Carol knew it was a long shot, but she really wanted to know what was in that bag she’d been sitting on.
As bad as she wanted that other Chacmool, Carol was staying the hell away from Florida. There were people she could hire to find this fisherman for her. Professionals who could locate him, maybe even make some inquiries about what was in that bag. He shouldn’t be that hard to find. How many thin, suntanned guys with a southern drawl could be riding around the waters of south Florida in a white boat anyway?
♦
Only the best private detective agency in LA would do, so Carol looked in the phone book and called the one with the biggest ad.
Thompson’s Discreet Inquiries had their offices just off Rodeo Drive, a plus in Carol’s book. An appointment was set up for that afternoon, and Carol squeezed into a tasteful bustier and designer jeans ensemble for the meet. A quick check in the mirror on the way out showed just the kind of voluptuous bod any girl could ask for, plus about five pounds. Other than the weight thing, Carol liked what she saw – a sophisticated and sexy look that demanded respect.
Two gentlemen, one of them Mr. Thompson himself, and the other, Paul Smit, head of investigations, met with her in their well-appointed offices. Except for Smit staring at her breasts, the men were polite and professional. Their ad said they specialized in delicate matters for celebrities. Another plus. Carol wasn’t really a celebrity, but she liked to think of herself as one. At least she dressed the part.
“Gentlemen, you see before you a woman who needs a man.” A quick wink at Smit. “But not just any man.” She held up a designer checkbook. “My little friend here and I are looking for a man with a lumpy sack.”
The Head Witchette wrote a check for the deposit after giving them all the information she could think of about the fisherman and his boat. Carol left her checkbook out on the table, pen in hand.
“If during the course of your investigation you should happen to find a little gold statue somewhere in the vicinity of the fisherman, I would be more than happy to pay double the normal fee.”
That got their attention. There was some token mentioning of possible ethical and legal problems with such a recovery operation, but all that seemed to be resolved by Carol opening her checkbook again. They took the photograph of the Chacmool and another substantial check. When Carol left, everyone was smiling.
♦
“Christ on a stick! You see the outfit that woman was wearing? What a slut!”
Thompson continued shaking his head in disbelief as he dropped the picture of the gold figurine on the table, then started going through some furniture catalogs at the end of the conference table.
“Yes, her clothes were a bit provocative.”
Thompson looked up at the younger man, who seemed on the verge of a major blush.
“Provocative? I thought you were going to drool all over the contract before she could sign it.”
Smit’s face went to full blush. Thompson didn’t notice; he opened a catalog and flipped pages.
“Who have we got to put on this?”
Smit cleared his throat.
“We’ll have to sub this out; all our people are jammed. Jim and his boys are still on the Nicholson stakeout and Eddie’s got his team on the Malone situation. Gary’ll be back from vacation next week, but you know he doesn’t like to work out of town.”
Thompson picked up another catalog and motioned for Smit to continue.
“There’s one guy that did work for us before, out of Georgia. A bounty hunter named Saul Thorpe. Big guy with a shaved head and tattoos, he’s not what you’d call a class act. Been in trouble a few times for being a little too aggressive in his investigations. He’s cheap though.”
“Sounds like our man. Make it happen.” Thompson held a catalog up. “Which of these wall coverings do you like for the lounge, the beige or the tan?”
∨ Key Weirder ∧
7
Saul
Saul stuck to the back roads as much as possible. When he was driving on a country road, he tried to keep from having cars too close in front or behind him. He liked to have some room.
He liked the narrow two lane roads for one of his hobbies – motorcycles. He hated motorcycles. He hated a lot of things, but hating motorcycles could be good sport.
The only time Saul chewed gum was driving. Nothing like cruising along in the van doing sixty, a big wad of gum going, and seeing a bike coming towards him up ahead. Check the back quick. Form the gum into a perfect ball and spit it in his hand. Ready.
A good lob with just the right wrist action and a little luck would give the biker a wad in the face at 120mph. Nothing like it to break the monotony of driving. Kept you alert.
Saul had experimented with different projectiles. D-cell flashlight batteries were awesome, as were nails and machine screws. Once, when he was really bored and a little drunk, he bought a dozen live mice from a pet store. Distributed them one at a time through a large pack of bikers coming back from a rally. Couple of great wrecks that day. Had to ditch the car after that. It was stolen anyway.
♦
The agency had said the guy he was looking for had been seen at some place on the lower west coast of Florida. So he was driving the back roads down the east coast of the state. It wasn’t the fastest way, but there were usually a lot of bikers around Daytona. Then he could cut across to the west coast.
