Drunk on a Plane

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Drunk on a Plane Page 14

by Zane Mitchell


  Al clapped his hands together. “See? This is the good stuff. This is exciting. What do you think he put in there?”

  I frowned. “If I had to guess? Drugs.”

  Al’s eyes widened, and he looked at his door as if he was afraid to get caught with drugs in his room. “Really?” he breathed. “You think there’s drugs in there?”

  “Only one way to find out.” I unzipped the bag and opened it. The contents were all jumbled about from the flights, the layovers, the toss over the balcony, the jiggling of the tree vine, and the long walk back to my room.

  “This is how you pack?” scoffed Al.

  I swatted his arm with the back of my hand. “Oh, shut it. This bag’s been through a lot.”

  Without touching anything, Al’s head tipped from side to side like a cat staring at a bug as it walked across the floor. “I don’t see any drugs.”

  With two fingers, I plucked out one of the Hawaiian shirts Pam had bought for me, held it over the bag and gave it a good shake, making sure that there wasn’t anything rolled up inside.

  “You were gonna throw that shirt away? What’s wrong with it?”

  “My ex bought it. It’s not exactly a Drunk shirt, you know.”

  Al frowned and widened his eyes, like he didn’t get it. “But it’s a nice shirt. You’re just gonna keep buying new shirts in the clothing store when you have these perfectly good shirts to wear?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll make you take me into town and we’ll buy some of those cheap t-shirts they were selling in the tents on the corner.”

  Al folded the Hawaiian shirt and placed it neatly on his sofa. “I’m not going to let you throw that away. It’s still got the price tag on it. That cost your fiancée good money.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ex-fiancée, and you mean that cost me good money. But do whatever. You can have it.” I plucked out the next shirt and shook it, and nothing came out.

  Little by little, Al and I sifted through the contents of the bag, checking all the pockets, but ultimately coming up empty. “Well, what the hell?” I said by the time we’d emptied the bag and found only the shorts, underwear, and hideous button-down shirts Pam had packed. The only thing I’d found of interest was a pair of running shoes that I’d forgotten I’d packed for myself. For a split second, I was thankful that I’d gone back to get the bag, just so I could have a pair of real shoes again. Despite that discovery, I frowned. I’d been sure that Jimmie had done something to my bag.

  Al’s eyes scanned the clothes scattered around his living room and then the empty suitcase. “You checked the front pockets?”

  I swished my lips to the side. “No. It hadn’t occurred to me that whatever Jimmie had put in my bag would be small enough to fit in one of the outside pockets.” I flipped the bag shut, unzipped the top pocket, and stuck my hand inside. There was an empty Dr. Pepper bottle and my travel itinerary. “Nothing.”

  Al pointed to the bottom one. “Try that one.”

  I held my breath. It was literally the last chance we had. I unzipped it and stuck my hand inside. I felt something! My fingers wrapped around what felt like a plastic bag, and I slowly pulled it out of the suitcase. Holding the bag in the palm of my hand I showed it to Al.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking down at it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s not yours?”

  I shook my head. “Definitely not mine.”

  His wrinkled hand trembled as he covered his gaping mouth. “So he did put something in there. This is exciting.”

  I strode into the kitchen, where the light coming in from the outside was brighter, unzipped the baggie and poured the contents onto Al’s kitchen counter. There were several different items. One looked like a flash drive. Another looked like some type of key fob or remote car starter attached to a lanyard. The third was a small piece of stainless steel slightly larger than a credit card. It was hinged on one side and opened up to expose a series of letters and numbers. I shook my head. “I have no idea what any of this is. You?”

  Al touched the assorted items while shaking his head. He was just as clueless as I was. “At least you were right about Jimmie putting something in your bag. This has to be what those guys wanted.”

  “It has to be,” I agreed. “Just wish I knew what this stuff was.” I lifted the flash drive. “I mean, I know what this is. It’s like one of those storage drives. It’s probably got something important on it, but I don’t have a computer. And if I did, I’m probably not going to know what I’m looking at. How about you? You got a computer lying around?”

