Read Online The Deep Blue Alibi by Paul Levine - Free Book Online

hit.”
    The plane was at thirty feet when it passed through the opening in the cove, and Fowles set it down with the promised splash, the windows plastered with streaming water. The plane slowed immediately, the two props on the high wings still whirling, the plane now a boat chugging toward the shoreline.
    “Welcome to Paradise,” Fowles told them. “Junior should be waiting in the … oh, sod it all! Look at that, off the starboard.”
    Steve was already looking out his window, so he caught the entire amazing sight. Maybe it wasn’t a pair of dolphins jumping in tandem or a school of sharks in a hunting party. This was both more impressive—and more threatening. Without quite knowing why, Steve sensed that this sight portended a greater impact on his life than the wonders of nature.
    A man in skimpy, black Speedos shot out of the water, smooth and sleek as a Polaris missile. He held a lobster in one hand and grabbed the pontoon of the seaplane with the other. With athletic grace, he hoisted himself onto the pontoon and waved the lobster over his head, flashing a smile toward the fuselage windows.
    Could he see Victoria through the glass? Steve wondered.
    She could surely see him.
    And what would she have seen? Or, more important to Steve, what would she have felt ?
    The man was an inch or two over six feet tall, with a swimmer’s body. Flat waist, ridged six-pack of abs, carved shoulders, and long, smooth, muscled arms. With his arms raised, his lats flared like stingrays from his sides. His chest was simply too large for the rest of him. Two slabs of meaty pecs, like thick steaks, and an overall impression of chesty, brutal strength. He was suntanned a deep bronze, so deep that his smile looked dangerously bright. His long hair was slicked straight back and darkened from the water, but Steve could see it was sun-streaked. An Abercrombie & Fitch ad come to life, a fucking nightmare of a guy, Steve thought. But even worse, he wasn’t just some chiseled waiter-actor or model-poseur or jock–beach bum that infested South Beach like cockroaches in the hotels. No, this guy had a history with Victoria, and with fissures already appearing in the professional relationship of Solomon & Lord, Steve was starting to feel insecure about their personal relationship as well.
    “Jun-ior,” Victoria breathed, her face pressed to the window, somehow making the name sound pornographic. “My, but he’s all grown up.”
    Was it Steve’s imagination, or was her breath fogging the window?
    Standing on the pontoon, one arm gripping the strut—all the better to display his undulating muscles—Junior Griffin turned squarely toward the fuselage, and now Steve noticed one final attribute. The sizable bulge in his Speedos. Steve wasn’t sure where Victoria’s gaze was directed, but he could swear he heard her sigh.

Nine
     
    SPEEDO GUY
     
    The seaplane rolled onto the concrete ramp at the water’s edge. Bobby clambered down the stairs, followed by Victoria and Steve. In an instant, Junior appeared, kissing Victoria swiftly on the lips, then twirling her off her feet in a big, wet hug.
    “Wow! You’re here,” he said. “You’re really here.”
    She laughed at his enthusiasm, so straightforward and without irony or sarcasm.
    He set her back down on the dock as if she were made of glass and looked into her eyes. “Tori, I’ve really missed you.”
    Tori. No one had called her that since she was twelve. In fact, nobody except Junior had ever called her that, and just now it sounded so sweet and lovable that she felt herself blush.
    Junior exchanged pleasantries with Steve and Bobby but never broke eye contact with Victoria. Was his smile always this radiant, she wondered, his dimples so deep? His eyes were a deep blue, almost the color of one of her eyeshadows, Adriatic Azure. She watched him towel off and pull a pair of white canvas shorts over his Speedos. The rich golden hue of his skin, the lingering taste of salt water from