He’d been to Florida for work before. One time he was looking for this Mexican guy, jumped bail on a weapons charge. Went to the brother’s house, asked where the jumper was. Guy said he didn’t know, but his eyes said he was lying. Florida has these ants that make mounds a foot high out in the fields. Fire ants. Staked the brother out on one of the mounds. Guy went crazy. Ropes were cutting his wrists and ankles. Bit through the gag and his tongue. Way too much blood and noise. Turned out the guy didn’t know after all.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
8
Julian
The redhead was nineteen and had come to Key West with her mother to visit Uncle Rob. They had rented a small two-bedroom house in one of the nicer compounds with a pool and hot tub. A few days before their two-week stay was over, mom had to fly back to North Carolina for some kind of emergency at work. She reluctantly agreed to let her daughter stay. After all, the rent was already paid and the uncle was around if there were any problems.
The girl with the long red hair had just come back from seeing her mother off at the airport, and was taking a walk when she found Julian. She brought him back to the compound with her.
Two days later Julian was lying out by the pool in his new swim trunks the girl had bought him. She had bought him a lot of things, mostly clothes. They ate in some nice restaurants too. Mom had left her Gold Card for emergencies. This quiet, good-looking young man was an emergency if ever she had seen one.
♦
Julian enjoyed the feel of the afternoon sun on his body as he lay on the pool deck with his feet dangling in the water. There was a little soreness from his times with the athletic and affectionate young woman, but it was a good soreness. He smiled.
Something blocked the sun, and he opened his eyes. His new friend and lover was standing over him.
“Hey, Uncle Rob called and said he’s going to take us out on his big boat tomorrow to do some fishing. Cool, huh?”
She jumped into the pool, splashing him with water. He took his sunglasses off, laid them on the pool deck, and slipped into the water, still smiling.
♦
Uncle Rob got all excited about the big sailfish, but Julian thought all the fish they caught were pretty amazing. He hadn’t realized how colorful some of the fish like dolphin really were. It was a beautiful calm day out on the water and they were back in before it got too hot.
Uncle Rob dropped off some of the dolphin fillets at a restaurant on his way home so his favorite niece and her friend could be assured of having the freshest fish that evening.
All the sun out on the boat must have made
the red-haired girl feel even more affectionate because she insisted they go have a little lie-down before getting cleaned up for dinner.
♦
The owner of the restaurant was a friend of Uncle Rob’s and he made sure they had the best table by a window up front. The fish was excellent broiled and served on angel hair pasta with white sauce, conch salad, and a nice bottle of French wine. After a generous slice of Key Lime Pie, they took a stroll down lively Duval Street, then sat in on some live music at a bar with a name neither of them could remember the next day. The place was nearly empty and they sat at a little table by the stage. The musician was a popular local singer and guitar player. He asked them if they had any songs they would like to hear. Julian didn’t miss a beat.
“Anything but Tequila Breakfast!”
This got a big smile from the music man.
“And you miss? Is there something you’d like to hear?”
“How about a ballad? One with beaches and boat drinks, blue sky days and warm, romantic nights?”
“How about this?”
Neither of them had ever heard the song before, but it was lovely and sad, and brought tears to their eyes. It was a new song, one he had just written. After a couple more of his own songs, the musician took a break. He sat at their table and let them buy him a beer, then told some great jokes about pirates and treasure. After a while he said he had to get back to work because the bar was filling up.
A table of people with sunburned faces begged to hear the song that had brought them to the Keys. The musician looked over at Julian and the young woman with the red hair, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. As they made their way out of the bar they could hear him singing the words to the familiar song.
“Tired of the snow,
But I know which way to go.
There’s a place called the Florida Keys.
Gotta head down south,
and put a drink in my mouth.
Give me coconut trees and a warm ocean breeze.
♦
Won’t have to go very far,
Once I get to Sloppy’s Bar.
Gotta do it all just once before I die.
All that clear blue water is near,
I could live on conch fritters and beer.
Tequila for breakfast? Think I’ll give it a try!”
It was such a beautiful evening they walked to the beach for a stroll in the cool night air. Between the two of them they could name six star constellations, then they started making up new ones. She seemed to have an endless supply of funny names for stars, and they were still laughing in the cab on the way back to the little house.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
9
Keep on Truckin’
Julian hadn’t forgotten why he was in Key West, but he hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought recently either. The girl with the long red hair was gone. They’d said their tearful goodbyes at the airport earlier.
But the Southernmost Monument was still there. Still massive, solid, and maybe even heavier, at least it looked heavier. It was dark and the wind was picking up. A storm was coming in, not many people out.
Julian stood back by the fence and stared at the marker in the dark. He thought about why he had come. His town, his family. He heard the opening bar from “The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly” in his head. The wind picked up.
“Excuse me.”
A male voice. Julian turned slowly and was confronted by a big man with a big belly and a hat that said something about truckers doing something better.
“You wanna make twenty bucks, kid? All ya gotta do is watch my truck for an hour while I get a quick beer over at the titty bar.”
The wind was making so much noise in the palm trees Julian hadn’t heard the big semi-trailer rig pull up on the street. It had a low trailer carrying the biggest yellow front-end loader he had ever seen.