  Al shook his head. “No. No computer for me.”

  I put a hand on my hips. “This really sucks, Al. You know, if we were in the US, I could turn this stuff over to a network of people and they’d, you know, analyze it and tell me what it is. Down here, we’re on our own. There’s no network of people to rely on.”

  Al grinned. “Oh, you don’t think I have people down here?” He raised a finger into the air. “What did I tell you? I’ve got people.”

  I pursed my lips. “You have people.”

  Al did his best to look offended. “Hell yeah, I have people. Lots of people. There’s Big Eddie and Ralph the Weasel. Not to worry, I’ll hook you up.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Big Eddie and Ralph the Weasel? You’re consorting with mobsters down here, Al? There something I should know about you?”

  “All you need to know about me is that I got this. Okay? Trust me?”

  I shrugged. “Fine. Let’s go see your people, Al. I trust you.”

  30

  Pocketing the contents of the baggie, Al and I took a golf cart down to the pool. It was hot by now and well past lunch.

  “You want a sandwich? I’m starving.” Al pointed to a little poolside shack where two young women in white aprons were making sandwiches on request. The snack bar was little more than a picnic-shelter-style roof set atop wooden posts and surrounded by a waist-high counter on four sides with an opening in the back. There were two chest freezers in the center, set end to end, and two under the counter refrigerators. On top of the counters were simple gadgets like an industrial-size panini maker, a microwave, and a commercial deep fryer. The key word there was casual dining. “They have the best chicken wraps here.”

  “Yeah, I’d take a chicken wrap.” My stomach had been set on a low, steady rumble ever since leaving Ozzy’s office. A chicken wrap sounded divine.

  He nodded and knocked on the countertop. Despite the long line of poolgoers looking for a snack, one of the workers gave a half glance up at Al. “Just a min…” Recognition crossed her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Becker. You’re back! It’s good to see ya. I’m almost done with this one. You want the usual?”

  He shot her a wink. “Trinity, good to see you too, dollface.” He pointed at me. “This is my friend Drunk. It’s his first time on the island. You wanna make him one of your special wraps too?”

  “Sure thing. He’s gonna fall in love with them just like you did.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Then he pointed towards the clubhouse. “We have a meeting inside. But we’ll be back in about ten minutes, alright?”

  She nodded. “I’ll have ’em ready by the time you’re back.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  We walked away, and I looked down at Al in his ribbed white Hanes tank top and green shorts with pink hibiscus flowers that exposed his knobby knees. My whole life, I’d considered myself somewhat of a charmer, but Al seemed to have the market on charm cornered. “Do you know everyone on this island?”

  “I know everyone who works at the resort and all the regulars that come here,” he admitted. Then he shrugged and shot me a wicked smile. “I only know half of the people who live on the island.”

  “Half, that’s all?” I grinned, not believing his bullshit for a second.

  He led me up the stairs to the wraparound porch of what he called the clubhouse. Inside there was a fancy dining restaurant, a sports b
ar, a dance hall, and some meeting rooms. We walked through the restaurant all the way to the back and out the French doors to the porch on the other side. Six old men sat around, playing cards and smoking stogies.

  “Fellas!” called out Al.

  “Albert, how ya doing, buddy?” called one of them. He was an overweight, boisterous man in a motorized four-wheeled scooter, wearing a blue bucket hat with a cord that hung down over his chins.

  Al clapped the man on his meaty shoulder. “I’m good. I’m good. Fellas, I want to introduce my new friend to you. This is Drunk. Drunk, this is…”

  “Lemme guess. This is Big Eddie?” I interrupted, extending a hand.

  Al’s smile disappeared. “No. Big Eddie? No, why would you say that? This is Tony.” He pointed across the table to a shriveled-up old man in a short-sleeved white button-down shirt with a pocket protector. His skin was so pasty white that he looked as if he’d spent the last fifty or sixty years holed up in a windowless basement doing people’s taxes. “That’s Big Eddie.”

