by AJ Basinski
The Calusa lived primarily on shell seafood from the Gulf of Mexico. They then used the shells to build their houses. Huge mounds of the shells still exist on the settlement that have been preserved as a protected area. As we toured the settlement for several hours we could hear the shells cracking beneath our feet. One of the tour guides had told us that not only was it illegal to pick up the shells under the preservation guidelines, taking the shells away from the settlement would also bring bad luck. By then, I had already picked up a dozen or so of the shells and was carrying them in the pocket of my jeans. Since I didn’t believe in that sort of supernatural stuff, I wasn’t particularly worried and decided I would just keep the shells as souvenirs of our trip to Palm Island.
That same night, my disbelief in the supernatural and the occult definitely was tested. Around midnight, while I was trying to get to sleep in my room at the Inn, I thought I heard someone crying downstairs. Was this that Indian princess who had killed herself hundreds of years ago that Zeke Chandler had talked about? I had thought it was just one of those myths some restaurants and hotels use to attract new visitors who might find it interesting to stay in a haunted house. I doubted that it was anything more than a tall story but now I had to find out for sure myself. Just in case, after first making sure it was loaded, I slipped my Walther into the pocket of my pajamas.
I then quietly crept down the hall past Sun Li’s room and down the creaky steps. The cries seemed to get louder as I got downstairs. The lobby was almost pitch black. I walked around the lobby, almost stumbling over a chair at one point. I could still hear the crying and I was determined to find out where it was coming from. Finally, after five minutes or so of blind searching, I saw a window in the bar area next to the lobby that was open just a small crack. I then quickly realized that was where the “crying” was coming from. The wind was blowing through the crack, making what sounded like a cry. I shut the window and the “crying” stopped immediately. I suspected that the window was left open on purpose each night, just to create the illusion of a ghost haunting the Inn. I was sure it made for good publicity for the Inn.
“So much for ghosts and the supernatural,” I said to myself as I climbed the steps upstairs and went back to my room, where I fell asleep right away, secure in the knowledge no ghost was going to get me or Sun Li.
Chapter 7
I thought that Sun Li really seemed to be enjoying herself as much as I was. I could feel that she was definitely relaxing and warming up to me as the week wore on. And maybe, just maybe, I thought, there was a glimmer of hope for a relationship with her that would go beyond just friendship. I also was hoping that the adjoining door between our two rooms in the Inn might yet come in handy.
In my mind had put aside the fact that a dismembered body had been found in the water the day we had checked into the Inn. I guess when homicide is a day to day occurrence as it had been for me when I was with the LAPD, you become used to it. Also, it seemed like we were in some tight little cocoon in the Inn. I was sure that a lot was going on but I didn’t see it. I was intent on only one thing: Sun Li.
One morning I did happen to see an article in the Miami Herald which someone had left in the Inn’s lobby that said that the man whose body was found was someone named Mark Sullivan. But other than his name, the article offered few details about what had happened to him or how he had died. It did say he had been murdered and said that Chief of Police, Ed Shipley was investigating.
I was glad that I was not involved in that investigation. I was having too much fun. But everything changed on the fourth day of our visit to Palm Island. You know how it is: just when everything seems to be going along so well, the bottom just falls out? That was what happened on that fourth day.
Chapter 8
On Wednesday morning, the fourth day of our vacation on the island, I was in my room getting dressed before going down to meet Sun Li for breakfast in the Inn’s restaurant downstairs. As I was getting dressed, I could hear the shower running in Sun Li’s room next door and I smiled to myself. I was looking forward to another beautiful day in paradise with my beautiful friend. As I was putting on my usual Hawaiian shirt as a cover-up with my swimsuit, the black hotel phone on the nightstand beside the bed rang. I wondered who that could possibly be because almost no one knew that I was even on the Island or here at the Inn. The only person that I had told where I was going was Doc Phillips. I doubted he would be calling me. I had kept quiet about where I was going and who I was going with because I was worried that if I told anyone else that Sun Li was coming with me, they would think that I was just some hopeless romantic. Or maybe even worse yet, some crazy old, love-struck fool, which is what I probably was.
After several rings, I picked up the phone, hoping maybe that it was Sun Li calling.
“Hello,” I said. “This is Lieutenant Morales speaking.”
“Hello, Mario,” the voice at the other end of the line began as soon as I had answered the phone. “Mario, this is Ed Shipley. You remember me, don’t you?”
Of course, I recognized both the name and the gravelly voice I was hearing on the other end of the line. After all I had just seen him a few days before when we were checking in and, of course, we had worked together back in LA. I wondered why he was being so coy now. I hated it when people played games like that.
I had always thought that Shipley was a bit of a jerk. What had galled me particularly when we had worked together was that Shipley was all too anxious to take the credit when an investigation went well and all too willing to blame someone else when an investigation went south. That certainly was not my style.
Images came flooding back to me about Shipley and the homicides we had worked on together, including that dismemberment case we had talked about a few days ago. That case seemed to me to be uncannily similar to the case Shipley was now investigating.
“Oh sure, Ed,” I finally responded. “Of course I remember you. Hell, we just saw each other the other day. I was just a little startled to hear you calling me here at the Inn.”
