by Bill H Myers
After breakfast, I put the dishes in the sink, not bothering to wash them. I didn't feel like it would matter. Nothing did.
Having fought through the dream reruns the night before, and not getting much sleep, I went back to bed. With nothing else to do, I planned to stay there for the rest of the day. Maybe the next day as well.
Bob snuggled up beside me. Sometime later, while I was lying there, trying to come up with a way the night could have gone differently, my phone chimed with an incoming call. I’d left it on the kitchen counter, and I didn't want to get out of bed to go get it. But I was worried that it might be Erin, and if it was, I didn't want to miss it.
On the third ring, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. When I answered, a woman's voice said, “Walker, tell me what happened.”
The voice belonged to Marissa Chesnokov, the woman who had sent me to find Waldo. If the events of the previous night were anyone's fault, they were hers. If she hadn't asked me to find him, Erin wouldn't have been upset with me. But if Marissa hadn't sent me to Saint Augustine in the first place, I would have never met Erin. That would have been the real tragedy.
“Walker, you still there?”
I didn't want to talk, but she needed to know.
“Yeah, I'm here. I'm not feeling well. Didn't get much sleep last night.”
I was hoping she'd get the message. That I didn't want to talk to her or anyone else except Erin. I just wanted to get back in bed and be alone.
But she still wanted to talk. “Walker, we heard a rumor that Mad Dog was in Saint Augustine. Do you know anything about that?”
It was a question I didn't want to answer. But Marissa needed to know.
“Yeah, I was with him last night. He had kidnapped the woman I was with and forced me to tell him where Waldo was. I didn't want Waldo to get hurt, but I wasn't going to let Mad Dog keep the girl.
“It wasn't my fault he got shot. They should have just knocked on the door instead of kicking it down. Things would have gone differently if he had. But he didn't. That's why he got shot. It wasn't my fault.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, “Walker, are you saying Waldo got shot? And you were there? Did Mad Dog shoot him?”
“No, it wasn't Waldo who got shot, he's fine. But Mad Dog is dead. He won't be coming back to Key West or anywhere else. I doubt his two associates will either.”
There was a pause on the line as I let Marissa think about what I had just said. I waited to see what she would say.
Finally, after a few seconds of silence, she asked, “The woman, the one you said Mad Dog kidnapped? Is she okay?”
“Yes, she is. But she saw it go down and blames it on me. She wants me out of her life.”
Saying it out loud didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t want her out of my life. I wanted to be around her. Even though it had been a few hours since I last saw her, I already missed her.
“Walker, I'm sorry it turned out this way. It wasn't my intention to put you or the people around you in danger.
“I can tell you don't want to talk about it now, so we won't. But Boris will find out. He'll want to know why you were up there and what you were doing. I think it's best he hears it from me. I'll tell him everything today.
“If you need anything or someone to talk to, call me. I'm here for you.”
She ended the call.
Chapter Sixty-Five
I wanted to talk to Raif to see what his buddies down at the station had learned about the shooting. I wanted to know if they knew Erin was the woman in the SUV and if she was in any kind of trouble.
But I was pretty sure Raif wasn't in the mood to talk, at least not to me. He had said to stay away from Erin, and since she was staying with him, I didn't want to give him another reason to want me gone.
I checked the TV to see if there was any news about the shooting. The closest channel was in Jacksonville, and they didn't have anything to say about an overnight shootout in Saint Augustine. Maybe the local paper covered it.
I pulled on my shoes and sunglasses, grabbed my keys and started walking. Ten minutes later, I crossed the street at the light and went into the Pump and Munch. The man who had been behind the counter the last time I visited was still working there.
I wondered if he remembered I was in the store when the kid tried to rob it. I doubted it. He probably saw hundreds of customers a day, and unless one of them did something memorable like pulling a gun, he wouldn't remember them.
I grabbed a can of Coke from the cooler, a Kit Kat bar from the candy rack, and a copy of the St. Augustine Record. The front-page headline said, “Police investigate shootout at local motel.”
Below it, a photo of room sixteen at the Romar. Police tape blocking the door. Below the photo, a three-column article that I thought I probably should read to make sure my name wasn’t in it.
I paid at the register and took my Coke, candy, and newspaper outside. Instead of heading back to Shady Haven, I went around to the back of the store and took a seat on the same bench Raif and I had sat on after he stopped the kid with the gun.
I pulled the tab on the Coke, took a long swallow, and started reading the headline story in the paper. It didn't take me long to figure out whoever wrote the piece didn't have many details. He didn't know who was shot, why they were shot, or who else was involved.
Since the reporter didn't have any facts to go on, the article mostly dealt with the long history of problems at the Romar. There was a list of recent police calls and quotes from nearby residents mostly saying it was past time for the city or county to get the place cleaned up.
