Heinous Habits!

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “You’re not alone. Some locals even want to play up those old stories hoping tourists will find it intriguing. If you ask me, it’s all getting out of hand.” Then he laughed heartily. “With my luck, I’ll get spotted out in the woods around here one night, and someone will start a rumor that Big Foot's in the cove. I don’t run fast, so the legend won’t last long if someone chases me down.” The big man shook with laughter again.

  “Dude, you’re right. I could totally see that happening.” Brien lowered his voice and added, “Especially if you happen to run into one of the nervous types. They jump to the wrong conclusion fast, don’t they?”

  “Hahaha, that’s for sure, Brien. Don’t be surprised if someone spots you out there in the water and starts rumors about a Thor sighting. Hold that surfboard up over your head, and someone will swear it was Thor’s hammer.”

  “Thanks for showing up when you did.”

  “No problem, Gidget. You and Moondoggie have fun. Surf’s up!”

  “Cowabunga!” I replied as we took off out the back entrance of the hotel and headed down the terraced hillside to the beach. I’d forgotten all about that challenge I’d made earlier until Brien turned on the speed.

  “Last one on the beach is a kook, remember?”

  “Corsario Cove has its share of kooks, already,” I shouted in reply. “I’ll just get in line!” No way was I going to catch Brien with the lead he had in a matter of seconds. That’s even if I had been able to sprint to the beach after coming up with the silly idea of a race. I saw Brien hesitate for a moment.

  “I know, I know! I started it! Don’t worry about me; I don’t mind being a kook.”

  Kook's not such a bad label in surfer-speak, anyway. It’s close to Barney—a clueless nuisance on the beach. More innocuous than a looney running around town in a dirty monk habit shouting “the end is near.” Was he also the graffiti artist responsible for tagging local landmarks with those strange symbols including whatever Willow wanted to show us in Sanctuary Grove?

  He sure gets around for a madman, I thought, as I slowed down not trying to catch up to Brien. At this point, I needed to save my strength. I hadn’t started whatever trouble was going on around us, but I had a hunch we were in it to the finish.

  6 Mitchum’s Missive

  The distance from the hotel to the beach was farther than I remembered. By the time I hit the beach, my arms were already approaching that noodle-like stage I usually reached at the end of a workout. My legs weren’t doing that great either. I slid my board onto the sand and then plopped down beside it without even spreading out a towel first or setting up one of the chairs Brien had brought for us.

  The roar of the waves was loud here. A few guests splashed in the water nearby; the squeals of their children occasionally rose above the pounding of the waves. Brien and I had learned during our initial visit at the resort that the beach was rarely crowded unless there was a special event held there like a cookout. Hotel patrons preferred the pools and spa. Kids especially loved the water slides and faux caves at Pirate’s Cove Water Park on an upper terrace.

  That Corsario Cove is so uncrowded is one reason it’s a draw for Brien. He and his surfer pals worry that it's not likely to remain that way for long now that the resort and spa bring more visitors to the area. Most guests don't surf. The Pacific Ocean here on the Central Coast is colder than in SoCal or the Atlantic Ocean on the East Coast—even in the summer—so I have a hard time ever imagining crowds being a big problem here.

  I propped myself up on my elbows and caught Brien just as he took off to catch a wave. Moments later, he was on his feet in a single, graceful motion called a “pop up.” When I manage to get up on my feet, it's never perfect. Usually, my arms flail about as I try to stabilize myself while taking my stance on the board. Rarely did my ride last as long or did I finish with the surfboard as well controlled as Brien had just done. That’s why I always use a leash attached to my ankle.

  The grin on Brien’s face grew wider when he caught me looking at him. He motioned for me to join him. How could I resist? His joy pulled me toward him, even after I plunged into the chilly water with my board tethered to my ankle. The salty spray was invigorating as I paddled out to the line beside Brien. Or maybe it had been the bracing kiss from Brien that had sent a jolt of adrenaline pumping through me.

