Skull Wave (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 5)

by David F. Berens

  He filled Jack in on the events of the night before last, partying with the girls, blacking out, waking up on his boat, finding their heads in the lobster traps, and all the blood…so much dang blood.

  “Well?” Jack asked as he tossed the orange over the rail of the deck.

  Troy waited for the man to ask a more detailed question, but he didn’t. He just stared at Troy as he sipped his beer.

  Finally, Troy shrugged his shoulders. “Well, what?”

  Jack looked around to make sure no one was paying them any attention. Then he leaned closer to Troy.

  “Didja do it? Kill them girls?”

  “Hell no!” Troy said punching the man on the shoulder. “You kiddin’ me, man?”

  “My bad, bro. My bad. I just know I seen a lot of good men do bad things when they come back from the war.”

  “You can put that right out of your head. Cops even gave me an alibi.”

  “That’s good, man.”

  Jack took another sip of his beer. He traced the label with his thumb thoughtfully.

  “So, didja see ‘em?”

  “Huh? Did I see what?”

  He clapped his hand on Troy’s cheek. “The boobies. Did you see the boobies?”

  “The…did I see the… Jack, that ain’t right. The girls are dead.”

  “Well, you partied with ‘em, dint ya?”

  “Yeah. I suppose so.”

  “So, didja see ‘em? Motorboat ‘em? Touchy touchy?”

  “No, Jack. I didn’t do any of that.”

  Troy didn’t say that he couldn’t remember for sure if he had or hadn’t seen the boobies. But that wasn’t the point.

  “Kind of a waste, I s’pose.” Jack tipped his bottle up and emptied it.

  Troy saw this and decided to change the subject. “You need another?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  “Let’s head back in.”

  Troy turned to walk into the bar. Jamaica Jack grabbed Troy’s shirt and pulled him back. He pulled out a canvas, camouflage wallet and flipped through a few dog-eared business cards. It took a while as he looked over his glasses and stretched his hand out trying to read each one. Finally, he found the one he was searching for.

  “Yup, here we go,” he said and nodded, holding the card out to Troy.

  Troy took the card and read the front.

  MEIRA CARR

  PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

  It had a phone number and nothing else.

  “Tell her I sent ya. She’ll get to the bottom of this thing.”

  “Thanks, Jack. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”

  “And Troy…”

  “Yeah, Jack?”

  “Be sure to let me know if ya get to see her boobies. Damn, I been wantin’ to see ‘em forever now.”

  Troy shook his head and pointed to the door.

  “How ‘bout that beer?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The two of them limped back into the bar to the tune of Take It Easy.

  Troy was surprised to see that a stooped gray-headed man now occupied his stool at the bar. He thought for a second about calling Rusty out about letting a straggler hop on a stool that was still an open tab. But there were other open seats, so he decided to let it go. Jamaica Jack obviously didn’t feel the same. He walked up to the old-timer now leaning over some sort of dark liquor drink and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey friend, normally I don’t make a scene ‘bout such things, but my friend Troy and I are kinda partial to them two seats.”

  “Jack, it’s not a big deal.” Troy pointed to two open spots down at the other end of the long bar. “Let’s just grab those.”

  He tapped the man again, but the guy didn’t seem to notice. That’s when Troy heard his voice carrying on and on telling some story about some being toe to toe with a few pirates down in Somalia. Poor Rusty was caught listening to the man.

  “At one time,” the man stuck a finger in the air as he slurred, “I had the biggesh damn captain’sh lishence down in the Keysh. So, they all uzhed to call me when they had a load that nobody elshh could handle.”

  Troy realized he knew the voice. More than that, he knew the story the man was telling. He’d heard it at least a hundred times.

  “There we were headin’ down the Yankshee River...”

  Troy had heard the story with various locations filled in for what he could only guess was the Yangtze River in this version. He smiled as he listened to the man carry on with his tale.

