jarrod, can I offer you a drink?"

"Just some water, thank you, Mr. Martinez."

"We're friends, Jarrod, call me Javier," he said with a wink.

So this is how Miami crime bosses got their kicks. Stirring the pot at home. I never saw someone have such a good time.

David finally spoke up. "Have we met?" He looked me up and down.

"No," Javier answered for me. "At least I don't think so. But Jesus and Abe first saw him up in that little town north of Vero Beach. Sebastian. Where you were last week. With Juan Carlos."

Another long, painful silence. David looked down at his clean, shiny, empty plate guiltily. I knew Viveca and Dominique both knew that the other was sleeping with Juan Carlos, so I tried reading their faces to ascertain if they knew about David's involvement with him as well. Both remained still, and stone-faced, and silent. They definitely knew. Talk about a family affair.

The wait staff arrived with a sumptuous feast of pan-fried scallops as an appetizer, shrimp salad, a delectable pecan-crusted catfish, and a very expensive French white wine with a name I couldn't pronounce. Javier was clearly a lover of seafood given the rather one-sided menu, and mother, son, and daughter dove in with relish, obviously relieved that the food could serve as a distraction from the excruciatingly uncomfortable circumstances.

None of them had any idea how much I knew about their individual escapades, though Viveca flaunted it on the set every chance she got. Of course, how could she ever imagine that I would at some point be joining the family for dinner on their yacht? Javier stuffed huge bites of catfish in his mouth, and chewed with his mouth open. Smack. Smack. Smack. I could easily understand why Javier had such deplorable table manners. Who in their right mind would want to mention it to him? Viveca and Dominique exchanged furtive glances. David sat sullenly, poking at the shrimp on his salad plate with a tiny stainless steel fork.

He then took a small bite of scallop, and hurled it back onto his plate. "It's overcooked . . . again," he huffed. "I wish we could get Austin back."

"Well, we can't because Austin's dead," Javier said, shooting an annoyed glance at his son. "And dead people are useless in the kitchen."

"Maybe if you had let him come back, he wouldn't be dead," said Viveca.

Javier's face reddened. "Austin left us high and dry for greener pastures. Loyalty means everything to me, Viveca. You know that," he said, and then glared at the entire family. "You should all know that."

"I miss him," Dominique said quietly. "He was a good man."

"Good man. Good man. Austin Teboe was a traitor." Javier spit out his catfish. I jerked my head to the right to avoid a bull's-eye. "None of you ever took the time to really know him. You just liked the way he prepared your food. The three of you have proven time and time again that you're not particularly good judges of character."

Nobody dared to respond. They all looked down at their food and continued eating. Nothing made much sense anymore. Austin Teboe had quit working for the Martinez family. But did that necessarily provide the motive for a family member to poison him? And Dominique had been the only Martinez present at the time Austin Teboe was murdered. So everybody not there was pretty much cleared. So who did kill him? And why? And what about Juan Carlos? Javier said he didn't do it, and I was predisposed to believe him. If he had done it, he probably would have bragged about it after all the humiliation Juan Carlos put the poor guy through, sleeping with his entire immediate family. No. I was pretty sure Martinez was innocent, at least of the Austin Teboe and Juan Carlos Barranco murders. But what about the rest of the family? Juan Carlos had broken Dominique's heart, toyed with Viveca's affections, and slept with David while also banging his mother and sister at the same time. Probably recycled his sweet nothings too. No, there were plenty of motives to choose from. But as I looked around the table, I didn't see a smidgeon of guilt or remorse, just pure unadulterated grief. These people were in mourning. They should have been rejoicing. Juan Carlos wouldn't be around anymore to lie, steal, cheat, and play a sad little ditty on their heartstrings. But none of them were willing to look at that side of him. They chose to focus on his positive attributes, whatever they might be. Just as Laurette had. All I could imagine was just how good he must have been in bed.

I decided that although this family was wildly dysfunctional, there wasn't a murderer among them outside of their mobster father. So if no one in the Martinez family killed Juan Carlos, then who did? I was no closer to solving this puzzle than I was when my plane touched down in Miami a few weeks ago.

