Penelope slid forward, pressing her breasts against my face. Normally I’d be all over the chick, but not tonight, not like this, not with Melinda on my mind.
I gently pushed her away and said, “Hand me my drink, will you sweetheart?” She did, and finally the knock came at the door. “Expecting company?” I asked. She got a very concerned expression on her face and said, “No, you?”
“Maybe,” I said.
She jumped off and threw the robe back on as the second knock came. “Just a minute,” she said and tying the belt, opened the door.
Melinda stood there smiling. “Is Mr. Riggins here?” she asked cheerfully.
“Uh,” Penelope said and looked at me. I nodded. “Yes, he’s here. Won’t y’all come in?” Melinda entered the room and sat on the bed. “Hello William,” she said.
“Hello dollface. Do you know Penelope?”
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said and held out her hand. “Hello Penelope. I’m Melinda Hawthorn. I own this place.”
Penelope looked confused and a little afraid. The freshness had left her face. “I don’t understand. I…I’m a guest. I was just…”
“Can it doll,” I said flipping my badge. I was far enough away that she couldn’t see it was a New York badge. “We know you work for Rutger Bachman.”
“Oh. Oh, my,” she said and sunk to the bed. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, kid. Just play along and you won’t get into any trouble.”
She looked at me, then Melinda, then back at me. “Play along? Well all right mistuh, but I don’t do no girl-girl shows, at least I ain’t yet, so it may not be so good…”
Melinda let out a yelp, then she started laughing. “Oh, dear, you think that I…that we…oh, no dear, no it’s nothing like that.” I laughed too, although the thought didn’t sound all that bad to me. Oh well.
Penelope looked even more confused. “Oh, my mistake. Then what do you want?”
I picked the telephone off the nightstand and handed it to her on the bed. The wire just reached. “Call Bachman. Tell him Mr. Riggins needs to see him here in your room right away. Tell him to bring another bottle of Jim Beam, too.”
Reluctantly Penelope dialed the front desk and asked to have Bachman paged. We waited a few minutes and he called up. She told him what I said to, and hung up. “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” she said, and finished off her drink. “Mind if I have another?”
“Go right ahead,” I said. She did.
A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I answered. “Hello, Bachman, I said with a big smile. Thanks for coming up.” He stood there with a bottle of Boubon in his hand, looking uncharacteristically nervous. I held the door so he couldn’t see Melinda.
“Hello Mr. Riggins. Is there a problem? Something you need?”
“Small problem,” I said and let the door swing open. He saw Melinda sitting there with an angered look on her face. He said nothing, but his face wore surprise and regret.
“Come on in, let’s chat,” I said, and he did.
“Getting crowded in here,” Penelope said while pouring herself another drink. She was nervous.
“Don’t worry,” Melinda said, “We won’t be long. Bachman, you’re exposed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a half laugh. “Is this some kind of prank? If it is, I don’t get it.”
“No prank, Jack. You do realize I’m a cop, right?”
“Yes, a homicide Detective.”
“See, that’s where you got your facts all jumbled. I’m a vice cop. Catching that murderer was a favor. Generally I nail pushers, hookers, conmen, gambling rings, pimps...stuff like that. Ya dig?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand? We know Ms. Penelope here is a prostitute.” Penelope cringed and sucked down her drink in one shot. “We know you run hookers here from Largo and Key West. I know you’re tied to the Low Key club down there, and the prostitution that goes on. And I know Jessica Rutledge works for you.”
Bachman was silent a moment, then said, “You can’t prove any of that. You can’t prove….”
“I’m not interested in having you arrested, Rutger,” Melinda said. “But I don’t have to prove anything to fire you,”
Bachman turned to her and with his smarmiest voice said, “Mr. Hawthorn is aware of these activities and has given his approval.”
“Mr. Hawthorn feels he is no longer capable of making intelligent decisions concerning the Resort, and has relinquished control of Tiki Island to his sole heir, yours truly.” She gave her chest a little tap as she said it, one of those “I’m the big cheese” gestures. “So if you want to keep your position, I suggest you close up shop on your little side business tonight, and stick to running the housekeeping and gardening staffs.” She rose from the bed and I did too. “Good night, Ms. –”
“Oh, uh Smith. Penelope Smith.”
“Right,” she said, “Good night Ms. Smith. Please have your things packed and be ready to leave tonight on the nine o’clock boat to Key West.” She turned to Bachman. “Bachman, if you have any other ladies here in your employ, tell them to do the same. And please return the keys to rooms three-twenty to three-twenty-five to my office, tonight. That’s all. Please leave.”
Bachman said nothing. He remained haughty and left without closing the door. Penelope got her suitcase out from the closet; it was already mostly packed. “I’m very sorry, y’all,” she said as she packed. “I’m just a workin’ girl trying to earn a livin’. I had no idea someone else ran the place. He told me he was the owner.”
“I’ll bet he told you a lot of things that turned out to be lies, didn’t he,” I said more than asking. “I’ll bet the first time he bedded you he told you that you were special, didn’t he. Then he asked you to do a favor for a friend, and gave you a couple of bucks for it, didn’t he.”
