Porpoisefully Yours

by Tymber Dalton

  He smiled. In all his watching, he knew the man, who looked to be in his sixties, was alone in his trailer.

  Erik found a sturdy cotton mop in the utility closet just off the kitchen. Once the neighbor was completely out of sight, Erik went out the back door. With his makeshift crutch, he quickly hobbled over to the neighbor’s house and found his back door unlocked. No dog, no people.

  Moving quickly, he searched and found a wad of bills and loose change in the top drawer of the man’s bureau. Over two hundred dollars. Erik thought about taking all of it, then realized that might immediately draw the neighbor to call the cops.

  He left a few bills of mixed denominations, and all of the change. Hopefully the man would think he’d simply made a mistake about how much money was there, and it still gave Erik $135. Moving fast, he left the trailer and hobbled back to his borrowed hideaway.

  Then he called the thrift shop. The woman who answered sounded young. “Seaside Savings.”

  He had to clear his throat and realized it’d been months since he’d actually talked to another person. “Hi. Listen, I’m here on vacation with some buddies. I…I’m a disabled vet, and well, we had a little trouble.” He made up a story of his wheelchair somehow accidentally falling out of the trailered boat during their trip south and needing a temporary replacement. “I don’t suppose you’d have any used ones there, cheap, would you? I have an old one at home I can use when I get back, but I don’t want to make my wife drive all the way down here with it, and I don’t want my buddies to have to cut the trip short.”

  “Oh, my gosh! You poor guy. Yeah, we have a used one, but I’ll give it to you, free.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to do that. Least I can do.”

  “You’re so sweet. I don’t suppose there’s any way I could get it delivered, could I? I’m here on Big Pine Key. I made my buddies go out on the boat today without me. I’ll pay for the delivery.”

  “Oh, no you won’t. Give me your address. I’ll bring it right over.”

  He had to fight the urge to giggle. “That won’t be any trouble, will it?”

  “My brother’s here to watch the place. Tell me where you’re at.”

  He gave her the address. “I really appreciate it. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

  “Absolutely not.” She sniffled. “Our uncle died in Afghanistan three years ago. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

  When he hung up, he let the giggles break through. That it had been so easy worried him. He wondered if she’d recognize the address when she got here. If she’d know he wasn’t supposed to be there.

  He briefly considered killing her and stealing her car, but realized that would not only be stupid, but all he had for a weapon was a knife. And anyone on two legs at this point could easily outmaneuver him.

  She actually arrived in six minutes, and she turned out to be barely out of high school, from the looks of her. She drove an old pickup truck, and the wheelchair sat in the bed. When she brought it up to the front door, he opened it for her.

  “Thank you so much,” he said.

  “The tires are solid, too,” she said. “It’s not much, just one of those folding hospital kinds, but I hope it helps.”

  He sat in it and let her lean in for a hug. “Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was at the right place at first. I didn’t see a truck.”

  “They left it and the trailer at the boat ramp when they put in this morning,” he quickly lied. “They’re going to drop one of the guys off there this afternoon when they return to bring it back.”

  She brightened. “Oh. Yeah, should have thought about that.”

  “You sure I can’t pay you?”

  She waved it off. “Nope. Thank you for your service to our country.”

  He fought the urge to grin as she turned and left. When he closed and locked the door behind her, he leaned back in the wheelchair and looked around the trailer. He couldn’t stay here long, not with the neighbor right next door.

  But now, he needed to make more calls and see if he could track down Jake Castle of Miami.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erik heard the neighbor’s boat return after lunch. The guy carried a small cooler from the dock up to the house.

  Then the waiting began.

  When an hour passed and still there’d been no signs of a deputy being called, Erik relaxed a little.

  But only a little.

  He’d found a backpack in one of the closets and loaded it with cans of soup and food, a spoon and a fork, a can opener, and some clothes. It hung off the back of the wheelchair, which sat parked by the front door.

  He also took a nice filet knife he’d found, as well as a hunting knife.

  They might come in handy.

  After directory assistance first gave him two wrong Jake Castles, the right Jake Castle had been more than eager to talk with him in person when Erik dropped a few subtle hints about things that hadn’t been mentioned in the tabloid articles. Like how he actually knew where some of the “wolfmen” Castle had talked about in his article lived. And, even better, he could point out other species to him, if he wanted.

  All he had to do was drive down from Miami and meet him on Big Pine Key. Erik had already picked out a restaurant from the phone book, called to confirm they were still there and their hours, and knew he could make his way there in the wheelchair.

  Their scheduled meeting was for four, which would give Castle enough time to get down there, even with weekend traffic, as long as there wasn’t an accident on A1A.

  It would also give Erik enough time to figure out how the hell he’d get out of the trailer without risking being spotted by the neighbor.

  Fortunately, that issue was answered for him around two thirty, when the sound of a car starting caught Erik’s ear. He made it to the front window in time to see the neighbor driving off.

  Perfect.

