Page 38 of Perfume Girl
A waitress hurried over when she saw me heading toward the kitchen. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for the owner.”
“He’s talking with someone right now. Why don’t you grab a drink at the bar—”
“I believe he’s talking with a friend of mine, Garcia Rena? He’s the head biologist over at South Beach Marine Center.”
“Oh, okay. They’re chatting in Hank’s office.”
“Where’s that?”
She pointed me in the right direction. “What’s this about?”
“Time is of the essence.”
She led me down a short hallway and I followed the raised voices. Garcia Rena was going at it with the restaurateur. This was not like him—Garcia was a quiet spoken man who had dedicated his life to his work. He led the conservation volunteers with integrity and a sense of fun. I was proud to call him a good friend.
For years, I had joined his team on their quest to save the turtles, clean the beaches, and offer both financial support and time. It was a great distraction from business and a worthwhile course that had me feeling like I was giving back.
I hated seeing him like this. “Hey, Garcia,” I let him know I was here.
The office was small and dank and the man on the other side of the shabby desk had a red face and a bad attitude. Both of them looked riled up and equally backed into a corner.
Garcia’s kind eyes were full of worry as he held my gaze. “Hey, Astor. He refuses to cooperate. He’s keeping his lights on no matter what.”
“May I?” I stepped into the office. “Garcia, why don’t you go join the others? The turtles have started hatching.”
He glared at the man behind the desk. “This is the law. You know that.”
The man’s jowls wobbled. “Fine me.”
“Garcia.” My tone was insistent. “I’ve got this.”
He gave a nod of acknowledgment and I watched him leave, right before he gave me a look that told me he needed this done.
I faced the man, resting my fists on his desk. “Thousands of sea turtles are about to hatch. They will crawl toward the brightest horizon which happens to be this place, which means they won’t survive. Turn off your lights.”
“I’ve been over this with Garcia.”
“It’s Dr. Rena, to you. Why won’t you be reasonable?”
He reached out to shake my hand. “Sorry, didn’t catch your name?”
I stood straight, not falling for the attempted distraction. “My name doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re using a long wavelength light for the front of your restaurant. The law says your walkways need to be shielded. What the hell is the problem here?”
“Speak to my lawyer.”
I pointed toward the beach. “This place is about to cause a massacre.”
“So what if a few sea turtles get turned around.”
“We can’t afford to lose even one.”
“Birds are picking them off all the time.”
“You do realize sea turtles take care of the grass bed that millions of fish, crustaceans, and shellfish depend on to survive. No sea turtles, no fish.”
He leaned back. “I’ll serve steak.”
