Judgement and Wrath Read Online Free Page B

Washington Avenue and followed it south until I saw the Portofino Tower, a huge terracotta-coloured edifice that Rink had told me about. Here I swung west, back towards the marina overlooking Baker Island. There’s no road across to Baker Island; the rich and famous demand privacy. The only way across was by boat or helicopter.
    Once the Vanderbilts owned exclusive rights to the island, but after it was sold for development in the 1960s more than two hundred homes had been erected on the man-made land. It still remained exclusive to the super-rich set, and once had equalled nearby Fisher Island as one of the richest per-capita locations in the USA. Maybe it still did. The northern portion of the island was barely settled, but in the south-west it was well developed with mega-homes. That was where I hoped to locate Marianne Dean.
    Jumping a ride over on a water taxi, I arrived at the island among a group of giggling teenagers. It was handy, because there were a couple of bodyguards within the group, and I blended in with the stern-faced men who watched me as though I was a challenge to their employment. Once I was back on dry land, I hired what looked like a beach buggy and drove the short way over to yet another marina on the south-west shore. There, Tiffany, my real estate agent, passed over the keys to the condominium I’d leased. The week-long rental had already snatched a significant portion of the twenty K Richard Dean had supplied, but I wasn’t there because of the money.
    My prime concern was getting Marianne Dean to a safe place. Richard Dean had painted a pretty ugly picture of Bradley Jorgenson and the way he treated the girl, but there was something about the man’s motivation that was giving me cause to question how I’d complete my task. Dean wanted Bradley stopped – no longer a threat to him or any of his family – and I knew exactly what he meant by that. He didn’t strike me as the overly affectionate type of father and he seemed more concerned with punishing Bradley than with getting Marianne home.
    From the balcony of the condo, I looked over a circular swimming pool, which in turn looked over a palm-fringed garden and down on to the marina. Yachts and motor cruisers seemed to be the preferred mode of transport here.
    To my left was the house that Jorgenson had leased for the summer. He had his permanent place of residence up the coast at Neptune Island and a boat moored at Puerto Banus, in Spain, but this was my best chance for getting Marianne away from him.
    I was there on a scouting mission. Rink would join me later after he’d finished a little business of his own in Tampa. Dressed in shades, a short-sleeved cotton shirt and Bermuda shorts, I set myself up on the private balcony. A glance over the rail and I could see beautiful bikini-clad women frolicking in next door’s pool. The deckchair was comfortable and the beer cold; it was mind-numbingly boring on stakeout, but someone had to do it.
    By the time the sun started to set, the bathers had disappeared inside and my beer had grown warm. Even the executive-class sun lounger was beginning to feel like a torture device. The sunset made up for some of my chagrin, though. It was spectacular, setting Miami city and Biscayne Bay aflame with bronze and gold highlights.
    Also, as if he was a vampire out of lore, Jorgenson made his first appearance.
    In a cream linen suit, his reddish hair slicked back, and a mobile phone to his ear, he wandered out on the tiled area next to his pool. The water was like a mirror, reflecting his downcast face. Bradley didn’t seem very happy.
    ‘I’ve told you,’ he grunted into his phone. ‘Over and over again. No! When is that going to sink into your stupid fucking head?’
    Whoever he was speaking to must have pleaded their case. As he listened, Jorgenson chewed his lips, and even from my high vantage above him I could hear the rasp of his breath.
    ‘You know what I should do to you?’ Jorgenson suddenly