The knobby-kneed crewmember burst into the dining room, his face tense. "Excuse me, sir," he said to Javier.

"Yes, what is it?"

"We're under attack."

Javier stood up, and threw his napkin down. "What?"

"Two men are on board. Our security cameras caught them climbing over the deck railing. And they're armed."

"Stay here," Javier said to all of us, and hastily followed the crew member out. We all sat frozen for a moment, and then jumped up at the same time and dashed out of the room and up the narrow steel stairs to get a good view of the action. By the time we'd reached topside, a swarm of Martinez's men were searching the boat. The intruders had yet to be found. Javier barked orders and nervously paced the deck. He caught sight of us peeking out from the door leading to below deck.

"I told you all to stay put! I want you to go to your staterooms now!" The family knew better than to defy orders from the master of the house twice, so they all solemnly retreated. Since I didn't have a stateroom, I figured he didn't mean me. So I took the opportunity to poke around. Who were these men? A rival mob family? The feds on a raid? And how on earth did I get caught in the middle? As I passed a midsize rubber dingy, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and hauled me over behind it. The attacker wrenched my arms behind my back, and before I could call out to my good friend Javier, someone else in front of me cupped a hand over my mouth.

"Quiet, Jarrod, it's me," Charlie said, looking very sexy in a black skintight wet suit unzipped far enough to show off his broad, furry chest.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered urgently.

The man holding me from behind let me go, and said, "We came to rescue you." It was Bowie.

"Rescue me? I don't need to be rescued," I said in a hushed voice.

"When you called me to tell me you were on Martinez's boat, you sounded nervous," Charlie said.

"I was late for dinner," I said. I turned to Bowie. "Are you okay?" I could feel Charlie tense up the minute the words came rolling out of my mouth.

"Yeah, Wendell never came back. I was hogtied in my living room until Charlie thankfully showed up," Bowie said, also looking sexy in the same black wetsuit.

"You guys better get out of here before Martinez finds you. They saw you on the security cameras, and it's only a matter of time before-"

A flood of lights blinded all three of us as Martinez and his men, armed with flashlights and pistols, swooped down on us. We all threw our hands up in the air to surrender. We were too outnumbered to try anything.

"Who are you?" Javier asked Charlie and Bowie brusquely. "What are you doing on my boat?"

"They're friends of mine," I said, with an upbeat smile. "I was hoping there might be room for them at dinner."

Chapter 32.

Unfortunately Javier wasn't in the mood to resume dinner after the dramatic invasion. And it was lucky for us he decided not to kill any of us for ruining his meal and nearly causing him a heart attack. He knew three bodies washing ashore was a headache he didn't need at the moment. Instead, he had his crew escort Charlie and Bowie topside and to the small speedboat they had tied to a post just a few hundred yards from the yacht.

As I was heading back up to the deck of the boat to join them, a stateroom door creaked open, and a voice said softly, "Jarrod, come in here. I need to tell you something." It was David Martinez. We hadn't exchanged two words ever, and now he had a burning need to confide in me. I looked around to make sure Daddy wasn't spying on us, and then slipped inside his stateroom.

"What is it?" I said.

David shut the door and locked it. "I know Juan Carlos was a shit. Deep down I've always known it. But I couldn't help myself. He had a power over me."

"And a lot of other people," I added.

David nodded. "I know. But I want to know who killed him. It's tearing me up inside now that he's gone, and I have to know."

"I'll do my best."

"Do you really think there might be a connection between Juan Carlos's death and Austin Teboe's?"

"Yes."

"Then maybe this will help you somehow. After my dad refused to rehire him, Austin fell into serious debt and really needed some cash. He showed up at the house one day when he knew Dad was away to ask me if I could help him somehow, maybe talk to Dad for him, and he walked in on me and Juan Carlos fooling around in the sack."

"Did he already know about Dominique and your mother?"

"Everybody knew about Juan Carlos dumping Dominique. It was very messy and very public. It's what drove Juan Carlos out of town. I'm not sure if Austin knew about Juan Carlos and my mother though. But the fact that Juan Carlos was bisexual and sleeping with me and my sister, well, he figured he had enough."

"Enough to do what?"