“No way,” Hooker said. “He didn’t have socks on. Nobody bothers to take their socks off to have sex in the hauler.”

I cut my eyes at him.

“Not that I would know from personal experience,” Hooker said.

“The paper said Oscar Huevo was last seen having dinner with Ray. That was Saturday night. Both brothers were planning on attending the race, but only one showed up. No one saw Oscar at the track. A doorman remembers Oscar going out for a walk after dinner. No one remembers seeing Oscar return from the walk.”

Hooker finished his pancakes and started on the biscuit. “So how did they get the body into the hauler without being seen? There’s always activity around the hauler. Plus, they couldn’t drive him in on a golf cart. The carts are stopped at the gate.”

“Maybe they brought him in after the race. Remember, the sixty-nine hauler was last to leave because they were waiting for a part. Maybe somehow they smuggled the body in then. At a certain point, all the rules are relaxed and carts and vans can move into the garage area.

“And the back of the hauler was still open when we walked Beans. They had the tool cart out so they could work on the truck.”

“Seems like a stretch,” Hooker said, “but I guess it’s possible. Here’s question number two. Ray Huevo just called and said ‘all’s forgiven if he just gets his cars back.’ Why would he say that? If he knows I stole his hauler, why wouldn’t he go to the police? Why didn’t he go to the police in the first place?”

“Because Huevo knows Oscar was stashed in the hauler? And he knows you know that he knows?” I said.

“That’s a lot of ‘knows’.” Hooker forked in some more omelet. “And why does Ray care about the cars? It was my understanding that he wasn’t enamored of racing.”

“They’re still Huevo property.”

Hooker shook his head. “It feels too weird to promise forgiveness if I return the cars. I can understand trying to kill me. And I could understand trying to buy me off or blackmailing me into keeping quiet.”

“Be hard to blackmail you. The press hangs all your dirty laundry out to dry in public.”

“Yeah,” Hooker said. “And I have too much money for them to be able to buy me.”

“Let’s face it,” I said to Hooker. “He’s not going to forgive you. He’s just saying that to give you a false sense of security. He’s going to kill you. His goon already tipped his hand.”

“Actually, the Beans snatcher didn’t say why he wanted to kill me. He could be acting independently of Ray Huevo. Like, maybe he just goes around killing people who leave their Saint Bernard’s in hauler lounges.”

Hooker ate his last piece of bacon and pushed back from the table.

“You don’t seem too worried,” I said to him.

“If I could just get my heart rate to drop below stroke level, I’d look even less worried.”

“We should tell someone at NASCAR.”

“Can’t do that,” Hooker said. “I’d be done as a driver. And driving’s all I know.”

“It’s not all you know,” I said.

Hooker grinned. “Darlin’, you’re flirting with me.”

“Trying to cheer you up.”

He signaled for the check. “It’s working.”

I was never the nut in my family. My younger brother, Bill, had that honor. I was the kid who graduated from college with an engineering degree and then took a safe, steady job with a boring insurance company. I was the reliable kid who showed up on time for Sunday dinner and remembered birthdays. Until Hooker. Now I’m working for Stiller Racing and running neck and neck with my brother for loose cannon of the year.

Hooker was driving, and I was riding shotgun, watching the world fly by. Breakfast was a half hour behind us. Miami was in front of us.

“So,” I said. “Now what?”

Hooker swung off the turnpike onto the east-west expressway. “I want my dog back.”

“Looks to me like you’re heading for South Beach.”

“Ray Huevo said he’s on the corporate yacht. I figure that’s a good place to start looking for Beans. It’s one thing to steal a man’s car. It’s an entirely different category of stealing when you’re talking about a man’s dog. And this isn’t even a normal dog. This is Beans.”

“He didn’t say anything about the fact that the holes in his brother’s shoulder matched your dog’s fangs?”

“He didn’t mention his brother or my dog. He just wanted his cars back.”

“Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“I think it’s scary cold.”

“Has it occurred to you that there’s an outside chance Ray won’t be cordial?”

“Spanky and his girlfriend are on that boat celebrating his win. And there’s a full crew. I don’t expect to be offered lunch, but I also don’t think I’ll get shot. I’m not sure what I’ll accomplish, but I don’t know where else to start.”

Twenty minutes later the SUV was parked in the lot by Monty’s, and I was shoulder to shoulder with Hooker, standing on the cement walkway that ran the length of South Beach Harbor.

Hooker was grinning, looking down at me. “I thought you were going to wait in the car.”

“Someone has to watch out for your sorry ass.”

“I thought you didn’t care about my ass anymore.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t push it.”

Hooker pulled me to him and kissed me. It wasn’t a sexy, passionate kiss. It was a smiling kiss. I’d made him happy. Hooker wasn’t a guy who hid thoughts and emotions. You always pretty much knew what was in Hooker’s head. And, I knew from experience, if I let the kiss linger it would turn sexy. What Hooker lacked in guile he made up for in testosterone.

“Stop that,” I said, breaking from the kiss and jumping away.

“You liked it.”

“I didn’t!”

“Okay,” Hooker said. “Let me try again. I can do better.”

“No!” I turned and shaded my eyes with my hand, searching the harbor. “Which boat belongs to Huevo?”

“It’s the big one at the end of the pier, one pier past the dockmaster’s office.”

“The one with the triple deck?”

“Yep.”

“No helicopter,” I said. “Huevo cheaped out.”

“It’s probably just not on deck. Huevo has a fleet of planes and helicopters.”

“He also has security. Are you sure you don’t want to phone this in?”

Hooker took my hand and pulled me forward. “Sweetie, I never phone it in.”

I don’t know a lot about boats, so my opinion of Huevo’s yacht was that it was big and it was pretty. It was three decks of pristine white fiberglass with a single blue stripe running the length of the first deck, the windows all black glass. A ramp led from the boat to the dock and there was a uniformed crew member standing watch at the top of the ramp.

I followed Hooker up the ramp and tried to look calm when he told the crew member we were there to see Ray Huevo. At the very least, I feared this would be mortally embarrassing. And at the most, I worried it would be fatally final.

This morning, wearing the same clothes I’d slept in, I’d jumped out of bed and rushed to the car. I’d clamped a hat on my head and never given makeup a second thought. I don’t think I’m any more shallow than the next person, but I suspected I’d be feeling a lot braver right now if I was fresh out of the shower and wearing clean jeans.

Ray had an office on the second deck. He was at his desk and glanced up when we entered. Didn’t seem surprised. Annoyed, maybe. Like Ricky Ricardo when Lucy did something stupid. In fact, he looked a lot like Ricky Ricardo. Same coloring. Thick, dark hair. Stocky build. Hard to judge his height. He motioned for us to sit, but Hooker and I remained standing.

“I’m looking for my dog,” Hooker said. “Have you seen him?”

“I’m looking for something, too,” Huevo said. “Perhaps it would be best if the young lady waited outside for a moment.”

Hooker looked around at me and smiled. Pleasantly calm. No problemos. “Would you mind?”

I left the office, shutting the door behind me, and I stood close on the other side, trying to listen but not hearing much. After a couple minutes, four large crew members marched past me and into the office. A moment later the crew members escorted Hooker out, lifted him off his feet, and pitched him over the side of the boat, into the water. He hit with a splash and disappeared below the surface.