  I shook my head. I should have guessed. “Hey, Big Eddie, Tony,” I said, nodding at them both.

  Then Al pointed at the guy to his right. He was a tall, thin black man with fuzzy white hair and a flat nose. He reminded me a little of Morgan Freeman, but without the speckles on his face. “This is Ralph the Weasel.”

  “Hey, Ralph,” I said, shaking his hand.

  Next he pointed at a man wearing a pale pink polo shirt tucked into his belted denim jeans. The man had a potbelly and a receding hairline. “That’s Gary Wheelan. He lives down the road from you. He’s the one with the Land Cruiser. And that’s Bob Hope and Elton John.” Al pointed at each of the men in turn as he named them.

  I leaned down towards Al and whispered out of the side of my mouth. “Those are their real names?”

  Tony chuckled. “Yeah, and I’m Tony Soprano.”

  I smirked. “Okay, now I know you guys are fuckin’ with me.”

  Tony laughed again. “Hehehe. It’s nice to meet you, Drunk,” he boomed, clapping me on the back. “You wanna play some cards?” He pointed at one of the men. “Deal ’em in, Bob.”

  Al held up a flattened palm. “Oh, no, no. Trinity’s making us lunch out at the snack bar. I just wanted to introduce you. I was also hoping that maybe we could pick Big Eddie’s brain for a minute.”

  Eddie looked up in surprise. “My brain?” His voice was timid, like he didn’t get his brain picked often and he wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that.

  “Yeah. You’re the computer genius around here.” He looked at me and then pointed at Eddie again. “Big Eddie here used to work for Dell.”

  “It’s been over ten years,” said Eddie. His eyes shifted nervously as he fidgeted with the cards in his hand.

  Al waved a hand in the air. “Ah, it’s just like riding a bike. You don’t forget that stuff.”

  Eddie shrugged. “It’s not exactly like riding a bike, Al. Bike’s haven’t changed much over the years. Technology changes constantly. But I’ll do what I can. What do you need?”

  “Show him,” prodded Al.

  I walked around the table and dropped the baggie of stuff in front of Eddie.

  Eddie picked it up and turned it slowly in front of his eyes. “What is this stuff?”

  “We’re not really sure,” I said. I pointed at one of the items. “I think that one’s a flash drive or something.”

  “Well, yeah, I can see that much. What’s on it?”

  “That’s what we were hoping you could tell us. Drunk and I are working on something. Something big, fellas. Now I can’t say much just yet, and we need extreme professionalism here. You can’t go shooting your mouths off about this, okay?”

  Their eyes were all wide as they nodded seriously, like they’d been let in on a secret mission. “What’s going on, Al?” asked Tony.

  “Well, you heard about the shooting the other day in room two seventy-seven?”

  They nodded in unison, but no one said a word.

  “That was Drunk’s room. Someone snuck those items into his bag on the plane in from Atlanta, and we think the people who killed that man were looking for the things in that bag. So whatever that stuff is, it’s big.”

  Eddie’s hands recoiled and the baggie dropped onto the table. “S-someone got killed because of the stuff in this bag?”

  “Now don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, Eddie. No one knows you’ve got it, so you’ll be just fine. Like I said, just don’t go running your mouths, understand?”

  Everyone around the table nodded, but Eddie looked hesitant to pick up the bag. “I-I don’t know, Al. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Eddie. Grow a pair, will ya? We were all just talking about needing something to spice things up down here. Well, I’m bringing you the spice!”

  Eddie pointed at Tony. “Tony a-and Gary were the ones talking about that. I-I’m okay with it being quiet down here.”

  “Oh, come on, Eddie,” begged Tony, wide-eyed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Eddie’s eyes widened as a roll call of the worst things that could happen apparently flashed in front of his eyes. “L-lots of things,” he said, pushing his glasses up between his eyes. “These guys could kill me, for starters. Or, you know, torture me to get information.”

  “They’d have to know where you were to kill you. And they’d have to know that you had their stuff,” I said. “They don’t know either of those things. You’re totally safe, Eddie.”