  Moving fast, he got the wheelchair out of trailer and down the two front steps, pulling the door shut behind him and checking the lock. He left the back door unlocked.

  Muscling the wheelchair over the uneven grass proved a little tricky, but fortunately he got it onto the pavement of the road and found a rhythm that worked for him. There wasn’t, unfortunately, a sidewalk along this part of the road, and he had to push for a few minutes before he found one.

  As he drew closer to the restaurant, he slowed, taking his time. He’d be early, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already would as a one-legged scruffy-looking man in a wheelchair.

  One of the little shopping centers just before A1A had a beach shop in it. After muscling the chair up the ramp to the raised sidewalk in front of the stores, he took a moment to catch his breath.

  That wasn’t the easiest thing to do, pushing a wheelchair.

  Not even a fraction as easy as swimming with only half a fluke, which was damned hard.

  Inside the shop, they sold cheap tourist wares. He bought himself a pair of sunglasses, a hat, a couple of T-shirts, and some shorts for less than forty dollars. They were also nice enough to let him change clothes there when he gave them the sob story about being on vacation with his buddies and his bag flying out of the trailered boat, along with his wheelchair, somewhere on the highway.

  Suckers.

  At least he had one way to use this situation to his advantage. He could prey on the kindness of others to get what he needed.

  * * * *

  A man Erik presumed was Jake Castle stood as Erik rolled up to the restaurant’s front door twenty minutes before their agreed upon time. He was probably only around five nine, if that, and thin except for a potbelly. Shaggy brown hair shot with grey and looking more in need of a haircut than Erik himself at that moment, he guessed the man’s age to be in his early- to mid-forties.

  “Jim?”

  Erik nodded at the fake name he’d given the man and extended his han
d. “Jake?”

  “Yeah.”

  He noticed the man carried a messenger bag slung across his shoulder. “That the laptop?”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand why you wanted this.”

  “I’ll show you later.” He smiled at Castle. “This is a story so big, you’re going to need a while to wrap your head around it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you call bullshit a few times, either.”

  “You have proof?”

  “I’ll give you all the proof you want. First, I want some food and a beer. And you’re buying.”

  Erik felt Castle’s nervous agitation grow as he leisurely perused the menu. He glanced across the table at the guy. Then he leaned in and lowered his voice. “Listen, Castle. You’re never going to get the Lyall wolves to admit anything to you, so calm down. You need someone like me to give you insider information. Believe me, I have plenty.”

  Castle’s eyebrows shot skyward. It took him a moment to speak, and only after wetting his lips in an annoyingly subservient way. “How’d you know who they were?”

  “Because I know. Because I have information you want. That’s why I called you. So settle the fuck down and let me enjoy the first goddamned real meal I’ve had in a few months. All right?”

  Castle nodded and sat back.

  Good. The guy probably spent most of his time behind a desk, based on his pale complexion. That meant if Erik wanted to take him out at some point, he likely could.

  Oh, he wasn’t stupid enough to admit who he was to Castle. Any basic Google search would pull up his name and picture in relation to Sean’s accident.

  Along with the fact that he was wanted for attempted murder.

  And he hadn’t given Castle his real name.

  But he would start spinning a tale, enough that Castle would keep him around for a while and do what Erik wanted him to do.

  Get him where he needed to go.

  And that was worth pure gold.

  * * * *

  On Castle’s dime, Erik had him stop first at a drugstore on Big Pine Key and buy him a pair of crutches.

  “How did you lose your foot, anyway?”

  “I lost it.” Erik looked at him. “Even put an ad on Craigslist to see if anyone found it.”

  Castle frowned but didn’t pursue it.

  The second stop was at a discount store to buy him some real clothes and other toiletries. And shoes, even though he could only wear one.

  But he felt a little more normal.

  Their next stop was a hotel. By now, it was close to eight o’clock. Once they were ensconced in the room, Erik took a long, hot shower. He did a better job trimming his hair and beard, looking almost respectable again.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, he used the crutches to hobble over to his bed, where he flopped down on it. He pointed at Castle’s laptop case, which he’d left sitting on the small table. “Let me see that.”

  Castle handed the computer over. It didn’t take Erik long to find the information he needed. He turned the computer so Castle could see the screen.

  On it, an article about a “drug-related crime scene” on Manasota Key.

  “Esparza wasn’t just a Mexican crime lord,” Erik told Castle. “He was also Alpha of his pod.”

  Castle frowned. “Pod? Like dolphins?”

  Erik smiled. “Exactly like dolphins. The incidental calls from people reporting armed, naked men being spotted on the key at the same time isn’t a fucking coincidence, asshole. They were all shifters. You want to fuck around chasing flea bags, that’s your call. I can give you bigger and better. I can give you a story that will make anything you think about the Lyalls look like small potatoes in comparison.”

  “There aren’t any dolphin shifters.”

  “Really? That’s where you draw the line? Bigfoot and wolfmen, sure. But dolphin shifters aren’t real?”