  “All I had on me wassshh a crappy little pen knife that was nearly rushhted through. There was ten o’ them and they all had AK-47’shh. We spent a long day shhtarin’ down the barrel o’ them damn things out in the hot sshun on the poopdeck. You know what happened, Red?”

  Troy guessed the man was calling the bartender Red. Rusty shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t, old-timer,” he said swiping the bar in front of him with a rag. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “I had ‘em all—.”

  Troy interrupted him filling in the rest of the punch line of the man’s story. “—cowtowin’ to me on the deck by three-thirty that afternoon. All with only a rusty pen knife and a backbone of steel.”

  The man turned to look at him. He squinted hard and for a second, Troy thought he might not recognize him. Too much whiskey makes the memory go the way of the Dodo.

  “Troy?” the man’s eyes widened as he said it. “Ishh that you? What in tarnation are you doin’ here?”

  “Hello, Mel,” Troy clasped his hand on Mel’s shoulder. It was bony and thin…too thin. The man was clearly skipping meals. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing? What happened to being the biggest boat captain in Key West?”

  Mel pursed his lips in disgust and flapped his hand as if brushing off the comment.

  “That place ishh small cheeshh,” he said.

  “You mean small change?”

  “You said it.”

  “The last time I saw you down there,” Troy said, “you were hangin’ out at Pepe’s braggin’ about a big boat you just got commissioned on. What happened?”

  Mel licked his cracked lips. For a second the light seemed to turn on in his eyes and Troy was afraid he might’ve hit a nerve. And then the familiar squinty smile was back.

  “Wouldncha know it, I got bushhted by the man for indeshent exposhhure.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Ya, I know. In Key Wesht of all plashes. It ain’t the same as it ushhed to be, Troy.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and pointed to a bottle of Jack Daniels behind the bar.

  “Who do I gotta bang to get a shot o’ that whishkey around here?”

  Rusty acted like he was going to turn the old guy down, but Troy nodded to him and made a motion to put it on his tab. He poured the drink for Mel and walked down to the other end of the bar. The night crowd was starting to roll in and Troy realized he’d been there longer than he’d planned, but this was too good to pass up.

  “Pissin’ off Duval Street, just behind The Bull,” Mel blurted.

  “Huh? Troy and Jack asked in unison.

  “Yeah, that’s what they got me for. Indeshent exposhhure, my ass. Cop claims I wasn’t actually outshide at the time of the pissin’, but I know myself and I wouldn’t do that shit. Anyhow, I got fired from the job when they found out about the bogusshh charge. And I figured if you can’t pee on the street in Key West, I don’t wanna live there anymore. So, I headed up north, got me a job on a little tourist fishin’ boat out here. It was pretty good, until I accidently peed on that one lady.”

  He nodded his head and held up his empty shot glass. “Hey, can’t a guy get any shhervice around here?”

  “Mel, you might want to ease up. Seems like you’ve had enough.”

  Troy waved Rusty off as the bartender started to grab the whiskey bottle.

  “Where are you stayin’ tonight? Why don’t you let me and Jack get you back
to your place before it gets too late?”

  “Stayin’? I’m guessin’ they probly got a nice drunk tank in thisshhh shithole. I figured I’ll stay there for a day or so till my new job heads out in a coupla days.”

  “That’s no way to plan a night out, Mel,” Troy said wondering what sort of job he’d be able to do in this state.

  Jack stepped up and added, “Bro, we can do better’n that. They got a hostel. I know we can get you into a bed that ain’t made of stainless steel.”

  Troy arched his back and it cracked up and down his spine as he remembered where he’d been last night.

  “Now, that sounds pretty damn good. Get me one more for the road. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where you goin’?” Troy asked watching the man walk toward the kitchen.

  “Gotta take a leak.”

  Troy jumped up and grabbed him before he could make it past the swinging doors. He steered him toward the bathroom and made sure he walked in without any detours. When Troy got back to the bar, Jack had ordered a couple more beers and a shot. He was saying goodbye to someone on his cell.

