Gnarly New Year (Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #2)

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “I think the bats are gone. All the good vibrations from my jig couldn’t have been worse than the shock wave from those barrels. If there were more of them, they’d be jammin’ by now, right?”

  True. The sound of those barrels crashing had reverberated, that’s for sure, echoing in the cavernous space around us. I was trying to think of a witty or sarcastic reply to Mick’s question when I heard a noise. It came from above us and it didn’t sound one bit like the fluttering of bat wings. More like the crunching of shoes on grit. Maybe our activities down here hadn’t sent the bats fleeing.

  “Nix the lights, guys. I hate to say it but we might have company. Not bats, either.” As I whispered, I shut off my lantern. Brien and Mick did the same. We were immersed in darkness. Crunch, crunch, crunch, above our heads. I would have preferred the scurrying sound of more four-legged rats to what sounded like the two-legged variety.

  Who else, besides us, would be roaming about in the network of caves? Guys ready to play whack-a-mole if we stick our heads up out of this hole, I thought. I gulped and squatted down, pulled my phone out, typed a text message to Mitchum and pressed send. Dang it! No bars. No service. The message was ready to go once we got out of here. How fast could we cover the distance to that doorway and those stairs? Under cover of darkness we might be able to flee, unseen. I was about to whisper that idea to Brien, but froze, instead.

  “Where did you say that crashing sound came from? I don’t see light either, Gary.” I did. A ray of light shot through that crevice the bats had used as an exit, and bounced around for a moment before it disappeared back into the chamber above. Gary’s reply was muffled.

  “Oh yuck, not all this stuff underfoot is crunchy. What is this?” More muffled words, and a couple more steps. “Bat guano, as in bat…? What the…?” Expletives and a yowl followed.

  Crunch, crunch, crunch at a fast pace now as Gary or someone else rushed to help Bat Guano Guy. A light bounced around, shining for a moment on a foot that dangled, then moved a little. It had slipped through the crevice in the corner above our escape route. Then darkness, as whoever came to help Bat Guano Guy must have set the light aside to help. A little of the rock and earth gave way. More of his leg could be seen when a light probed the area again.

  “Grab my arm and pull. I’ll push.” As Bat Guano Guy moved again, he yelped. “Ugh, where did that come from?” More shifting above us. Rocks and debris dribbled through that crevice making it a little wider. The light bouncing around now revealed a skull lying on the floor.

  “Get that thing off of me,” Bat Guano Guy’s voice went up in pitch. His partner, Gary I presume, laughed.

  “He can’t hurt you. He’s already dead.”

  Bat Guano Guy was not amused, as evidenced by the epithets uttered in reply. He was beginning to sound more than a little freaked out. As he squawked again, an arm bone with a hand attached to it dropped to the floor along with more of the roof as that crevice widened even more. A second leg slipped through. If that crevice grew any wider, Bat Guano Guy would be in here with us. With about a fifteen-foot drop to the floor, he might not be in good shape depending on how he landed. Worse if he brought Gary, the rest of that skeleton, and a huge chunk of the ceiling down on top of him. I did not relish the idea of being in here when any of that happened.

  Okay, definitely time to go, but where? To get out the way we had come in meant heading toward those legs. With that area of the roof about ready to drop, that was no longer a great idea. Getting smashed like a bug didn’t sound any more appealing than playing the mole in a game of whack-a-mole or sleeping with the fishes.

  On the other hand, being entombed in this cavern didn’t sound great either if the roof caved in and sealed that entrance. An image of Mitchum’s big bushy mustache loomed. I hoped that wasn’t the last thing I’d see before I died. It twitched—that mustache, I mean. I jumped, as Brien tapped me on my shoulder. He had pulled Mick next to him where we all huddled together on our knees.

  Brien held the three of us in a tiny beam of light that he moved, pointing down the corridor the rats and the bats had used earlier. He put the light under his chin. It lit up his face like a scene from a horror film. Putting a finger to his lips, he switched off that light, placed a hand on each of our shoulders, and moved us in the direction of that corridor.