  Castle’s frown turned more toward doubt than scorn. “I mean, I’ve heard of Selkies—”

  “I’m not talking myths. You want to chase myths and rumors, go for it.” He slammed the laptop lid shut and shoved the machine back toward him. “But if you want me to make you fucking famous, make you the talk of all your fellow cryptozoologists, hand-deliver you proof of what I’m saying, then you’d better fucking give me a little credit.”

  Castle was weak, and Erik knew it. He just needed the pussy to cave and listen to him.

  Castle held the laptop cradled against his chest. “You still haven’t given me any proof.”

  “You want proof? I’ll fucking give you proof.” He pulled himself up onto his one foot, shoved his shorts down and off, and, naked, flopped back onto the bed.

  He shifted, just long enough to register the shock on Castle’s face. When he was back in human form, he retrieved his shorts and pulled them on. “Happy?”

  Castle numbly nodded.

  “Good. Now get me the fucking room service menu. I’m hungry and I want another beer.”

  * * * *

  The next day, Castle drove “Jim” to Miami. Erik saw he lived in a run-down house in Hialeah, in a neighborhood where more homes than not had bars on the windows.

  Oh, boy.

  “How do you expect to pay cash for tips living in a dump like this?” Erik asked as Castle showed him the guest bedroom.

  In actuality, it was little more than a storage space with a futon, but it beat being stuck in the trailer in Big Pine Key.

  For now.

  “I only pay if tips pan out.”

  “What’s in there?” Erik pushed open another door. Inside, it looked like something out of a movie starring a crazed, obsessed serial killer. The walls were papered with different news articles, maps, pictures, and notes both typed and handwritten. In one corner sat a desk covered with computer equipment. Boxes and plastic storage containers filled another corner. It looked like more papers.

  “That’s my office.”

  Erik turned and let out a whistle as he looked at all the information. “You’re so fucking close, buddy.” He turned his gaze to Castle. “Do what I tell you to, and I’ll make you fucking famous.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because the people I considered family turned on me and abandoned me. So fuck ’em.” He was careful to keep the depths of his revenge out of the equation.

  “Is it about your foot?”

  Erik realized Castle’s train of thought had jumped to the wrong track. He chose to exploit that. “Yeah. I don’t fit the image any longer, you might say.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “They exiled you over that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Well, we gather information. I know a few things.” He tapped his forehead with one finger. “Others I don’t know, and we’ll have to research a little.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sean was working at his desk late that morning when his administrative assistant notified him he had a call.

  Irritated at the interruption, he grabbed the phone. “Sean Morita.”

  “Mr. Morita, my name is Jake Castle. I’m working on a story about up and coming young professionals and their partners in the Sarasota area, and wondered if I could interview you?”

  Sean closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. Trying to refocus on the conversation, and not on the DOT road specs he was studying, he asked, “Who were you with again?”

  “I’m a freelance journalist.”

  Something buzzed at his conscious, but he wasn’t sure what. “I’m sorry, I’m not in Sarasota. My business is based in Charlotte County, although we do some work up there.”

  Was he mistaken, or did the man’s voice take on a tinge of frustration. “That’s fine, it’s more the Suncoast area. When could we meet to talk?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude, but right now isn’t a good time for me. Thanks.” He hung up and stared at the phone for a moment. He hoped he hadn’t just screwed up a chance for some free p
ublicity.

  Then again, the last thing they needed right now was publicity.

  He picked up the phone again and called Emery.

  “Hey, what’s up, babe?”

  Sean dispensed with the pleasantries and told him about the call.

  When Emery didn’t reply at first, Sean asked, “You there?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “You’re not saying anything. Did I screw up by blowing him off?”

  “No,” he slowly said, “I don’t think you did.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. But trust your gut instincts.”

  “Let me guess, you’re going to start looking him up, aren’t you?”

  “Google-Fu is one of my specialties. I’ll call you back.”

  It was nearly an hour later when Emery called Sean back. This time, his mate’s tone sounded like all business, serious, and downright wary. “If he calls back, do not take it. Don’t talk to him, don’t tell him anything.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He is a freelance tabloid writer, but worse, he runs a website.” Sean heard him shuffle papers around. “Called Strange and Real.”

  “Do I even want to know?”

  “One of those cryptozoological sites.”

  Sean blinked. “Wait a minute. Like Bigfoot and crap?”

  “There is no such thing as Bigfoot.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because…I just do, all right?”

  Sean sat back in his chair. “Bigfoot is a shifter, isn’t it?”

  Emery didn’t reply.

  “Answer me.”

  “We are getting off topic, Sean.”

  “Dude, just tell me.”

  “Yes, they’re shifters, okay? Happy?”

  “Holy crap, that explains why no one’s ever found a body.”

  “Back to this conversation,” Emery said. “Don’t talk to him. I don’t know what he’s up to. Dad’s calling around to other pod Alphas for me, ones I don’t know yet, talking to them to see if they’ve had any contact with this guy. I made some calls myself. No one else has heard from him.”