After reading the article, and happily not seeing Erin's, Raif's or my name mentioned, I relaxed a little. I unwrapped the Kit Kat bar and ate it while I read the rest of the paper.
I had gotten to the comics section when I heard footsteps.
Looking up, I saw Raif heading in my direction with a coffee cup in hand. I was sitting on his bench and knew it was time for me to leave.
When he got close, I stood, nodded a hello and said, “I never wanted this to happen.”
I started to walk away, but he stopped me. “I know it wasn't your fault. Erin told me how it happened. How Madicof's guys called and pretended they needed her help at the taco stand.
“When she got there, they scooped her up and took her to Madicof's suite. They held her but didn't harm her. They even had room service bring her dinner.
“She told me she wasn't scared. She knew you would come to her rescue. And you did. The problem was she didn't expect a gun battle. She just thought you'd give Waldo to Madicof and she'd go free.
“The shooting freaked her out. When she saw Madicof stumble out of the room with his guts hanging out, she thought maybe you had planned it to go that way all along.
“I don't think you did. Instead, I think the desk clerk gave you the wrong room number. Maybe on purpose. Maybe he knew the people in sixteen had cash and drugs and were ready to start shooting if anyone tried to break in.
“We'll probably never know for sure. The clerk disappeared after the shooting and hasn’t shown up for work.”
I nodded. Raif was talking to me. He didn't sound upset that things had gone so wrong. I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought, so I kept quiet.
“I talked to a friend at the station. They have a video. It shows what happened, and it matches the statement you gave; that Erin was being held hostage and you and she were not involved in the shooting.
“They think it was a drug deal gone wrong. They're looking for the shooters who were in sixteen and Madicof's associates. They don't think they'll ever find them.
“Both parties were long gone before the police got there, and no one expects them to come back.”
He took a deep breath and said, “I was wrong about Erin. She doesn't hold you responsible. She doesn't want you to leave town either. She says you have some unfinished business with her. She wouldn't tell me what it was.”
He
reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “Erin's car is still parked near the taco truck. She needs someone to take her there to get it. I think maybe it should be you.”
I took the keys and said, “Thanks.”
Five minutes later, I pulled up in front of Raif's trailer. Erin was sitting outside reading a book. She was in the chair that Raif had been sitting in the first time I met him.
She looked up and when she saw it wasn't Raif getting out of the car, she frowned and went back to her book.
Chapter Sixty-Six
I walked over and said, “Raif told me you might need a ride to your car. He gave me his keys and said I should see if you wanted me to drive you there.”
She looked up from her book. “I'm reading. Go away.”
I stood there for a moment, trying to think of something to say, but I couldn't come up with anything. I thought about leaving until I remembered what was in the trunk of Raif's car.
I walked over, unlocked it, and pulled out one of the paintings. I took it over to Erin and asked, “What do you want me to do with these? There are ten of them in the car.”
She looked up, thought for a moment, then asked, “Why are the paintings in the trunk?”
I pointed over my shoulder and said, “I was going to trade them for you.”
She smiled. “So you think I'm only worth ten of them? What were you going to do with the rest?”
Then she laughed. It warmed my heart when she did.
She stood, put the book she was reading onto the chair and said, “Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back.” She went into the trailer and I waited to see if she was really coming back.
A few minutes later, she returned wearing different clothes and a funky hat. She climbed down the steps, walked over to me and said, “I'm still mad at you. But I know it wasn't your fault.”
She got into the car and had me go to the storage building and put the ten paintings back where we had stored the others.
Then, instead of having me take her to her car where it was parked at the taco truck, she asked, “Are you in the mood for pancakes?”
Epilogue
A month later, I was still living in the site I had rented at Shady Haven. I had paid for another month and wasn't sure when I would be leaving.
Erin had rented Waldo's trailer. The one between mine and Raif's. Before she moved in, she had it cleaned, replaced all the furniture and generally fluffed it up.
The police questioned me again, and I gave them the same answers I had given before. This time, though, they showed me a photo and asked if I recognized the woman in it. I did. It was the woman who had stolen my meds.
“Yeah, I recognize her. I think her name is Sierra. Is she in some kind of trouble?”
The detective who had shown me the photo shrugged. “We haven’t figured that out yet. She was in room fifteen at the Romar when the shooting started. She told us an interesting story.
“She said the guys in sixteen were using young women to steal drugs. The women would knock on doors asking to use the bathroom and take whatever they found in the medicine cabinet.
“They’d have the girls bring the drugs back to the guys in sixteen and they'd get paid in either cash or meth. She said she took the cash. She needed it to support her kid.
“The reason I’m asking about her is we found a bag of empty prescription bottles in her room. Two of them have your name on them. You want to tell me how she got those?”