“Somethin’ like that,” she said sadly.
“Kid, there’s more to life than this. Try to stay away from the Bachmans of the world and you just might be all right.” I took Melinda by the arm and we left, shutting the door behind us. Melinda was shaking.
Heading to the elevator I asked, “Was that true, what you said about Hawthorn giving over the hotel to you?”
“Yes, it was.”
“How did you swing that?”
“I made a deal with him.”
“What kind of a deal?”
She paused to hit the Lobby floor on the elevator buttons. “I told him I’d marry you,” she said. I don’t know if the knot in my gut was from the elevator or Melinda.
+++
Bachman was no idiot. He left room 322 and went straight for Hawthorn’s apartment on the other side of the hotel. He was steaming, but by the time he knocked on Hawthorn’s door he had regained his regal composure.
He knocked, waited, knocked again...The special knock that Hawthorn had taught him so he’d know it was Bachman.
He waited longer. Finally he heard the deadbolts thrown back, the chain unchained. The door opened to an eerily dark room with a dim light cast by a single candle. Bachman entered and the door shut behind him, along with the three locks. From the darkness near the door came a tired voice.
“Sit down Rutger,” Hawthorn said. Bachman did as he said, sitting on a carved-wood seat next to a giant stone fireplace. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as Hawthorn emerged from the shadows. “What brings you to my loft at so late an hour, my friend?”
“It’s Melinda, sir. She and that Detective from New York. They’ve discovered our…network.”
“Oh dear,” Hawthorn said and sat across from Bachman in a large bamboo rocker. He sipped hot tea and brandy from a vintage mug. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know. That’s not very important. What is important is that your daughter,” he put such loathing into the word that Hawthorn flinched, “has taken it upon herself to disband the operation, and has told me we a
re no longer to have ladies entertain our guests.”
“Did she”? Hawthorn whispered to himself.
“And furthermore, sir, I believe she has completely out-stepped her authority. She told me that you have given her total control over the Resort, because you are too incompetent to run it yourself,” Bachman added with even more disgust. “Can you imagine the nerve?”
“Well, yes, I can.” Hawthorn finished his tea and poured himself another brandy. He offered none to Bachman. “I must say I am a little surprised.”
“Surprised? What an understatement. You should be furious, sir.”
“Furious? No, not at all. Jubilant if anything.”
“Jubilant? Are you…I mean, wait, what do you mean?”
“I mean Rutger that I have given her that authority, on a single condition: That she marry that fine Detective from New York and settle in here to run the Island together. I suppose she must have made her decision. I should be very happy for her.”
“Good God, man, what did you do that for?” Rutger was beside himself. The outrage he felt earlier was nothing compared to what was happening to his boiling blood now. “Don’t you realize what that means?”
“I suppose it means you’ll be out of a job if you don’t listen to Melinda from now on. Come Monday I’m announcing her as Executive Director of Operations, and you’ll be working for her, directly.”
Bachman rose and helped himself to a brandy without asking. He drank it down fast and almost missed the table with the bottle in the darkness. “Listen to me, Mr. Hawthorn. If you allow this to happen you’ll have undone years of work setting just the right people and events in motion to run things the right way. And if we lose that, the hotel will lose its most prominent clients, and a lot of the things we get away with will become impossible to do. Do you understand me?”
“Perhaps it is time for some changes, Rutger. The world is changing around us. Rhythm and Blues music is replacing traditional standards. Television is replacing radio. People want faster cars and longer vacations. Perhaps those Very Important People you cater to aren’t all that important anymore.”
“You’re talking insanely, with all due respect, sir. The world is the same. Men still want to have a good time when they’re here and that includes not only the finest food and drinks but the finest women to sleep with and the finest narcotics to help them sleep. Take that away and we’re just another hotel on the water.”
Hawthorn suddenly grew angry. He rose from his chair and smacked his cane against the floor. “You hold your tongue, Bachman. Tiki Island will never be just another Hotel.” His words were shaky but stern. The anger showed on his face, even in the low candlelight. “No matter what you think, no one comes here for the hookers and drugs. Certainly they have in the past, and that’s how things were before the Resort was here. But I say this place is a wonderland, a place of mystery and beauty. We may have needed the girls to get things going, but today Tiki Island can stand on her own. And if you can’t see that, Rutger, perhaps it is time for us to part.” He sat back down, breathless.
Bachman rose once again and straightened his tie. “Sir, I have no intention of leaving this place or dissolving our relationship. In fact, I think you should reconsider Melinda’s appointment as Executive Director before you announce it. I think you should consider me for the appointment, and I think you know why.”
Hawthorn stopped cold. “Are you blackmailing me, Bachman?”
“Just pointing out that I know a few things about you that you’d not like the public to know. A few small things, old things but nevertheless important things. Things from your past you thought would remain buried, if you know what I mean.”
“Get out, Bachman,” Hawthorn said. “Leave my room now.”
“Certainly sir. I’ll be back tomorrow for your answer. I think I know what it is already.” Bachman gave a short bow and unlocking the door himself, left. Hawthorn quickly set the locks behind him, went back to his chair, and poured another brandy.