  Almost without struggling, I slipped out of the water and straddled my board once I reached the line. There were a few familiar faces. Snaggy was in the lineup although the snaggletooth that had earned him his nickname was gone. He'd had it fixed during his recovery from a beating he'd taken by members of a modern-day pirating gang. That’s pirating as in the transport and sale of counterfeit goods. Without Brien’s superhuman efforts, Snaggy might have lost more than his tooth that day. Snaggy’s pal, Tony O, was there too.

  Brien did a quick round of introductions to several new surfers he'd met a few minutes earlier. I’m not sure I could have remembered who was who even with all the colorful names like Cool Magoo, Da Rex, and Solo in the mix. Some things just stick for Brien.

  I wasn’t the only female in the lineup once Misty paddled in beside us. She was small like me although built. Monster workouts, no doubt. A wave of envy swept over me as she pulled herself out of the water and slid onto her board in one fluid motion. She probably could have ridden the waves while doing a frigging handstand on her surfboard with her upper body strength.

  Misty was friendly enough as she said hello, but showed little interest in me as she shook the cold, wet hand I offered her. I had a feeling that would soon change, but not in a positive way, once she witnessed my dweeby efforts on the board. I’d get plenty of attention when a big fat wave dragged me under, and I got my first sand facial of the day. I added intimidation to my feelings of envy as the ocean swells gently rolled by us.

  “Where did Bede go?” She asked.

  “He had some business to attend to back at his shack,” Brien replied. “You just missed him, Kim. I told him we’d drop by so you can meet him before we have to go take care of our business.” Brien leaned in and gave me a kiss. “Even if Willow doesn't show up if that’s okay with you, Gidget.”

  “Sure, Moondoggie. I’d love to meet him.” I could have sworn I caught an eye roll from Misty. Maybe the interaction was too mushy, or our nicknames were too much of a cliché. “I was hoping I’d get to see him surf, though. Willow says he’s outrageous on a surfboard.”

  “That’s true. Bede’s not back in top form yet. Still, he’s got a takeoff that’s beautiful to watch. When he’s ripping it’s off the wall, and he can still execute a perfect pullout.”

  Misty’s eyes were sparkling. Her face reflected a fervor that had to be as “off the wall” as Bede’s surfing ability. Was Misty's admiration purely professional or was it personal? That interaction had shifted the vibe I was getting from her.

  “So, you know Willow?” she asked.

  “Yes. Not for long. Both Willow and Brien are trying to make a surfer out of me. I still have a lot to learn, but it’s addicting, isn’t it?”

  “You can say that again.” Misty laughed. “I’m a surf junkie, that’s for sure. I can’t believe Willow’s able to stay off the boards all day long while she’s this close to the cove. I couldn’t do it. Fortunately, I’m able to make a living writing about surfing so I can feed my wallet and my addiction at the same time.”

  “Are you a sports writer?”

  “Sort of. The local shops carry a short book I wrote, Surfari Secrets, with a chapter on Corsario Cove. A photographer friend took some amazing pictures for it. Anyway, I write travel articles, too, for online and print publications, but my steady income comes from sponsors and affiliates on my blog. The only downside to my choice of careers is that I’m on the move all the time. A couple of weeks ago, I heard Bede was back, and here I am, trying to get the scoop on where he’s been and what's brought him to Sanctuary Grove.”

  “Have you figured that out yet?” She either didn’t want
to answer that question or got distracted by Brien.

  “Whoa! There goes your Moondoggie. He’s a natural, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Brien doesn’t get to surf as often as he’d like, but that might change if we decide to move here to Corsario Cove.”

  “You’re up next, Gidget.”

  “Yikes, you’re right.” I had been so distracted by our conversation and then by watching Brien that I’d lost track of the fact I had a decision to make. I needed to take off, soon, or make it clear I was going to sit it out for a while longer. Before I could decide what to do, Misty decided for me.

  “Come on. Let’s take this next wave together—you on the inside, okay? Break to your right if you get into trouble and watch me finish the ride. That'll help you learn more about the movement of the waves this morning.”