  “No worries.” Jack smiled as he hung up his phone. “I got an Uber on the way to take him down to the hostel. He’ll be good to go there. Plenty of drunks crash over for the night out there.”

  Troy slid the beer toward Jack and tipped his Outback tea stained straw cowboy hat.

  “Why don’t you keep that one, I think I’m gonna hit the road too. Gotta get up early and chop up some fish.”

  “Solid plan.” Jack winked at him as he said it. “Look me up later this week, we’ll get out to my favorite fishin’ hole.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And dude, be sure to call Meira.”

  “I will. I will.” Troy held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute.

  “And if you two get together, don’t forget—.”

  “I know.” Troy shook his head as he opened the door. “Be sure to get a look at the boobies.”

  “Right on, brother.”

  5

  Baby, You Can Drive My Carr

  Meira Carr was jogging north along Virginia Dare Trail shortly after midday when her Apple Watch alerted her that someone was calling. She chose not to take the call because she was close to making her best time for the thirteen-mile run from Jennette’s Pier to the Avalon Fishing Pier. There and back made it an almost perfectly flat marathon. Several times she had come close to getting the whole twenty-six miles and change done in under five hours, but hadn’t done it yet. The conditions today turned out to be absolutely perfect with just a light wind blowing behind her on the home stretch. She checked her pace on her watch again and was excited to see she was ahead of schedule. Pushing harder, she passed the four hour and fifty-five minute mark only to have her left calf seize up in a painful cramp.

  “No, dammit, no!”

  She hobbled to the edge of the sidewalk and knelt in the sandy grass. She rubbed her knotted leg furiously. If she could get it to let go, she could still beat the time. But when she tried to stand back up, the right calf jerked her back down. She wasn’t sure why this was happening. She’d had plenty of fluids for a couple of days and had lain off all alcohol and caffeine, but her body was defying her.

  From where she sat on the path, she could see her finish line marker, Jennette’s Pier, ahead. Looked like maybe fifty yards or so. Her watch pinged as the timer clicked to the five-hour point and raced past it. She wasn’t going to beat her goal today. The longer she sat there, the worse her cramps got until she realized beating her time wasn’t going to be the only problem. Getting back home was looking like a long shot. She punched her watch to call her daughter, but someone was calling in at exactly the same moment and she accidently connected the call with them.

  “Shit, hello?” she said wincing from another jolt of pain in her legs.

  “Yes, ma’am. My name is Troy Bodean and I got your number from a friend.”

  “Okay, look, Troy,” she said as she realized it was a business call. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

  She hung up before the man was able to leave a message. She quickly dialed home and waited as it rang and rang. When the voicemail picked up, she hung up and dialed again. She did this four times before she realized Riley wasn’t going to answer. On her last try she decided to leave a message.

  “Riley, this is your mother. When I get home, you are grounded for life.”

  She hung up and took a deep breath. She tried desperately to stand, but it was a no-go. Her legs refused to cooperate. Cab, she thought, I’ll call a cab. Scrolling through her contact list, she found a number and dialed. The man that answered had a thick accent and she could barely understand him, but the gist of the conversation was that his only cab was out on a long run to the airport. He would send it right away when the fare was over.

  Meira felt the pain in her legs start creeping up into her thighs. It was getting worse. She opened the Uber application and found that there were exactly zero drivers near her.

  “Dammit,” she muttered as she stretched her legs out to try to ease the cramping.

  There were a few cars passing by, but none seemed to see her waving frantically. The nice breeze that had been helping her run had stalled leaving her to roast in the afternoon heat. Her watch rang again. She tapped it.

  “Riley, I swear, I’m going to kill you when—.”

  “Ma’am, I’m not sure who Riley is, but I think forgiveness is the better part of valor.”

  “What?” Meira blurted out as she realized she wasn’t talking to her daughter.

  “Well, ma’am, this is Troy Bodean calling again. I was just thinking I’d leave you a message. Didn’t expect you to pick up and yell at…whoever Riley is.”

