“I’m not so sure I’m the right gal for this,” she said, “I have a daughter and I can’t leave her alone overnight.”
“Where is she now?”
“With family, being watched.”
“I’ll give your family a hundred dollars to watch her overnight. Will that suffice?”
“My, I suppose it will. Let me just call them and tell them – ”
“Don’t tell them where you’re going!” Hawthorn warned.
“No, no of course not. I’ just goin’ to tell them I’ll be away overnight.”
“Fine. I’ll be downstairs. Meet me in five minutes. Pack lightly.”
Hawthorn’s yacht was decidedly small enough for him to motor himself without a crew. He enjoyed being the captain, but now found his hobby more convenient then he ever could have thought necessary. He navigated the small yacht from Key West up to Hawthorn Island and slipped it into the boathouse.
“There’s a loft upstairs,” he said to Rose as he helped her out of the boat. “Very nicely kept with a bed and a hotplate, and running water. Make yourself at home. There’s a radio you’re welcome to use if you keep the volume low. Try not to make any noise that might attract attention. If you’re hungry, there are some cans in the pantry and fresh bread and fruit. I’ll be back for you around ten.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do while you’re gone, sugar?”
“Yes. Get naked by ten.” Without a goodbye he turned and left Rose in the boathouse and made his way up to the mansion.
“Vivian! I’m home,” he called to the large house. Vivian Hawthorn rose from her armoire with a magazine and said, “Well dear, it’s about time. It’s almost eight.”
“My business with Roberts took longer than expected. But we should have everything we need for the Labor Day party next week.”
“Good. Oh, Gregor was here earlier, he said to tell you hello.”
“Was he. Any reason in particular?”
“No, he just had the boat out and wanted to say hello.”
“How is my boat,” Eliot asked somewhat sarcastically.
“Oh, Eliot, don’t be that way. You agreed to lend him the money, it’s not his fault the depression hit him a little harder than us. If you’re going to be generous you can’t take it back.”
“No, I suppose not,” Eliot replied, holding his temper. “What’s for supper?”
“Cajun Gumbo, I believe. Dora has been cooking all day.”
“Fine. I’m starved.”
When supper was over, Eliot and Vivian retired to the sitting room for coffee. Vivian went back to her magazine, Eliot took up the morning newspaper. At five minutes to ten Eliot said, “I’m going out for a walk. Too stuffy in here.”
“All right Eliot. I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight,” he said emotionlessly and headed for the boathouse.
1956
My head screamed. I grabbed the back of the chair for support as the blood rushed to my brain and almost knocked me out. My heart pounded hard in my chest and for a minute I though I’d lose my cool, but I got it under control and turned around just in time to see the back of a blonde head move through the door with a guy in a blue pin-striped suit. I followed, not sure what I was going to do. In my mind the phrase, “It’s not her, it’s another Ginger,” echoed over and over. I kept following them through the lobby and when they turned to walk up the steps I stopped and took out a Camel. They climbed the landing, then the first few steps and were facing me now as I lit the wrong end of the cigarette.
Jessica.
It was her.
My heart sank so low it hit my stomach and I got that feeling like I was going to vomit everything I ever ate in my life, but I somehow kept it down. She didn’t see me; her attention was focused on the mook she was leading up the stairs, up to his own little bought-and-paid-for paradise. She looked amazing, I might add…done up like a Hollywood starlet, not a small town hooker.
A hooker!
How could I have missed it? How could I have ignored all the signs, all the little clicks that had been nagging me for days? Sure, she was a hooker. Melinda practically told me so. So did Bachman. So did a hundred little hints Jessica herself left, but I was too damned blind to see them. Too blind or too….
