Mango Motel

by Bill H Myers

  I nodded. “Did he ask you any more questions about Shady Haven? Maybe about how much money it would take to buy a place like that?”

  “No, we got busy after that, taking care of the lunch rush. In fact, we stayed pretty busy until closing time. He didn't say much the rest of the day. He just complained about the heat and grunted every time we got an order.”

  I thought about what she had said. “Let me guess. He asked the question about what kind of business you wanted to do next on the second day he worked with you. Am I right?”

  Erin squinted, trying to remember. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was the second day. The last day we worked together. The last day that I saw him.”

  I smiled. “Okay, maybe we're getting somewhere. We know he said he's getting in on the ground floor of something. And we know he's interested in tourist attractions and video games. He said he wants to work where it's air-conditioned. That rules out just about everything outdoors, including food trucks.

  “There are lots of tourist attractions in town, and many are inside with air conditioning. Maybe he's thinking along those lines. Finding a tourist attraction he could buy.”

  Erin nodded. “That's not all. We know he doesn't like hard work. He'd rather be indoors sitting in front of a computer, playing video games.”

  She took a breath and said, “Maybe that's it. Maybe he's found a business for sale where people pay to play video games.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, based on what we know, that might be the kind of business he'd want to own. But how do we find out if any are for sale or are getting ready to open?”

  Erin smiled and asked, “You have a computer here?

  "Yes."

  “Good. Get it out. We'll check Craigslist, see if there are businesses in the for sale section that might fit the bill. We'll do the same on Facebook Marketplace.

  “If we don't find anything, we can go back to his trailer. Now that we know what we're looking for, we might get lucky. Maybe we'll find a newspaper with something circled in the classifieds.”

  I wasn't sure we'd be that lucky and I didn't think going back to Waldo's was such a good idea. The thugs looking for him could be watching the place. If we showed up, they might ask us questions we didn't want to answer. I didn't share my concerns with Erin. I was hoping we'd find a few leads on Craigslist and wouldn't need to go back to the trailer.

  I went to the closet in my bedroom, grabbed my laptop and brought it back up front. Four minutes later, we were sitting at the kitchen table scanning the businesses for sale listings on Craigslist.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “How about this one?”

  I pointed to the listing for an affiliate marketing program. I knew it was a scam and figured Erin did too. She didn't disappoint. She said, “Waldo's not that dumb. He's close but not there yet.”

  Scanning down the list, we saw several vending machines for sale, supposedly turnkey. All you had to do was buy the machines, convince businesses to let you put them in their buildings, then buy inventory and restock the machines.

  It sounded iffy. Too much work. Not the kind of business that would appeal to Waldo.

  There were three food trucks for sale, none of them operational. We figured that after his two days working with Erin in her hot truck, he probably knew he wasn't cut out for that kind of work.

  There were a few other businesses for sale—a barbershop, a tattoo shop, and a sign-printing business. These could be profitable if run by the right person. But that person wouldn't be Waldo. From what we knew about him, he didn't have the skills needed to cut hair or operate a tattoo gun.

  We checked the first two hundred and twenty listings and nothing jumped out at us.

  Disappointed with what we hadn’t found on Craigslist, but not ready to give up on the search, I suggested we look at eBay. Erin had a better idea. She said, “Stay on Craigslist. Check the video game section. Maybe we'll find something there.”

  Her suggestion made sense. Waldo had said he was big into video games. If he found a business that had something to do with computers and games, and he felt he could get in on the ground floor, it might be just the thing.

  I clicked over to the gaming category, and we started scanning the listings; the same as we had done with the businesses for sale.

  Most were for old game cartridges being sold. A few game controllers, some old Nintendo systems, and PS2 games. None of which we thought he'd be interested in.

  But there was one listing that seemed promising. A complete video gaming parlor. A place where people could go and play video games. The inventory included twenty-two inter-connected high-speed computers, a router, a wireless network, and a payment gateway.

  The description said that the items were from a profitable walk-in gaming parlor and the sale included everything needed to restart the business. The kicker in the description was the words, “Ground floor opportunity for the right person.”

  We agreed it was the kind of business Waldo might be attracted to. But we didn't know if the equipment was still for sale. The listing didn't include a phone number. Just a blind email address through Craigslist. The seller didn't want the world to see his phone number or actual email address.

  Having posted several items on Craigslist, I knew why he had done it that way. Every time I put something up there for sale, I'd get a lot of junk email and phone calls from people trying to scam me. They'd usually say they were sending a money order for the full price. After it arrived, they promised one of their friends would come by and pick up the item.

  Of course, the money order would be fake and if you let the 'friend' take the item before the bank alerted you to the fraud, you'd end up empty-handed. No money and no item.

  People who frequently used Craigslist to sell items knew better than to show their contact info in the ad. Using Craigslist's blind email forwarding service was the best way to keep the scammers at bay.