  “Listen to him, Eddie. Drunk’s a cop in the States.”

  Everyone looked up at me with pride shining in their eyes then.

  “Drunk, you’re a cop?” asked Tony.

  I was forced to nod. I gave them a tight smile. I was going to have to tell Al to quit telling people that. The more people who knew, the more people who would actually expect something out of me.

  “I was a security guard at the Mall of America for thirty-two years, Drunk,” said Gary from across the table.

  “Nice.”

  Al nodded. “See, Eddie? Gary can stand lookout when you see what’s on that flashy doohickey.”

  Eddie’s timid brown eyes flashed up to look at Gary, who gave him a confident nod. “Well, I suppose I can check this stuff out.”

  “We appreciate that a lot, Eddie,” I said, giving him a squeeze on his bony, turned-in shoulders.

  Eddie winced.

  “Okay, Drunk. We need to keep moving if we’re going to make any progress today.” He looked at the guys. “You know, Eddie, we could really use that information today if possible. Drunk here doesn’t have a lot of time to mess around. He’s supposed to fly back to the States next week, but the island cops aren’t going to let him if this murder investigation is still hanging over his head.”

  Eddie sighed and threw down his cards. “There’s a computer room in the clubhouse.”

  Tony zoomed forward on his scooter. “We don’t have to finish our card game fellas. Why don’t we go check it out now?”

  Gary dropped his cards too. “Yeah, what are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.”

  I rubbed my now-fiercely-growling stomach. “Al and I will be in shortly. But first, we have a date with a chicken wrap.”

  31

  Two baskets of chicken wraps and fries were waiting for us at the snack bar when we returned. The line had gone down significantly, and the two women were taking time to clean and restock their work areas before another big rush hit.

  “Busy today,” remarked Al while squeezing some ketchup into his basket.

  “Nonstop,” agreed Trinity. She stopped wiping the counter and looked up at us. “When did ya get back to the island, Mr. Becker?”

  “Two days ago,” he said, sticking a fry in his mouth.

  A warm smile spread across her face as she leaned on the counter. She was a pretty girl, young and curvaceous. Her skin was like smooth chocolate, and her eyes sparkled like twin emeralds. She wore her hair in long braid
s, gathered and bound at the nape of her neck. “Two days ago an’ ya haven’t come by to say hello yet?” Her long eyelashes fluttered downwards, pretending to be offended.

  “Easy now, I’ve been busy. I’ve been running this guy around the island.”

  She turned her eyes on me then. “And who is this guy again?”

  “Drunk,” I said, extending a hand. “You’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re mesmerizing.”

  She turned her warm smile on me next. “Well, aren’t ya a sweet one,” she purred in her pronounced Caribbean accent. Then she gestured towards my basket of food. “Have ya tried the wrap yet?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t need to be asked twice. I picked up one of the halves and jammed a third of it in my mouth. I tasted bacon and ranch dressing with the chicken. “Mmm,” I moaned suggestively, closing my eyes as I swallowed the first bite. Perhaps I’d exaggerated a bit for her benefit, but I was starving and hadn’t taken the time to properly savor that first bite. I’d pay more attention to the next bite. “So good,” I said with a mouthful.

  She smiled from ear to ear. “My specialty.”

  “I’m going to be down here every day now that I know where the good stuff is.”

  “I like this guy,” she said to Al, hooking her thumb over her shoulder in my direction.

  With another mouthful of food, I smiled broadly at Al as if to say, “See? I can charm people too.”

  Then her smile disappeared, and she tipped her head sideways. “Wait. Your name is Drunk? As in Officer Daniel Drunk?”

  My smile was fast to fade. Reflexively, I swallowed. The mostly unchewed bite of food went down hard, causing me to sputter and cough. I looked up with watery eyes. “Where’d you hear that name?”

  She plumped out her bottom lip. It was pink and pillowy and ridiculously adorable, and at any other time I might have made a cavalier offer to bite it, but something inside me told me this was no time for jokes. “Some fellas were lookin’ for ya earlier,” she said with a faint shrug.

 

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