“Mario, I’m calling because I need your help. You know, of course, I’m the chief here on the island. The reality is that I’m the only law out here, Oh, I got one part-time deputy, who the County pays for, but he ain’t worth shit. He’s the mayor’s son and I got to keep him on the force or I’m probably going to lose my job here the next time I run.” Shipley laughed.as he said this. I had no clue why he was telling me all this now.
Shipley continued, “You know it’s sort of like the old, Wild West out here. Yeah, the old West, that’s a good way to put it. Everybody’s got a gun or some other serious weapon. Some of the kind of stuff we would have loved to have back in the old days in LA ourselves. But instead of a horse, they have a pick-up truck.” Shipley laughed again.
What the hell was he getting at? He obviously had some agenda. I just wished he would get to the point. Instead he shifted gears again.
“Seriously,” he continued, “did you know that your cute little Chinese girlfriend, Sun Li, is on probation? I found out yesterday. She had to report to her probation officer before leaving Miami to tell him where she was going and who she was going with. He gave me a call to let me know she was here. The probation officer seemed like a nice guy. I told him you were here with Sun Li. He was a little surprised about that. I guess she didn’t tell him that she was coming with you. I told him that everything was kosher and that you and I had worked together as cops back in LA. He seemed satisfied with what I told him.”
Shipley sounded a little gleeful as he asked me about Sun Li’s probation. It was sort of like he was hoping I didn’t know Sun Li was on probation so he could rub it in. Of course I knew. I was one of the reasons she was on probation.
I had fallen hard for Sun Li since the first time I had seen her on the Mardi Gras over a year and a half ago. Then she had seemed so exotic, so different from any other woman I had ever met. But a lot had happened since that first meeting. A lot. And a lot more would happen on th
e island. But none of it had or would change my feelings for her. But that was not something I felt I needed to tell Shipley.
“Well, first of all, she’s not my girlfriend,” I said. “Sun Li and I are just friends. And, yes, of course, I did know she was on probation. It’s a long story, but yeah, I knew. She and I are just spending a few quiet days here on this beautiful island of yours. Just a little R and R, you might say. You see, my cruise ship is in dry dock and I needed a break from the routine. But I would be happy to get together with you some time while I’m here on the island, maybe for a drink and to shoot the breeze or something. I’m not sure exactly what you mean by saying that you need my ‘help’. But, Ed, you got to understand, this is my vacation.” I hoped I didn’t sound too defensive with that answer. But I didn’t want to let on to Shipley that he had begun to cross the line. Maybe I should have, because he apparently did not get the message.
“By the way,” Shipley went on, shifting gears once more. “What ever happened to your wife, Edna?”
I thought this was definitely below the belt. I was pretty sure that everyone on the LAPD knew that she and I had been divorced and the circumstances under which it had happened. And even if Shipley didn’t know, it was no damn business of his anyways. If he was looking for help, this was not the way to do it.
“Yeah, we got divorced several years ago. I thought you might have heard,” I said as calmly as I could.
“Oh yeah, now that you mention it, I did hear that. Sorry about that, brother.”
I should probably explain a little bit about what had happened with my ex-wife. I had been divorced for almost three years since my bout with what was eventually diagnosed as PTSD by the LAPD psychiatrist back in California. It seemed to me at the time that it had all come on suddenly like a summer cold in the middle of July. Yet, I knew at heart that it had been a long while in the making. The shrink told me it was brought on by a combination of my personality and a murder investigation that had gone terribly wrong. I eventually worked through it as best I could. I wouldn’t say I was cured, but I was definitely better.
I wondered how much Shipley knew about all this. I sure as hell wasn’t about to tell him any of it. But I also knew that wasn’t the purpose of his call.
“Well, look Mario, I agree with you that we got to catch up and have that drink and all that, but for now I really need your help. And I need it badly.” This sounded rather ominous to me. What in the hell kind of help did he need from me?
Shipley then continued, “You know, of course, since you were there, that I got a dead body that turned up in Palm Island Sound a few days ago with a bullet in his back and all cut up. The guy’s name was Mark Sullivan. Trouble is I ain’t got a clue who done it. From what I have been able to find out so far, the guy was sort of a son of a bitch. He thought he was some damn Don Juan or something. He liked to fool around with the ladies. And to top it all off, he liked to shoot his mouth off about his conquests when he would be out drinking. He was what we call down here, a ‘Cracker’ fisherman. He showed up on the island just a couple of months ago and now he turns up dead. Ain’t that something?”
I thought to myself, why is he telling me all this? Shipley finally got to the point. “When I saw you that day at the Inn on the island here, I just couldn’t believe my good luck,” Shipley said. Interesting. That was not at all how I recalled that first meeting in the lobby of the Inn. Back then he had seemed rather startled that I was there. But I decided to hear him out.
“Look, as I said,” he continued. “I’m basically all alone out here. Sure we got the county sheriff and all that, but they sure ain’t used to dealing with murders out here either. Mostly, they just stop drug runners along Interstate 75 or bust up fights at the local bars.”