  We weren't scammers, but we did want to know if the gaming equipment had been sold, and, if so, to whom. The only way to find out was to use the Craigslist contact form to send an email to the seller.

  I typed out a message and had Erin review it before I sent it. It said, “I might be interested in your gaming parlor equipment. Is it still for sale? If so, when and where can it be seen? We are in Saint Augustine and can meet you anytime.”

  I included Erin's phone number and signed it with her name, figuring anyone selling a video gaming parlor would probably reply to a message from a woman faster than they would from a man.

  After she changed two words in the message, I clicked “send”.

  We didn't expect a reply right away. Most sellers wouldn't be spending their time sitting in front of their computer waiting for the next email from Craigslist. Most would check their inboxes once or twice a day and then reply whenever they felt like it.

  It might take time for the seller to get back to us, but at least it was a promising lead. The first we'd had.

  We scanned another hundred listings and didn't find anything we thought Waldo would be interested in. But we weren't going to give up. At least not yet.

  “Think we should still check eBay?”

  Erin nodded. “Yeah, we should. Waldo probably looked there as well. I sure would have.”

  I entered eBay's URL, and we were soon on the site. I clicked on the “business for sale” category, and we started scanning the ads. The first few pages were full of turnkey adult video and cam girl websites, travel and dating websites, and wholesale perfumes.

  Nothing we thought would appeal to Waldo, except maybe the adult video and webcam businesses. But I suspected if he was interested in cam girls, he'd visit them in the privacy of his bedroom.

  Finding nothing in the general business category, I narrowed the search to retail businesses in the Saint Augustine area. This produced fewer but far more interesting results.

  Among the businesses for sale were a pawn shop, a vape store, a tire store and something called the Monkey Train. We ruled
out the pawnshop and tire store; both were priced well above what Waldo could afford. The vape store was in his price range, but we weren't sure it would be something he'd be interested in.

  The Monkey Train was a different story. It checked a few of Waldo's boxes. It was a tourist attraction consisting of three cartoon train cars being pulled by a battery-powered golf cart that looked like a train engine. It currently operated indoors (in a mall) and was an all-cash business. There were no fixed hours, which meant the operator could sleep in and close down whenever they wanted to. It sounded exactly what Waldo would be interested in.

  I clicked the link to learn more and everything looked good until I reached the final line in the description. It said, “Currently located in Colorado Springs, Colorado.”

  For most people, including Waldo if he had any sense, the distant location and the cost of transporting the train to Florida would be a deal killer.

  We continued to scan the ads, page after page, until Erin said, “There's something. A clothing optional RV park. Click the link. I want to see what it says.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Erin asked me to read the listing out loud. I did, using my best announcer voice.

  30 Site Clothing Optional RV Resort with 11.5+/- acres in St. Johns County, Florida

  Includes:

  Office/Restaurant building

  Tiki Bar

  Restaurant with liquor Licenses

  Clubhouse

  Large Heated Pool

  12-person Spa

  Two Bath Houses

  Tennis & Pickle ball Courts

  This is a private gated community. 100% occupancy since 2015. 25% full-time renters. Complete with all the staff and equipment necessary to continue its spectacular growth.

  Five hundred thousand. Owner financing available with ten percent down.

  When I finished reading, Erin said, “That sounds pretty good. I wonder how much the place brings in each month.”

  Before I could answer, she said, “If they have thirty sites and charge eight hundred a month that comes to twenty-four thousand. You'd have to subtract utilities, insurance, and wages, but it should still be pretty profitable. Might be a fun business to have.”

  She was smiling while rubbing her chin. Obviously thinking it through.

  Just to be sure we were on the same page, I asked, “You think Waldo might be interested in this? Running a clothing optional RV park?”

  She shook her head. “I'm not sure about Waldo. But it might be something I'm interested in.”

  I thought she was joking, so I said, “Yeah right. I could see it now. You out there naked in the bright sun, greeting new visitors. But I can't see how it would work. A fair maiden such as yourself would burn in no time.

  “Still, if you bought the place, I'd be one of your first customers. As long as you promised to greet me at the gate in just your birthday suit.”

  She smiled. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me running around naked for your amusement. But that's not the way I'd do it. I'd keep my clothes on and let the staff do all the naked stuff.

  “You could still come, but you'd have to drop your drawers at the gate.”

  She grinned. “I might even offer you a discount if you did.”

  She pulled out her phone, took a photo of the listing and said, “Maybe I'll look into it. It might work as my next business.”

  I still wasn't sure if she was joking, but whether she was or not, her talking about us seeing each other naked was a step in the right direction.

  We didn't find anything else that seemed legit or of interest to Waldo in the businesses for sale section, so Erin suggested we check the real estate category and limit the search to Florida.

  I did the search and found eighteen listings in the Saint Augustine area. Most were for vacant lots or tax lien properties. There was a six-plex for sale at what seemed like a reasonable price, but in the photos, it looked like a real dump that needed a lot of work.