  More cursing came from that corner above us. “Disgusting,” a voice said that must have belonged to Gary since it was even higher-pitched than Bat Guano Guy’s terror-stricken voice.

  “Just get me back up on my feet before this whole thing gives way or I’ll show you what’s disgusting.”

  Shouts and falling rock sent us scurrying faster even than the rats. It was dark in that corridor. Who knew where it led? We scrambled as quick as we could in the dark. Every so often we heard shouting from back in that cavern. It sounded as if someone had fallen hard onto the ground—not hard enough to kill him since he let loose another round of cursing.

  “Bat Guano Guy,” I whispered under my breath, recognizing the voice even at this distance. We kept moving. I realized that I was huffing and puffing. The corridor was rising at an incline. Up, was good—toward ground level and to what I hoped would be another way out.

  Suddenly, I hit something solid—softly solid and pleasantly familiar. Brian had come to an abrupt stop in front of me and I bumped into him. We had been hustling along that corridor single-file, so stooge-style, I bumped into Brien and Mick bumped into me. That got an ‘umph’ from me and a ‘shush’ from Brien. Mick bounced off me and hit the ground. He was having trouble getting up, so I gave him a hand.

  Meanwhile, Brien snapped on that penlight again. We all stared as the light revealed a wall of stone in front of us. Hand hewn stone, like you might use to build a garden wall or a building. If there was a doorway, I couldn’t see it. Brien ran his hands along the stones, perhaps searching for the edge of a passageway or door hidden from view.

  I could hear noise from that cavern behind us. We couldn’t go back. Now what? The impact from Mick had knocked the phone from my hand. I bent down and retrieved it, pressed the button that lit up the face of the phone. Lo and behold, the NO SERVICE sign had been replaced by a single bar. I pressed send and heard the whoosh as my text message, prepared earlier, hurtled through cyberspace toward Mitchum.

  Found Krugerrands. Cavern in old cave system above Corsario Cove. Bad guys, too. Send help! GPS on!

  My heart sank as that puny little bar disappeared and the NO SERVICE returned. So much for the hope that Mitchum could pick up my GPS signal—presuming he received that message and regarded that as a reason to search for us in the first place. Even if the message got through, would he notice it and do something about it? I felt myself sinking into despair.

  Without warning, Brien was on the move again. He had backtracked, searching either side of the corridor we had just passed through before it dead-ended in that stone wall. Off to our left and a few yards back, he had discovered a second corridor. In the dark, we had missed it.

  Opposite that corridor Brien’s light flashed on what must once have been another branch. Most of it was blocked now by a wall of stone. Too regular to have been the result of a cave-in, it appeared as though it had been deliberately sealed off. Why seal it off? I wondered. As I stood there, I watched a rat run up the rough-hewn blocks of stone and through an opening at the top of that blocked passageway. Okay, so good idea we weren’t headed that way.

  Brien disappeared down the second corridor, Mick after him, hobbling a little now. Behind us, as I left that old corridor, I glimpsed a beam of light bouncing along the floor still a considerable distance behind us. A sudden inspiration gripped me. I pulled a Krugerrand from my pocket and dropped it on the ground at my feet. I placed a second one closer to that blocked passageway and tucked my hair ribbon into a chink in the stones as high up as I could reach. If we were really lucky, the guys behind us would take the wrong passageway. There was enough room at the top to climb through. Maybe they’d go
for it. If not, it might at least slow them down as they stopped to check it out. That would give us a little more time to find a way out of here.

  I picked up the pace, catching up with Mick. He was not doing well. I glanced anxiously behind us as I grabbed Mick’s arm and urged him forward. A surge of hope fueled my effort as a speck of light shone in front of us! Brien picked up speed, heading toward it. Not much more than a pinprick at this point. As Brien sprinted on ahead of us, I used the button on my cell phone to illuminate the area around me. This corridor was wider than the previous one. Off to my left, I spotted a wooden door.