In the dark the voices came, then the apparitions, and he ended his torment for one more night with the little yellow pill prescribed by his doctor.
Saturday Night
Melinda and I took a private reserved table in the Hukilau dining room at around eight-thirty. A guitarist and bongo player along with low, colored lighting set the pre-show mood. Melinda had phoned our orders ahead, so appetizers of shrimp cocktail, chicken satay and crab Rangoon were already waiting for us when we sat.
“You really know how to set up an evening,” I said to Melinda as we sat. “Nice touch.”
“I was in a much better mood an hour ago when I set this up,” she said sulkily.
“Oh, come on kid, don’t be that way. Things are gonna change now, you’ll see. With or without me, they’ll change.” I raised my glass to her. “Here’s to the future, with you at the helm.”
She raised her glass back, and said, “And here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” which made me smile.
We didn’t talk much about Bachman or room 322 or even about the Resort. Somehow the conversation turned away from those unpleasantries and settled on each other. I told her all about my home in Weehawken and my apartment in the city, about Fast Freddie and Jerry, about the dive bars and hash joints I called home. She told me about her early days in California, about being schooled right here on the Island, and about how easy it was for her to learn four languages but how algebra left her flat. We laughed and ate a dinner that would have impressed the greatest chefs of the world.
Then precisely at nine, the stage lights dimmed and an announcer called out, “And now ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment pleasure, direct from Hawaii, Martin Denny.” The applause shook the house as the stage lights came up. “Black Orchid” rang out of the vibes, and for the second time I felt that I was actually in Hawaii.
“This is better than Hawaii,” Melinda said as if reading my mind. “You only have to go a hundred miles to hit the mainland here.”
“And Hawaii doesn’t have you, kitten.” She actually blushed a little.
We finished our dinner just as the band finished their first set. For dessert we had a sort of Crème Brule with tropical fruits, and Melinda introduced me to the exotic coffee drinks on the menu. I settled on something with chocolate liqueur and rum; it came flaming and almost scared me to death. Melinda laughed and we stayed on through the second set of Martin Denny’s incredible, mysterious Exotica music.
After the second set was finished we decided to take a walk around the Island. I led the way through the tables holding Melinda’s hand. It was nice.
“I love the beach at night,” she said. “There’s magic in the moonlight. Sometimes I even see the essences of old frigates and pirate ships out in the Gulf.”
“Essences? You mean like ghost ships?”
“Yes!” she said laughing. “Of course it helps if you’ve been drinking a lot of rum.”
“I’m sure it does.” We found ourselves on the North Beach again, in a fairly secluded spot away from the lights of the Hotel. A few couples were sitting on blankets looking out over the surf.
“Sit with me,” she said softly.
“We haven’t got a blanket.”
“Sure we have, wait here” she said, and made her way over to a little cabana. She returned with a giant beach blanket decorated with palm trees. “I have a key to everything,” she said.
“Including my heart, it would seem.” We spread the blanket out on the shore and looked out at the Gulf. Lights from ships twinkled in the distance. A cool summer breeze kept things perfect.
“So, William, what do you think of all this, really?”
I took a deep breath and looked over at her. She was perfect in the moonlight. “I think it’s paradise.”
“So do I,” she replied and leaned against my side. We just stayed like that for a while, then she kissed me out of the blue. It was a nice kiss, a very loving kiss, not filled with fire like the night before but with plenty of emotion. At le
ast that’s how I felt it.
I opened my eyes and was surprised to see someone walking very close behind her, so surprised I jumped back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, that woman just startled me, that’s all.”
“What woman?”
I turned and looked all around. No one was to be found within thirty yards of us. “I swear, I just saw…aw, that’s just crazy.”
“No, nothing’s crazy on Tiki Island, William. I told you before I’ve seen some strange things myself.”
So had I, but I wasn’t about to spill the Key West haunted house story to her just yet.
“Probably just too much rum. That stuff knocks me on my ass.”
“William!” she laughed and kissed me again. This time the fire was back. I was getting antsy.
“Listen, why don’t we move on, maybe find somewhere without any ghosts?”
“You mean like my room?” she said flirtingly.
“Am I that obvious?” I said.
“Don’t be coy.” She got up and I did too. “I’m just as anxious as you are,” she said and gave me another passionate kiss, one that had me going wild. “Let’s go. Leave the blanket.”
With that, we headed up to her room.
The phone rang at one a.m. We were both exhausted and could barely move, but she managed to pick it off the receiver before the second ring.
“Hello? Yes, of course…no, it’s all right Eliot, calm down, I’ll be there in a minute.” She said nothing to me as she rose from the bed, her naked body silhouetted against the open window for just a few seconds before she threw the silk robe over her back. She grabbed a brush from her vanity and ran it through her hair.
“Eliot needs me, William. He’s having nightmares again. I’m afraid I’ll need to stay with him until he falls asleep again, which could be a while. You’re welcome to stay here, or go back to your own suite if you want.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry, darling, but you must understand…”
Murder on Tiki Island: A Noir Paranormal Mystery In The Florida Keys (Detective Bill Riggins Mysteries) Page 28