“Maybe I’ll pull up here a little so I ain’t blocking that driveway back there. I’ll leave it running for the air conditioning. Here’s the key to the door in case the cops give ya a hard time about it being parked there. You know how to drive one of these? Good. I’m just going to walk over to the titty bar and have a couple of beers and be right back. Here’s ten now and there’s another ten when I get back.”
Julian stood there with the ten spot in his hand flapping in the breeze. The man swaggered down the street in the direction of the Pink Snapper. Julian could hear every note of “The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly” like he was standing in the middle of a full orchestra.
♦
When business was good, Julian’s father rented big trucks to haul illegal immigrants and⁄or drugs up north. Julian knew how to drive big trucks.
The loader was a different story, but it turned out to be easier than he thought. Except for a couple of palm trees and part of the fence, he had no problem getting the monument on the trailer.
The storm was getting closer and the wind was really whipping the tarp, but he finally got the marker mostly covered. It was lying down on the trailer at an angle – along with a lot of beach sand – but it was on there.
He parked the loader and put the mass of keys from the trucker in his pocket before wiping down the steering wheel and controls with a rag. He grabbed his bag and ran to the truck. The first key on the ring he tried opened the door, and he was just pulling onto the road when the rain started.
♦
The trucker figured it wasn’t his fault. If there hadn’t been half price drinks he wouldn’t have gotten so drunk. If he hadn’t gotten so drunk he would have kicked that bouncer’s ass. If he’d kicked the bouncer’s ass, he might have gotten out of the bar before the cops showed and hauled him off to jail.
He hoped that kid had enough sense to turn off the truck engine sometime during the night so it wouldn’t use too much fuel. He probably ought to get one of the cops to go by and check on his truck.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
10
Indian River Trout for Taco Bob
“Trout, at last!”
The sky was just getting light as we headed east towards the coast. We stopped at a little bait place on the way for coffee. There was a friendly old fella running the place, said he used to do a little guiding. He sold us a map and marked some spots we might try for trout on the Indian and Banana Rivers.
Those rivers are long, wide, mostly shallow stretches of water running along just inland of the east coast. The Banana River sounded best, so that’s where we headed.
The sun was up good by the time we got to the boat ramp. It was a fine, clear, cool morning and it felt damn good to be running across the water with Mary Ann beside me there in the boat again. There was a lot of bird life, and not many houses out there. We even saw a couple of eagles circling the river looking for breakfast. I stopped a couple of places and threw the cast net and pretty soon had some nice little finger mullet for bait. When we came up on some oyster bars along the mangrove shoreline, I decided to let the boat drift.
“We’ll try this a while, see if there’s any ornery trout here wanting to take a swat at one of our lures.”
Mary Ann had been out fishing with me a couple of times down in Key West, and she was determined to show me she could hold her own fishing for trout. She stood on the bow deck casting a topwater plug while I got a pole baited up with a finger mullet to let drift behind the boat. She had a good hit on the surface, but the fish missed. She kept at it though, determined as ever.
“Taco, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What happened to those two guys you said were following you when you came to Key West?”
“That would be the Daltons. They got themselves caught stealing books out of the Hemingway House while I was off to the ‘Glades.”
“So they’re in jail? You never did talk much about it, but I got the feeling those guys weren’t looking out for your best interests.” She turned around and gave me a look that strongly suggested I come clean.
“Lenny and George followed me to Florida after ta
king kind of an unauthorized leave of absence from prison. Had it in their thick heads their time behind bars was my fault, since I was on the jury found ‘em guilty of breaking into damn near every house and business in a three county area.”
I was casting a jig and trying to keep an eye on the little mullet with the float out behind the boat.
“You’re saying they escaped from prison and followed you to Florida? You never told me that part. You just said if I saw a little guy and a really big guy to stay away from them and let you know.” My fishing partner was looking a little pissed. “But they’re in jail in Key West now, nothing to worry about, end of story?”
“Well, they did slip away and stop by once after I got back in town. But the police gathered ‘em up, and the last I heard they were in that big prison over by Miami.”
“They broke out of jail again, and ‘stopped by’?” She had her sunglasses off and was giving me the narrowed eyes thing. I hate that. “You want to tell me just what that was all about?”
As a matter of fact, I didn’t.
“It wasn’t much. The police showed before anything happened.”
“What were they planning to do? Did they have a gun, or something?”
“No, no gun.”
Luckily, I didn’t have to explain it was more like a missile, though small as missiles go, because Mary Ann got a big strike right then that missed. That put her mind back on the things at hand.
“I can’t believe another fish missed my lure! Come back, fishy. Third time’s the charm!”
“Keep at it, maybe he’ll give it another try.”
Mary Ann was getting better at handling a rod and reel. She worked that plug slow like she knew what she was doing. Her blonde hair had grown out of the buzzcut a little, but it was still pretty short. We both had on sweatshirts for the ride out, but the sun warmed things up fast and we started shedding clothes.
Key Weirder Page 3