  “Brien, Brien…” I whispered, as I yanked the door open revealing what could only be described as a tiny cell, no bigger than the walk-in closet in our hotel suite. Brien, who had been some distance away, was at my side, breathing heavily after what must have been another sprint to reach me that quickly. With that penlight he searched the room. The room was empty except for a crucifix hanging on one wall. No doorway leading outside, either. “A monk’s cell?” I asked Brien in a whisper.

  “Could be. Let’s keep moving. No light, okay?” He brushed my forehead with a kiss. I had caught the look of worry on his handsome face, illuminated briefly by the light from my cell phone. No bars. No service.

  “Sure,” I whispered, as he bolted again. Why make it easier for the guys following us to spot this corridor by lighting it for them? Especially, if I wanted them to consider the possibility, even for a few moments, that we had taken that partially blocked passageway instead. I shoved my cell phone into a pocket.

  As we did another hundred-yard dash down that corridor, the light in front of us grew brighter. I could now tell it came through an opening of some kind. As we grew closer the opening produced enough light to reveal that the corridor was lined with doors on either side. More monk cells? I pressed on, not stopping to find out the answer to that question.

  My heart pounded from the exertion, now mixed with fear. Where were we? Had the incline in that previous corridor led us high enough to reach that monastery built at the highest point above the cove? The long corridor we were in now was on level ground. The floor beneath us was made of stone—not packed earth like it had been in the previous corridor. Fresh air was pouring in along with the light, but I could tell by the footprints we left in the dust behind us that no one had been in here for some time.

  When we finally reached the end of the corridor, we found a door! An enormous wooden one, it resembled those on the monk cells, but wider and taller. Brien gave the door a yank, pulling on the large iron handle. The door did not budge. A second tug did no better. I grabbed hold of the handle too and Mick joined me. Together, we all gave it a pull.

  The door still didn’t move but the handle came loose and a big iron bar fell. Brien with his amazing reflexes caught it before it could hit the floor! Wow! I stood on my tiptoes and placed a little kiss on his lips. Brien pulled me to him and gave me a kiss I wouldn’t soon forget. If I remained alive to remember it, that is.

  Brien held that metal bar from the door in his hand. His eyes rose to the source of that light. It came from clerestory windows. Boarded up now, part of the weathered boards had given way, letting in that light. Brien scrambled to find a way up to those windows. They must have been no more than ten or twelve feet above us, but the walls were smooth. No crumbling façade like there had been on that makeshift wall blocking the other corridor we had passed. Maybe we should have chosen that route after all. There was no going back now. With no rope or ladder, we were stuck.

  I began making my way back down the corridor, opening doors as I went. As I opened each door, I hoped for a miracle. What I found were more empty, or nearly empty, cells. When I had opened and shut half a dozen doors, I noticed that I had left one ajar. Not a lot, but enough that it stood out from the others—like we had found the door to our hotel suite earlier today.

  Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed Brien, standing in an arc of light cast by that window. He was testing out that hunk of metal, swinging it like Thor’s hammer. The muscles in his arms and chest bulged. Mick gawked.

  Inspiration struck me once again as I heard noise from the corridor we had left behind. I pulled Mick and Brien into the cell across from the one with the door ajar. Once inside, I closed the door behind us. Then I explained what I had in mind. Waiting was the worst part. Minutes passed. I leaned my head against the wall near the doorway in that tiny cell where we huddled.

  It seemed like days, rather than hours, had elapsed since we started that descent into the cave complex. The fleeting view of my phone when it functioned for a few seconds, told me I was wrong. It hadn’t been much more than an hour ago that we first dashed up that long corridor leading away from the chamber of heinousness. I was beginning to think Gary and Bat Guano Guy had taken the bait and gone down that other passageway.

  Just as I was about to suggest we have another go at trying to get that door open, I heard sounds. In a few more minutes Gary and Bat Guano guy reached us. From the barrage of curses as they yanked on that enormous door, I could tell they were not in a good mood. More of that door handle clambered to the floor.