I nodded. “Remember that sinkhole that stopped traffic on I-75 last month? I was stuck there in my motorhome when she came to my door holding a baby. She asked if I had anything the kid could drink.
“I invited her in. She asked to use the bathroom and of course, I let her. That’s when she stole the pills. I didn’t realize it until a few hours later.
“You can call CVS and they’ll tell you I reported the drugs stolen and canceled the prescriptions that day.”
The detective nodded. “That fits with what she told us.
“Unless you want to press charges, we’re not going to hold her. We’d rather help her get back on her feet. She’s applied for a room at the Paradise, and we hope she gets it.”
Even though she had stolen from me, I could understand why. She needed the money to support her child. I held no ill will toward her.
They also questioned Erin about being kidnapped, and her story matched mine. Since it looked like we were both victims caught up in the same thing, they said we were free to go.
They never identified or caught the guys from room sixteen. But they learned the names of Madicof's two associates and had warrants out for both. The general consensus was they were no longer in Florida. They were last seen boarding a thirty-four-foot go-fast boat in Key West. The boat never returned.
In their haste, they left the black SUV behind and when it was searched, a ledger book was found in the back seat.
It listed all the loans Madicof had made, along with payments and contact info of those who had borrowed money from him. After a district judge's name was found in the ledger, the book mysteriously disappeared. It was assumed that since all the loans violated Florida's usury law, they were not valid and would be wiped clean.
Waldo slept in the day after the shooting. He had taken another Xanax after getting Madicof’s call, and slept through everything. When he finally got up the next morning, he had to call triple A to come fix his car. It didn’t take them long to get it running.
After receiving the first's month rent payment from the county, he had the motel sign repainted so it would no longer be known as the Die Inn. The new sign simply said, “Paradise.”
Erin and I decided to split up the Highwaymen paintings. I gave her first choice and she took the ones she wanted. She hung three in her trailer and put the rest on consignment at Lost Art.
I took two of the smallest ones to hang in my RV. I donated the others to a local shelter for battered women. They planned to sell them at a charity auction and use the money to expand their services.
Boris Chesnokov called me from Key West and thanked me for helping his wife. He was especially appreciative that Madicof wouldn't be returning. For that, he said he owed me. He would repay me soon. He also warned me that the next time his wife asked me to do something for her, to clear it with him first.
I wasn't sure I would.
Bob pretty much continued to be Bob. He'd always meet me at the door expecting to be petted. He'd meow loudly when his food or water bowls were not to his satisfaction, and he'd sleep on Erin's lap when she visited.
We still had breakfast at McDonald's almost every morning. It was a good way to start the day, but I had to give up on pancakes for something a little lighter.
I wasn't sure where our relationship was going. She did amend the no touching and no spooning rules in bed. That made life a lot more interesting. But we really hadn't talked about our future together. She was still looking for a business to buy and I was wondering where my next adventure might take me.
I may have gotten an answer when she showed up late August and said, "I can't take the heat anymore. I'm tired of sweating as soon as I step outside. You need to take me someplace cool where I can get out and walk and not feel like I'm in a steam bath. Don't say the mall. That won't do."
I thought about it for a moment, then came up with what I thought was the perfect solution. "I know the place. It's always cool, so cool you might need to bring a sweater. It's half a day away. Go pack and we'll hit the road."
And that's what we did.
Author’s Notes
Most of the locations in this book are real, but none of the characters are, except for Bob.
If you plan to visit Florida, one of the places you won't want to miss is Saint Augustine. Its streets and museums are steeped in history, and you'll be able to get a taste of what life was like back in the sixteen hundreds.
Start by visiting the Castillo de San Marcos National Monument. It’s a large stone and mortar fort built to protect S
aint Augustine from pirates and other invaders. As you walk the grounds you'll see what life in the fort was like three hundred years earlier.
After the fort, you'll want to take a historic trolley tour. There are several available and all provide interesting and insightful details about the history of the buildings and people who lived in early Saint Augustine.
There are plenty of other things to do as well, including many fine restaurants, bed and breakfasts, nearby beaches, and camping at Anastasia State Park.
If you visit the area, look for a motorhome with a big orange tabby cat sitting on the dash. It might be Mango Bob.
Finally, if you like this book, please post a positive review on Amazon. Good reviews keep me motivated to create new volumes of the adventures of Mango Bob and Walker.
As always, thanks for your support.
Bill Myers
The adventure continues . . .
If you liked Mango Motel, please post a review at Amazon, and let your friends know about the Mango Bob series.
Other books in the Mango Bob series include:
Mango Bob
Mango Lucky
Mango Bay
Mango Glades
Mango Key
Mango Blues
Mango Digger
Mango Crush
You can find photos, maps, and more from the Mango Bob adventures at http://www.mangobob.com
Stay in touch with Mango Bob and Walker on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/MangoBob-197177127009774/
