Key Weirder

by Robert Tacoma

  “But these Daltons, they’re safely locked up now?”

  “Yep. I’m pretty sure we’ve heard the last of the Daltons.”

  While mulling over that pleasant thought, I tied into a nice fish and after a good fight had myself a 20-inch redfish up to the boat. I got the hook out and dropped him back in the water. Redfish are a fine eating fish, but we’d come for trout. I gave Mary Ann a big grin like I was hot stuff for catching the first fish, and she give me the finger and kept on casting.

  There wasn’t much else going on there, so we ran the boat up to another spot a little closer to some mangroves. We’d seen a couple of other boats earlier, and except for the occasional helicopter, it was pretty quiet out on the water.

  I put the little mullet out the back of the boat with a float again, and got a nice redfish on my first cast with a plug. From what I could tell, it looked like Mary Ann was doing everything right, but hadn’t put a fish in the boat. She wasn’t saying much, just fishing. The live bait pole picked up some floating seagrass, so I was pulling it in when Mary Ann’s reel started making noise and she was fighting a fish. It took her a while, but she finally got a redfish bigger than mine up to the boat for the net. I told her I’d take her picture with the fish, so she pulled off clothes until she was down to a bikini swimsuit. I got a few pictures of the sleek, copper-colored fish, and the sleek woman with the ample chest holding it, before the big red went back in the water. Mary Ann stuck her tongue out at me and went back to fishing with a satisfied smile on her face.

  I was thinking maybe I should try going around the state fishing for redfish instead of trout when Mary Ann hooked into another nice red. She handled that fish like a pro and even insisted on netting it herself. This time after releasing the fish she give me the tongue thing again and then turned around and shook her ass at me a little. She gave me a real innocent look and big grin before going back to fishing, all proud of herself.

  “You know this ain’t fair, woman. I’m back here keeping a lookout on this other pole and watching we don’t drift up on a snag or get attacked by fisherman-eating manatees or anything. Besides, that swimsuit is mighty distracting for a poor but honest fisherman like myself.”

  I heard a splash behind the boat and turned to see if something was after the little mullet. The bait was fine though, and when I looked back up front Mary Ann had taken the top of her bikini off so it wouldn’t distract me.

  “Better?”

  She was giving me the innocent thing again and I gave her a nervous smile and started keeping a lookout for other boats.

  I got a small shark on the pole out back and then we tried another spot. I’d managed to talk Mary Ann into putting her top back on, but every time a helicopter or another boat was anywhere near she’d make like she was about to take it off again, just to mess with me.

  Towards noon we finally started getting into some small trout. I was rooting around in the icebox for a drink when the pole out back got hit. Mary Ann grabbed it and started fighting the fish. The fish came up and thrashed the surface a couple of times like big trout do, and sure enough it was a nice gator trout. She worked him with the rod tip up high when she got him close, and then the fish made a hard run under the boat. Mary Ann let the rod tip down to the water so he wouldn’t break the line, and slowly pulled the fish back out and I slipped the net under him. I dropped the netted trout in the boat, and Mary Ann and me high-fived and hugged. Looked to be close to a five-pound fish. After a couple more pictures the fish went on ice so he could join us for dinner later on.

  We could see a few dark clouds forming to the west, so after a little more fishing we took the scenic route back to the boat ramp.

  Baked Trout with Mushroom Sauce

  2 nice big skinned Speckled Trout fillets (This is better if you catch the fish yourself, and better yet if your ladyfriend catches it.)

  ¼ cup rum

  ½ cup fresh lime juice

  1 can condensed mushroom soup

  ½ cup milk

  1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms

  2 onions, sliced into thin rings

  2 teaspoons dried oregano

  2 tablespoons butter

  1 tbsp old bay seasoning

  1 handful Parmesan cheese

  Salt and pepper to taste

  ♦

  Place the fish fillets in a big baking dish coated with butter.

  If you somehow forgot to buy a lime when you stopped at the store on the way back from fishing, then don’t bother with the marinating and just drink the rum.

  Mix the milk and mushroom soup and pour over fillets.

  Put the sliced mushrooms, onion, and whatever else is left on next.

  Sprinkle cheese on top of the whole thing last.

  Put in a preheated oven for about 20 or 30 minutes at 350 degrees, and don’t wander off and start watching the game on TV or anything.

  When the fish flakes easily with a fork, it’s done!

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  11

  The Road

  Julian stuck to the back roads because he figured they’d be watching the big highways going up through the state. He hadn’t stopped while coming up the Keys on the lone road to the mainland. Once he got on the mainland, he knew he had a better chance of pulling it off.

  He was pumped. Julian still couldn’t believe he actually had the monument. It was a long haul though, a long way to Texas.

  The first gas stop in Homestead took most of his money. He called home and woke his father who started crying when Julian told him he had the monument. His father said he’d wire money in the morning when the Western Union office in Brownspot opened.