I thought that Shipley was almost too enthusiastic in what he was saying, but I decided to let him continue with his pitch. I now definitely could see what was coming.
Shipley continued, “Hell, I’m getting a lot of pressure from the people here on the island to solve this murder and solve it fast. People are scared, Mario. They’re buying even more guns and locking up their houses. That never happened here before. You know how a murder in a quiet little place like this can have a ripple effect on people. People start worrying they might be next.
“Plus, you got to understand, unless this murder is solved pretty quickly, it could put a helluva crimp in the tourist business. As you have probably seen since I know you’ve been here a couple of days or so, the tourist business here is huge. Huge. Particularly this time of year when all the snowbirds fly down here for some warm weather and peace and quiet. This winter season is when a lot of small businesses here either make it or break it. And if the tourists don’t come cause they’re scared, well, it’s just plain old ‘Sayonara,’ if you know what I mean. Hell, they have even been calling Palm Island the ‘New Key West.’ Ain’t that something? But one bad season and these businesses are out of here. They will go somewhere else where they feel safe. And so will the damn tourists. Believe me, I’ve heard about it happening elsewhere here in Florida. And once it does happen, those people just never come back. They find someplace else they like better or at least think is safer.”
Before I could say anything in response, Shipley kept on talking: “I understand you’re here on some vacation or something, but I sure wish you could help me out on this one. For old time’s sake if nothing else, Buddy. You were the best damn homicide investigator I ever worked with. And I worked with a lot. I need your help on this one,” Shipley pleaded with me.
I actually felt sort of bad for the guy, even though I did still think he was a jerk. Shipley sure sounded anxious and upset. When he finally finished his little monologue, I thought about his request for a few seconds, but then answered him, “Look, I appreciate your kind comments about my work and all that and I would love to help you out. But it’s been over two years since I worked in homicide. I’m probably just as rusty as you are in investigating a homicide, maybe even more so. Since I left the LAPD I’ve been working security on a cruise ship, you know, investigating some poor bastard who gets robbed. Small stuff like that, Ed. Honestly, I don’t think I could be of much help in investigating a murder right now, even if I had the time, which, by the way, I don’t have.”
“Mario, I know all about your work on the cruise ship. I also know how you were able to solve the murder of a woman aboard the ship and at the same time uncover a nasty drug ring run by the Chinese. Your old friend Diego Van Gogh told me all about it at a law enforcement conference in Gainesville late last year. He also told me you also almost got yourself killed while doing the investigation.”
“Look, Ed, I would love to help you out with this investigation,” I lied. “But I need a break. And besides which, as you know, I’m not alone here. I just can’t go off and leave Sun Li by herself while I play at being some gumshoe detective again. That’s just not my style and not the right thing for her.”
I was sort of amazed I actually said that. My ex-wife had always said that I didn’t understand women and didn’t know what they wanted. I actually was beginning to think she may have been right about that. I had always put my work first. I knew now if my relationship with Sun Li was going to amount to anything, I had to put her first. I guess an old hound dog like me can learn some new tricks.
“I know all that, Mario, and I see your point. But you got to understand my position too. I didn’t even mention this before but I got these goddam reporters from Fort Myers and Cape Coral, even some guys from your stomping ground of Miami, camping outside my door at home. I got these television trucks parked right on my lawn, with those big antennas sticking up in the air. Every time I go outside my front door they yell at me and ask when I’m going to solve this damn murder. I’m sick and tired of saying, ‘no comment,’ but hell, what else can I say? Right now, I’m just pretty much stymied on this one, Mario. And here’s the worst part. My damn wife is just about ready to kill me. Those damn reporters are tramping all
over her begonias. Mario, you just got to help me. For old times’ sake. I’m pleading with you, man. We’ll find a way where you can help out but still spend some time with your gal. I promise you.”
Shipley sounded very convincing and I thought for a moment about telling Shipley that I would help him, but then I again thought of Sun Li, beautiful Sun Li, who was right next door in her room, just finishing her shower. And I also thought of how much fun we were having together and planning to have in the remaining few days of our little trip. I couldn’t let anything interfere with that. I just couldn’t do it. This was my last chance for love.
“Sorry, Ed. I just can’t do it right now. We’ve only got a couple of more days left here on the island and I just can’t do it.”
Shipley paused for a moment and then said, “Okay, okay. Believe it or not, I sort of understand, Mario. After all, I’m a man too. I could see that Sun Li is quite a looker. I’d probably do the same thing, if I was in your shoes. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Mario. But if you should change your mind, just give me a holler. I would love to work with you on this case. My number is 239-123-4567, if you do change your mind. Just call me anytime.”
“Okay, Ed,” I said. “I doubt things will change, but if they do, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
With that, I hung up the phone.
I surprisingly felt good that I had turned Shipley down on his request to get involved in this murder investigation. Sometimes I felt like I was too nice and took on more than I could really handle. I also wondered if Shipley knew about my battle with PTSD. Of course, that was yet another reason for me not to get involved in another murder investigation, I concluded. I just didn’t need that added pressure and stress of a murder investigation. After all, life was good for a change. And I still was hoping that it might even get better.