  “She’s my daughter. Look, I’m sorry, Troy. I think you must be calling about business, but I’m just going to have to call you back. I’m sitting in the hot sun, my legs are cramping so hard I can’t walk, my daughter won’t answer the phone, and apparently there’s not a damn cab to be had in Nags Head.”

  “Dang. That sounds like a tough spot alright.” The man on the other end of the conversation went silent for a second. “Where ‘bouts are you in Nags Head?”

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable answering that question right now, Mr.—.”

  “Call me Troy, please.”

  “Okay, Troy.” There was something in his voice she couldn’t pin down, something safe, something trustworthy. She figured she was probably making a huge mistake but at this point she didn’t have many options. “Where are you right now?”

  “Can’t say exactly, but I reckon I’m fifty yards or so off Jennette’s Pier.”

  She arched an eyebrow and looked around suspiciously. “If that was the case, I think you’d be staring me in the face.”

  “Oh, I’m not inland, ma’am. I’m on a boat.”

  “I see.”

  She shifted around so she could see the ocean, but there was no sign of a boat in her line of sight.

  Before she could say anything else, Troy said, “you just hang tight. I’ll be there in a jiffy. We’ll get you back on your feet before you know it.”

  The call disconnected and Meira took a deep breath. She hoped her instincts were right about this Troy character being a decent person. In her line of work, she made enemies on an almost daily basis. Either a cheating spouse or a runaway who didn’t want to be found, they almost all had something to hide. Private investigators rarely had cases for clients who were happy with their situation. She tried Riley one more time and predictably, got no answer.

  “Grounded,” she mumbled through dry lips. “For life.”

  Riley Carr sat motionless on the floor at the foot of her bed. Her eyes were covered with an Oculus Rift virtual reality headset. It had been expensive, but it was well worth it. She could escape the world of the mean girls from her school and become the princess she always dreamed of becoming. Over her ears, she complimented her amazing visual experience with a cheap set o
f Bose earphones she’d gotten from Craigslist. She planned to update these eventually, but the headset had drained her allowance for the time being.

  Inside the headset, she was transported to another world. A world where the boys at school who laughed at her because of the lies the mean girls told them meant absolutely nothing. A world where she was somebody important. A world where she could be beautiful.

  Her mother said she was beautiful in the real world, but Riley knew that was just the crap mothers were supposed to say. She enjoyed the character she had created for herself because she was not only gorgeous with long shimmering blond hair, but she was an elf skilled with a knife. Her fighting skills in the game had gone through the roof when she had found the mystical artifact and it had bonded with her. Riley enjoyed the fame that had come with owning the artifact and learning to wield its magical knife. She had given herself the quest of finding weaker players inside the game and defending them, killing any who would bully them…be they real, or computer-generated.

  It was pretty exciting, but the real thrill had come when she’d heard of the Orc who was terrorizing Bladehammer. He was high-level…highest she had ever seen. But in her experience, the higher they were, the farther they fell. And today, she was hunting him. At one point, she thought she might’ve heard the phone ring, but it couldn’t have been anyone important, her mom was out running and she was always gone forever. That and the fact that she’d discovered where the Orc was today and she’d tracked him into the small village of Haw Ridge.

  The details were gruesome, but in the end, she was left holding the Orc’s head, having bested him at hand-to-hand combat. Her magical blade was impossible to beat. Naturally, he re-spawned on the spot, but the rules of the game were that he couldn’t attack her for twenty-four hours. It was different this time, though. He came back as his avatar, or his computer representation of what he supposedly looked like in real life. He was cute and looked to be about her age.

  He said he came back to congratulate her on her victory and invited her to the local tavern in the game to have an ale or two. Riley could feel the excitement of having a cute boy pay attention to her and, for all practical purposes, ask her on a date. Even inside a virtual world, she was thrilled. As they sat and drank the virtual ale, she decided she like him…a lot.