Her heels clicked up the steps past my head, and I decided to follow. I don’t know why, I didn’t have a plan. I guess I was hoping she’d drop the guy off and come back downstairs to sell cigarettes or something. Gaddammit! How could I not realize what everyone was trying to tell me! Roberts even called her a whore, and he meant it! It all started to make sense now. She stayed with a ‘friend’ when she was sixteen. Sure, I’ll bet you dimes to donuts that friend was Roberts, or one of his lackeys. Took her in, gave her a place to stay, and in return talked her into turning tricks. It’s not so bad, they’d told her, just a few minutes work for so much money. Sure, she’d probably hated it at first, but after a while she wouldn’t care, it was just a job. Then it got so she couldn’t live without the money, and so she kept on going. But why now? And why lie to me about it? Doesn’t she know I wouldn’t care about all that? Everyone gets a bad break. Who am I to judge?
But the lying. That, I just couldn’t dig.
They reached the top of the steps and turned right. I hid my face with my Panama and just caught them stopping at room three. She said something and they both laughed. A great time they were having. She opened the door and they went in. When I got to the top of the stairs, they shut the door.
I stood in front of room three smoking a Camel down to the butt. A million thoughts swam through my head, thoughts of how I met her, how I got here. For a minute I thought it was even possible that Bachman had set her up to meet me on Monday night, so I’d have a good time on my stay. Then I realized even Bachman wasn’t so stupid as to hire a call girl for a vice cop. No, everything Jessica had told me had been the truth, with two exceptions: She was still working at the Low Key Club, and she was a Gaddamned prostitute.
I wanted to go into the room. I didn’t dare go into the room. Other couples came up the stairs, others went down. The place was pretty busy. I didn’t notice. I finished the butt and twisted it out on the rug. Then I knocked, three times.
Clattering and muffled voices came from within. Then Jessica’s voice.
“Who is it?”
I changed my voice. On a crazy hunch I said, “Rutger Bachman.” The door opened and Jessica was already speaking.
“Oh, hello Mr. Bachman, is something –” She stopped dead in her tracks as she looked up at me. Her see-through black negligee must not have left anything to the imagination, but I didn’t notice. The expression on her face was one I’d never seen on a woman before; surprise, fear, betrayal, embarrassment and sadness all rolled up into one.
“Hello Ginger,” I said with a tint of melancholy.
“Oh,” she said, the rest of the words stuck in her throat. “Oh, it’s…you.”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
The guy was sitting on the bed, taking off his shoes. “Is there a problem, Ginger?” he asked pretty nicely. She turned to him and said, “I’m sorry, Johnny, you’ll have to go. This is…my parole officer. I’m afraid I’m in a little trouble at the moment.”
“Aw hell,” the guy said. “Look buddy, I don’t want any trouble. We were just talking, see?”
“No trouble as long as you get out of here on the count of ten. One, Five, Seven…”
“I’m out!” he said and pushed past Jessica out the door.
“Come in Bill,” she said quietly. I did. She shut the door.
The room was what I’d expect in a whorehouse. Red drapes hung from every wall, plush red carpet, soft double bed with purple bed-sheets and throw. A single chair next to a small table with liquor and a setup. An electric fan blew cool air in from a vent. The lighting was low, as was a radio in the corner playing classical music.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked calmly.
She swallowe
d hard, gave a half smile and said shakily, “Why didn’t you tell me you were a cop?”
“Because I was on vacation.”
“Same here,” she said. “Remember, I went to Tiki Island to get my mind off of work.”
“What about later, what about all this week?”
She gave out a fake laugh and threw herself into the chair. “Oh, sure. I find out you’re a vice cop, and you want me to tell you I’m a call girl? Right.” She held back tears as best as she could, but they defied her. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just enjoy our time together. You had to play detective and screw everything up.” The tears flowed more freely.
“Jessica, I came here tonight looking for you, but not here. I went to La Concha. I asked around and nobody ever heard of you. I only came here because I was curious about the show. I never expected in a million years you’d be here!”
“How did you get in?” she asked through sobs.
“I dropped Bachman’s name.”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t. I guessed. I put two and two together and came up with Bachman arranging hookers for VIPs at Tiki Island.”