  Two minutes later, I was up on my board, steady as a rock. Well, rock might be an exaggeration, although I sure sank like one when I tried to deliver on the pullout. No sand facial, though. I even got a little woohoo from Misty. She gave me a couple of pointers as we headed back out to the lineup to await our next round. I got more than a woohoo from Brien who gave me a kiss guaranteed to keep my spirits above water even if my body didn’t stay there.

  An hour later, I was a jellyfish. That gave new meaning to what I had previously regarded as noodle arms. I decided to take a timeout, trying not to pass out on the beach once I dragged myself out of the water.

  We still had another half an hour before we had to hit the showers and “dress for success” as Brien had explained during an exchange with a fellow surfer. “Sorry to bring it up, Man. Harsh to have to go when there are still good waves to ride,” had been the reply from Brien’s new surf pal complete with a sad, hangdog shake of the head. There was no sign of Willow. Maybe Bede could fill us in on what was going on in Sanctuary Grove if she didn't show soon.

  Brien had been thoughtful enough to pack us a backpack that he’d left on the beach with a blanket and a couple of folding chairs. I set up one of those chairs, grabbed a bottle of water, and slumped into it. I could not take my eyes off Brien as he rode a pounding wave to shore. When he headed back out, I was still tracking him intently. At the sound of a man’s voice next to me, I jumped out of my skin.

  “Is this seat taken?” he asked as he picked up the second folding chair Brien had brought to the beach.

  “No. Help yourself.” The man had a surfboard with him and wore a vibrantly colored dashiki over his boardshorts. Dark glasses hid his eyes. Maybe pushing forty, he seemed at ease as he set up the chair and dropped into it. The voice had been pleasant, as was his smile, but it took me a minute to shake off the shock from his sudden appearance.

  “Sorry to scare you. I’m Bede. You must be Kim, right?”

  “Yes, I am. How’d you know that?” My mouth must have been hanging open, or that shocked look was back on my face, maybe. He laughed.

  “Brien said you were on your way to the beach. You’re the only new face out here since I left. Good guess, huh?” He smiled again.

  “Sure,” I said even though I wasn’t sure I believed him. How else could he have known? Still, I searched his face, wishing I could peer into his eyes to better judge the truthfulness of his statement. I’ve heard somewhere that the eyes are the window to the soul. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do believe people’s eyes sometimes give them away when they're being deceptive.

  “Want a juice box or water?”

  “No thanks. I just tanked up back at the shack.”

  “Mick’s place you mean. He said it’s yours now. Did he leave you his tiki statues now that you’re the Big Kahuna?” That set off another round of laughter.

  “Yes. Not that it’s Mick’s shack or mine, and I’m hardly a Kahuna, big or otherwise.”

  “Mick had a different take on it.”

  “I’m not surprised. Not everyone gets the idea of what it means to be part of a community without a king.” He flashed me a smile before continuing to speak. “Mick did an excellent job of providing continuity in Sanctuary Grove for a lot of years. You’d never know someone ransacked the village last December. I know I don’t have to tell you how much damage that incident caused. Mick led the cleanup without getting carried away and changing it too much. That’s good stewardship.”

  “Mick said the resort sent in their people to help repair the damage and even put in a few improvements.” Had Mick also mentioned that Brien and I were involved in the trouble related to that incident? I’m not sure why it mattered. It’s no secret that Brien and I were mixed up in that mess. Bede could have found out about us just as easily from reading media posts.

  “True. We have better water reclamation, an electrical hook up, and a septic tank. Not all the amenities you find at some campgrounds and recreation areas, but that’s what I meant by good stewardship. Mick preserved the character of the place so it’s still rustic and a little wild like the surf.”

  Bede shrugged and clasped his hands behind his head. Somehow, Bede exuded a great calm. There was something military in his bearing, too. Nothing I could put my finger on quickly. No buzz cut. His hair was longer than that but neat, even after his stint in the water as a member of the dawn patrol. No military school insignia ring. Maybe it was my imagination. He reminded me of someone—maybe Cliff Robertson who played the Kahuna in my favorite Gidget movie.

  “I hope the latest trouble doesn't undo all the work Mick and others put into restoring the village.”