  “Do you think they got out and locked us in here?” one of them asked in a voice I recognized as Gary’s. That was followed almost instantaneously by “Ow, why’d you do that?” Then an audible “shush,” from Bat Guano Guy who we now knew, thanks to Mick, was “Larry.”

  “I’d know that voice anywhere,” he had whispered angrily as we stood in that tiny cell.

  Stooges is right, I thought. Armed stooges, no doubt. Once Gary shut up, they figured out the game quick enough. What’s behind door number 1? I heard a cell door open and shut. Then, a second door. I hoped they weren’t going to open and shut each door, one by one. I had set things up to happen a certain way. Quick steps down the hallway toward us, told me they had spotted that door left slightly ajar.

  I heard them do exactly as I had planned. They opened the door to the cell across from us. As they did that I pushed the door open to the room we were in. We burst from the room, with Brien wielding that iron bar we had yanked from the door. He landed a blow to the guy standing just outside that door, knocking the gun out of his hand. Still staggered, I shoved the off-balance lowlife toward Brien. Brien hit him again, and sent him hurtling into the room, where he slammed into his curly-haired confederate just as he raised his gun to fire. Brien jumped out of the way as both men fell to the floor.

  I slammed the door shut. Shots rang out from inside that room, but the thick hardwood door stopped the bullets. I picked up the gun that had fallen on the floor, and joined Brien and Mick holding that door shut as the angry bull of a man inside hurled himself at that door—not once, but twice. That had to hurt. Another bullet sent splinters of wood flying. Brien and I held fast, although Mick jumped out of the way of those splinters. He quickly took his place again—a little off to the side of the splintered wood, though. I motioned for Brien and Mick to step aside as I hollered at the man inside.

  “Give it a rest, Larry. You’re going to run out of bullets before you shoot your way out of there and we’ve got the other gun.” Two more bullets flew. More splinters. How many more bullets could he have in that gun? Enough to make their way through that wood?

  The three of us turned as we heard a clamor. Not from the stooges in that cell, but from the front door. A grinding sound reached us as that door slowly began to open. I tensed and aimed my gun at that door as it opened and people burst through.

  “Police! Don’t anybody move. Put down your weapon.” I did as I was told, and placed the gun I held on the ground. I heard a clanking sound from inside that cell, too. Brien and I stepped away from the door.

  “Stooges,” I said, pointing at that cell as I squinted in the bright light that bathed Mitchum in a halo. Standing to either side of him were two uniformed officers and behind them several burly looking men in monk’s robes. I heard angels singing.

  11 gnarly new year

  Those
hadn’t been angels singing. As one of our robed liberators explained, most of the ninety or so monks who live at that monastery were chanting what he called “none”—ninth-hour prayers—in a chapel not too far from us. When we stumbled out into the afternoon sunshine, we soon found ourselves on a path that led through a garden more beautiful than the ones down below at the resort. The scent of the forest surrounding us blended with that from the herbs and other plants in large, well-tended vegetable beds. An orchard stood opposite. Flowers bloomed around us too, and lined the path we took back to the monastery.

  We entered the monastery complex through an opening to one corridor of buildings organized into a large quadrangle. In the center was another garden. A large labyrinth occupied much of this one. With the scented air, birds chirping, sunshine, and the sound of that chant growing louder, the setting was enchanting.

  I glanced back over my shoulder a time or two as we left the remains of what must have been an earlier monastery built on the grounds up here. That scene was less than idyllic. The stooges, cuffed and bleeding, were being hustled off by Mitchum’s officers. My hubby’s makeshift Thor’s hammer had done its job. They were lucky, in fact, not to be in worse shape than they were having been on the receiving end of Brien’s mighty blows.

  One of the massive monks who had come to our rescue was working to secure those wooden doors we had exited. From what I could see, that enclosed corridor of cells was in the best condition of a much larger set of remains, now partially reclaimed by woods. There had been a fire. Most of the other structures that I could see were badly charred. Heaps of rubble poked their way through tangled vines, weeds, and brush. The police tape added to the incongruity of the scene. Old villainy and new, perhaps, bound together by that brightly-colored tape.