“Please don’t use that word.”
“Sorry, call girls. When you work at Tiki Island as a hostess, that pretty much means you work as a call girl, doesn’t it.”
“Yes,” she said, and the sobs began again.
“Jessica, listen to me. I don’t care.” I knelt down beside her grabbed her by the arms. “I don’t care what you do. Your business is your business. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
“Yes it does. How could it not? You spend your life locking up people like me.”
“Not like you. In your line of work, yeah, but not like you. You’re different.”
“How do you know? You hardly know me.”
“Gimme a chance. I’ve only been in your life for a few days, after all.”
“I know, I know you have. That’s why it’s so unfair. In a few days you get to go home and leave all this. I can’t. I tried to get out but I just can’t. I can’t get a job anywhere in the keys because Roberts put out the word that anyone hires me, they get big trouble. Now he’s out of the picture and it’s only a matter of time before someone else fills his shoes. I’m trapped. You get to go home to your job and your life and your Manhattan apartment. I get to stay here and do…this!”
The tears came full force now, and I was worried a bouncer might hear and bust in on us. I didn’t want any extra trouble at this point.
“Calm down kid, here,” I said and handed her a drink from the table. She took it and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp. “I can help. I can get Jackson to undo the damage Roberts did. You can get a regular job somewhere and leave all this behind.”
“Jackson? The Sheriff? What would he care. He has his own problems.”
“He owes me one. I can probably even get you a job at Tiki Island if you want it.” She laughed hard at that one.
“Are you that naive, Billy? Don’t you know that Roberts worked for Eliot Hawthorn? Hawthorn has his hands in everything Roberts did, including this place. Who do you think backed Roberts when he needed cash?”
“Hawthorn.”
“Of course. And who do you think does his dirty work, now that he’s too old and frail?”
It made sense. “Bachman.”
“Right. Rutger, your buddy’s brother. Hawthorn didn’t need him to run the Island. He needed him to run the stuff he doesn’t want his daughter getting into!”
I flipped that over a minute. It fit. Melinda could run Tiki Island with her eyes closed. Then, without thinking any further, I let it out. “You could come back to New York with me. I know plenty of places you could get a job, get a fresh start. No one would have to know about your past. You could leave all this behind you, finished and done with.”
Her big blue eyes, rimmed in red, looked up at me with such sadness I almost bawled myself. “Don’t you understand, I can’t leave Key West,” she whispered, and as she did a knock came at the door.
“Ginger, you OK in there?” came the voice of the bouncer.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Johnny Miller said someone threw him out. What gives? Open up!”
“Everything’s fine, Chuck, I’ll be done in a minute and Johnny can come back up.”
I said, “Johnny’s not coming anywhere. You’re coming with me. I’m getting you out of here before something really bad happens.”
“No Bill, I can’t go with you,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. She turned to a little mirror on the wall and fixed her makeup. “It wouldn’t be fair to you, or me. This is who I am, Billy. It’s already too late.” She was calm now, and cold as if talking to a brush salesman. “You better go now. Show Chuck your badge and he’ll back off. Please go.”
I was speechless. I stood up but didn’t go.
“Ginger!” came along with more knocking from Chuck.
“Jessica, I…”
“It’s Ginger, sugar. It’s always been Ginger. Go now. It was a fun week but it’s over.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slow. She just stood there, waiting, cold. I took out my badge and gun, and opened the door.
“Back off sonny, if you know what’s good for you.” The goon backed up with his hands up low. “I guess she’s all yours,” I said, and pitching a last glance at Jessica, I left.
1935
Eliot Hawthorn laid next to his mistress Rose on the soft bed in the loft of the boathouse, smoking a cigar and watching the water reflect moonlight through the window. Rose lie breathless, sweating and in need of something cold.
“I’m taking a beer from the icebox, sugar. Ya’ll want one too?”
“Sure,” he said, and puffed away.