  “Mick mentioned that?”

  “Yes. Our friend Willow’s even more concerned about what’s going on than Mick is.”

  “She has reason to be concerned. The incidents were more annoying and inconvenient than dangerous or threatening. What I found when I went back to the camp a while ago crossed the line. I’ve called for some help.”

  As he spoke, several things happened at once. Brien, who must have realized that Bede was back, picked up his board and sprinted the few yards to join us.

  “Hey, Bede!” he said as he joined us. Before Bede could utter a reply, a holler came from behind us. Brien looked up. Bede and I twisted in our seats.

  “I should have known it! If there’s trouble in Corsario Cove, Gidget and Moondoggie can’t be far from it.”

  The man who shouted those words walked toward us after stepping from a golf cart and onto the beach. Detective Bernie Mitchum was wearing an ill-fitting beige suit.

  Shades of Columbo, I thought. The same blah color as that trench coat Columbo wore everywhere, Mitchum’s suit had to be every bit as wrinkled. It was buttoned funny, too, and totally incongruous on the beach.

  Sand flew out ahead and behind him with each step that he took. He wasn’t exactly twitching, but he was already making weird motions. He tilted his head from side-to-side and raised it like a turtle sticking its neck out of its shell. Stretching, perhaps?

  “My message still hasn’t sunk in, has it? It’s what every kid watching those 1950s Saturday movie matinees figured out—run away from danger, not toward it!” He shook his head in exasperation. “I recognize these two, so that must make you Bede Greco. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Greco? Why did you summon me to the cove?”

  I said several things happened at once. As Mitchum asked that question, the action picked up again. Members of resort security slid a golf cart into place behind the one Mitchum had abandoned moments before. I recognized the man behind the wheel immediately. At 6’4” and 300 pounds, he’s easy to identify. That golf cart he drove looked like one of those midget cars used in circuses once Big Al had climbed out and stood next to it. Two other men exited that clown car and sauntered toward us with Big Al in the lead. Now those feet of his could move some sand!

  “Hey, Big Al,” Brien said. I was getting a crick in my neck from sitting all twisted up in that beach chair, so I stood up and added my own “hey” to the conversation.

  “We heard you found a body in Boardertown. Is that right?” Big Al asked. My head swung back toward Bed
e so fast I heard it snap. Mitchum spat out the question before I could ask it.

  “What?” Mitchum asked as he did his first little twitchy two-step of the day. He shifted from one foot to the other and then back again. The big bushy mustache hanging over his lip moved up and down several times, too. He placed a hand over it as if that's what it took to stop the thing from moving. “Where did you hear that?” he grumbled.

  “Anonymous call. I figured you must have gotten the call too and that’s why you’re here, Detective.”

  “No. I’m here because Mr. Greco called me. Surely, you would have had sense enough to tell me there was a dead body when you called. You said something about old bones.”

  “Bones, yes. Not a body, Al. Well, not a complete body anyway, but human bones. That’s why I called you, Detective.” Bede slid the glasses up on top of his head and looked directly at me.

  “That’s what I meant, Gidget, when I said the latest trouble in Sanctuary Grove had crossed a line.”

  He might have had more to say but a blood-curdling scream coming from Sanctuary Grove pierced the air. Without thinking Brien, Bede, and I did just what Mitchum’s missive had urged us not to do. We hurtled toward danger as fast as our legs could carry us.

  7 Remains of a Day

  I’m fast on my feet. A jolt of adrenalin produced by my body's reaction to that scream spurred me on despite my earlier fatigue. I kept up with Brien and Bede as we reached the path that led into Sanctuary Grove. We hadn’t gone far when we were almost run over by half a dozen shrieking residents. They ran as though the devil himself was on their heels. An instant later, we turned and joined them.

  “Bats! Oh no, bats!” I hollered as I headed back out of the woods onto the beach. Yes, bats. More bats than I had ever dreamed possible. Even more than had swarmed past us inside the caves that riddle the cliffs running along the rocky coast. In that situation, our pursuers had disturbed them.