  Still, I asked Erin about it. “How about this one? You could fix it up, rent out the apartments, and have a steady stream of income. Maybe this would work for Waldo?”

  She nodded. “You’re right. It might be something he'd be interested in. But I don't see how it fits his 'getting in on the ground floor' thinking. But we should follow up on it, just in case. Send the seller a message. Just like the one we sent before. Find out where the building is and if it is still available.”

  I typed up the message and sent it off.

  That meant we had at least two promising leads. Three if you included the clothing optional RV resort.

  We scanned the other real estate listings and didn't find anything else of interest. It looked like the video game parlor, the six-plex and the clothing optional RV resort were the three most likely candidates.

  We weren't sure that any of them would appeal to Waldo or work within his budget. But eBay and Craigslist weren't the only places he might have looked.

  “You said you used to work in a real estate office? Do you think any of your contacts there could tell us if he made an offer or bought anything around here? If he has, it would make it a whole lot easier to find him.”

  She looked at the clock on her phone and said, “Their office closed at five, so there won't be anyone there now. I can call in the morning and see what I can find out. If the deal has closed, they can give me the details. But they won't be able to tell me anything about pending offers. Those stay confidential.”

  She leaned back, crossed her arms, and smiled. I was pretty sure she was still thinking about the RV park we'd found on eBay. Maybe she was serious about it. If she were, I'd be happy to go with her to check it out.

  I started to tell her this, but my stomach growled. We hadn't eaten since lunch and it was fast approaching dinner time. Erin beat me to the question I was planning to ask. “Dinner? Are we going to eat here or go out?

  Before I could answer, she said, “I vote we go out. We can cross the bridge, park at the fort, and walk through old town. Maybe we'll see a sign for a new business getting ready to open. Or something about a ground floor opportunity.

  “Either way, there are lots of cafes and restaurants there and we can grab dinner.”

  She stood and said, “I'm going to go freshen up. Then it'll be your turn. After that, we go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ten minutes later, we were in Raif's white ex-police car, heading toward Saint Augustine's historic district. Public access to the fort at Castillo de San Marcos had ended at five and we didn't have any trouble finding a parking space in its large lot.

  Erin locked up the car and we crossed over San Marcos and made our way up to Fort Alley. From there, it was a short walk to Saint George, one of the oldest streets in the country.

  Narrow and cobble-stoned, it had been turned into a pedestrian-only walkway. Both sides were lined with structures that looked to have been built two hundred years earlier. Most had been converted into cafes, bars, ice cream parlors, and gift shops. But many retained the flavor of the swashbuckling era.

  The storekeepers and others walking around in pirate costumes helped seal the illusion. Had the street not been packed with modern-day tourists with their fancy gadgets and immodest apparel, it would have been easy to believe that one had somehow stepped back in time.

  But the gaggle of tourists, along with contemporary music being pumped out from a number of the taverns that lined the street, gave it more of the vibe of a Disney-theme park, than a true historical site. Still, it was a pretty interesting place.

  As we weaved through the crowds, Erin grabbed my hand and said, “If Waldo was going to open a tourist business, this would be the street to be on. We should walk to the end, looking for signs about new businesses about to open or ground-floor opportunities.”

  A walk sounded good to me. We'd spent half the day either in bed or on the computer. With the day's heat fading and the cool breezes coming off the Matanzes River it was near perfect weather for walking.


  Still holding my hand, Erin led the way through a maze of tourists, many of whom were paying more attention to the buildings around them than the people in front of them. Several times we had to come to a full stop to avoid being hit by a cone licker looking at their phone instead of watching where they were going.

  Had I been in a hurry or had a place I needed to be, the throngs of tourists blocking our way would have bothered me.

  But not that day. The weather was perfect, Erin was holding my hand, and the buildings around us were interesting. I was tempted to pull out my phone and shoot a few photos of our surroundings. Just like a tourist. But I resisted. Erin had my phone hand, and I wasn't going to let go.

  As we walked, we kept to the right side of the street, slowing at each store-front, looking for signs about new business openings or business opportunities. There was no shortage of signs but most were promoting in-store discounts, upcoming events, and second-floor accommodations. None that we saw were what we were looking for.

  We stayed on Saint George, crossing over the side streets of Hypolita and Treasury. Both were similar to St George. Cobblestones, pedestrian-only, lined with historic buildings and shops. I wanted to explore them further, but Erin said we needed to wait. She said if we came back the next day, we could catch a ride on the Old Town Trolley. It would take us to many of Saint Augustine's historic sites, including the streets we were on and the fabled Fountain of Youth.

  The trolley tour sounded like a good idea. We could visit all the attractions and not worry about traffic or parking. If Erin was still up to it, we'd do it the next day. In the morning before it got too hot.

  When we reached the crosswalk at Saint George and the fast-moving traffic on Business One, we turned around and walked back the way we had come, staying on the right side of the street, still looking for new businesses and ground-floor opportunities.