“That sure was…uh…mighty intense, sugar. You ain’t never been like that before.”
“I guess it’s the thrill of knowing my wife is less than a hundred yards away. I get great satisfaction knowing while I’m balling you, she’s sitting in our bed reading a magazine just up the path.”
“You must loathe that woman, sugar. Why on Earth would you feel that way?”
“I have my reasons,” he said. “Listen, we absolutely must do this again sometime. Maybe next weekend?”
“But next weekend’s Labor Day weekend. Ain’t you got a big party or something going on?”
“Oh, that’s right. Ok then, the weekend next. But I’ll still come see you on the Big Key in between time, OK?”
“Sure sugar, anytime you want!” she said handing him the beer. Then she laid on top of him, laughing, and the beer got hot real fast.
1956
I never felt so low. Even when my father was killed by a junkie, even when my mother was killed by a drunk, I never felt as low as I did just then. I made my way out of the house and down to the parking lot, and slid behind the wheel of the Chevy. I really liked that car, and thought about maybe buying one when I got home. Sure, I’d only drive it now and then, and the garage fees would be through the roof, but I really did like it. Thinking about it got my mind off Jessica.
I started her up. The big V8 came to life under me and roared. The whole car twisted with torque when I gunned the gas, something you never get to feel when you ride in cabs everywhere. I shifted the selector into drive and motored out of the spot, heading down town.
As the night flew by I thought about the last thing she said. “Don’t you understand, I can’t leave Key West.” I didn’t really know what she meant by that. I thought maybe she meant her roots were here, and she didn’t want to leave. Then I thought maybe it had something to do with that crazy house she brought me to this afternoon. Then, I thought maybe she owed some people money. That was probably it.
I swung the car down Duval Street and ended up at Sloppy Joe’s. There was no place to park so I had to circle the block twice before I found something. I parked it and walked into the old watering hole.
I took a small t
able near the back, far from the other people and the stage. A piano, bass and drums were banging out some old-time boogie-woogie and the crowd was eating it up. I ordered a double Bourbon on the rocks. It was too hot to drink it straight.
Two hours and six double Bourbons later I didn’t remember who Ginger was or Jessica was, and didn’t care. It was after two, and the place was closing up so I ordered one last double and drank it straight down. When I got up, I almost didn’t make it. The room spun a little and I realized too late I was drunk as hell. I didn’t care. I threw a ten-spot on the table for the waiter, picked up my panama and headed out into the street.
It was quieter now, but still lively. A different crowd was out at this hour, weirdoes, bikers, sailors. A brawl broke out at the joint across the way and spilled out into the street. It was over as fast as it started when one of the mugs went down flat with a lucky left hook. Someone got him to his feet and the guy who slugged him offered to buy him a drink. Laughs, a pat on the back, best friends.
I walked down to the waterfront where the big ships were parked. A cruise ship loomed up in front of me so tall that I almost got vertigo. Two kids smooched on a bench to my left. On the right, cars parked by the dock hid lovers maximizing the space in their backseats. I thought of Jessica. I thought of Melinda. For some odd reason I thought of Fast Freddie, and wondered if she ever saw a show like the one I saw tonight, and what she’d think of it. I turned around and walked back up Duval.
I walked around for I don’t know how long. I passed President Truman’s place...a hell of a house, a real beauty. I walked down a side street and passed the Audubon House, another museum I planned to hit before leaving this vacation. I found the Aquarium I’d heard so much about, and promised myself I’d see that too before heading north again.
Then I found myself in front of Jessica’s place. What a poor sap I was. Here I was fooling myself into thinking we had a connection, when she was just making nice for the Tiki Island ‘VIP’. Oh sure, maybe Bachman didn’t give her the order, but it occurred to me she’d have hell to pay if she didn’t make any VIP happy.
Murder on Tiki Island: A Noir Paranormal Mystery In The Florida Keys (Detective Bill Riggins Mysteries) Page 24
