A Dangerous Harbor Read Online Free Page A

the ham net, aka the "Coconut Telegraph." Guilt or innocence to be decided along with tomorrow's weather report.
    Her cabin fan had been on the fritz since San Diego, and since there was still no return call from the inspector, she decided that a trip to replace it would be just the ticket to get away from the curiosity of the other boaters. Gathering her purse, she swept out the gate and took a taxi to a downtown marina store she thought might have one. Surely, replacement boat fans would be a popular item in any marine store. She also expected it would be a high-ticket item.
    The inside of the store was cool from a hardworking, if somewhat noisy, air conditioner.   It also had the friendly and familiar smell of rope and teak of marine stores everywhere. No one was at the sales counter so she snagged a small, rusted, wobbly-wheeled grocery cart and walked up and down the aisles while she thought.
    Why would the chief inspector chain her to the dock if she was free to go? No return call and not available when a fellow police officer wished to speak to him? Obviously his cell number wasn't available to the likes of her. Probably home having a siesta. What was the man up to and what could she do about it? She could take it up with his superior, if he had one. He had the look of the top man, and unless her eyes fooled her, she also knew a handmade Italian suit when she saw it. The man was an egotist to think he could pull this kind of stunt. Well, we'll see about that, Inspector Vignaroli .
    Gabe was a complication she certainly didn't expect. While she was cogitating on the whereabouts of Gabe Alexander, she passed up the display for electrical wall fans. Backing up and going down the aisle again, she slowed down and looked on both sides, knowing as she did that Mexicans didn't always stock their parts as Americans would. Teak decking could show up next to toilet paper and her fan just might have taken up residence next to marine toilets. Finally giving up, she found a ship's bell anchored to the counter, and in her frustration she gave the short monkey's knot a hard pull. The clanging bell brought a short, thin Mexican from the back of the store. He signaled for her to wait, then wiping his face with a napkin he scurried down the aisle to take his place behind the counter. Giving her a toothy, gold-filled smile, he wiped his hands on his shirt and asked in broken English if he could help.
    "Yes, please," she said, handing him the fan. "I'm looking for one of these. You had them last year when I came in, but I don't see them on the shelves now."
    He turned it over, examined it carefully, tugged at the wires hanging out of the back and then handed it back. "Yes, we used to carry these, but no more."
    "Really? You can't get them?"
    He shrugged. " No hay ."
    "Yeah, yeah, I got that. You don't have any now, but when will you get them again?"
    " Lo siento . No hay ."
    "I'm sorry too, but look," she said, pointing to his collection of marine parts on the wall behind the counter, "there's one up on your wall."
    He turned to admire the fan she was pointing at and said, "We used to have them, but they sell out. We buy again, but too quickly they sell. They do not stay in the store, so we no to buy them anymore."
    She started to giggle then stopped herself. The man was serious. This reminded her of the time she and her friends flew into San Carlos. With reservations in one of the top favorite beach hotels, they were shocked to see the place mostly empty. When she asked why no one else was there, they were told that business had been bad lately. Katy then waved a price sheet in front of the desk clerk. "Then why're your prices now twice what we paid?"
    The desk clerk answered in a small voice, "Business is bad?"
    Incredulous, Katy was unable to throttle back her astonishment. "So the cure is to raise your prices?"
    The desk clerk had ducked his head between his ears and quailed at this American woman. " Sí ?"
    Grabbing her broken fan out