  Julian drove up the east coast and made Daytona by morning. There was a motel outside of town where he could park the truck off the road and hitchhike into town. He found the Western Union office, and by mid-morning he was back at the motel to get some sleep. He was tired, but so wound up he lay on the bed for a long time looking at the ceiling. The music in his head became longer and slower until he was asleep.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  12

  TV News for Taco Bob

  “Amazingly, there was nothing on about trout.”

  “TB! You gotta see this!”

  I came out of the bathroom, into the kitchen where Mary Ann and her roommate were making breakfast and watching a small TV. I saw just the end of a report about something that happened in Key West.

  “You missed it! Remember that huge concrete thing down there? The one that was supposed to be the marker for the southernmost point in the country? Somebody stole the sucker last night!”

  They had another news update at the top of the hour while we were finishing breakfast. Sure enough, there were pictures of a big front-end loader sitting where the monument used to be. A semi tractor-trailer was missing too. The cops weren’t saying much, but the news reporter said the word on the street had it a mob thing.

  “The biggest thing to happen in Key West in years and I missed it!” That got me a pop in the arm from Mary Ann, but I quickly covered. “But of course, I’d rather be here with you, sugarplum darling!”

  I lit up my best grin and aimed it at Mary Ann. I was watching for another jab in the arm and didn’t even think about getting kicked under the table until it was too late.

  ♦

  Neither one of us was real happy about me leaving, but Mary Ann had to go back to work and I had more trout to catch. After a good round of hugs and promises, I headed north up along the east coast toward St. Augustine.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  13

  Task Force

  After making a few discreet phone calls to make sure it really wasn’t a mob thing, the governor of Florida called a press conference to announce he was appointing a special task force to find the stolen monument.

  Operation Justifiable Outrage would be a combined effort of all state and local law enforcement agencies. All major highways in the state would be monitored by air as well as on the gr
ound. The governor said he was considering asking Washington for additional air support.

  With a fierce look in his eye, the governor pounded his fist on the podium and glared at the reporters and cameras.

  “The people of the great state of Florida will not stand still for this kind of flagrant disrespect for the law! I have been assured by my newly appointed task force commander that all our law enforcement resources will be in place by this very evening. This matter can and will be brought to a quick and definitive resolution!”

  His aides were ecstatic. They saw some great sound bites here that could be used in the upcoming re-election campaign.

  Governor Walker had been an amazingly energetic and charismatic gubernatorial candidate, but he seemed to slip into a near comatose state once in office. His tepid and lack-luster style soon earned him the name Governor Sleepwalker. With another election coming up, the governor was finally starting to show signs of his old campaign spirit. His aides couldn’t have been more relieved.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  14

  A Near Miss for Taco Bob

  “That got my attention!”

  I stuck to the back roads heading east because I wasn’t in any hurry, and you tend to see more interesting stuff that way too. Once I found the Atlantic coast I headed north along A1A for the ride up to St. Augustine. I’d called One Eyed Pete up in North Carolina before I left Key West, and again from Mary Ann’s place the night before. Pete worked for me out in Texas at the possum ranch. We met up again in Key West, and spent some quality time fishing together. He was going to drive down from NC and meet me in St. Augustine so we could see about finding some trout that might want to go for a ride in my boat.

  Going along the coast like that, I finally couldn’t stand looking out at all that Atlantic Ocean any longer and had to stop. I found a place to park my rig and walked out on the beach, took off my shoes and stood in the surf making a few casts with my fishing pole. There were a few people walking along the beach and a couple of those small planes pulling ad banners and one with no banner that kept flying over low. Since the fish weren’t interested in what I was doing and it was such a nice day, I decided to take a little stroll myself before getting back on the road.

  ♦

  Just after I cleared Daytona, a semi carrying something big covered with a tarp pulled out on the road from a little motel like he didn’t even see me. I laid on the horn and went off the road a little. The guy swerved back and let me by, then came in behind me. All I could think of was where the hell was a cop when you needed one.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  15

  A Cop

  Officer Muldoon had just come on duty after attending a briefing about a stolen truck carrying a big concrete marker from Key West. Three years ago he’d been in Key West and seen the marker himself. Some people will steal anything.

  He was working the section of the county north of Daytona when he saw a semi tractor-trailer come close to running a pickup with a boat off the road. He gave his motorcycle some throttle to get a closer look at the semi.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  16

  Julian

  Julian was awake now. That was a close call with the pickup, he didn’t even notice it when he pulled onto the road. He’d only gotten a couple hours sleep before waking up and deciding to go for it.

  He was cool now. Just going to follow this pickup and boat along the coast here. Not much traffic, just a motorcycle behind him.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  17

  Saul

  Saul was trying to keep an eye on the beach as he drove. Never know when there might be something there he needed to get a look at. Nice pair of tanned female ass-cheeks sticking out of a thong would be nice.

  Had a good wad of gum going – always ready. Pickup with a boat, then a semi coming. Saul spit the gum in his hand and lobbed it at the last second. He almost hadn’t seen the bike behind the big truck.

  Saul watched his rearview mirror. He grinned when he saw the motorcycle go down. He was good, no doubt about it. Only bad thing was it looked like a cop. Okay, it was a cop. Needed to try not to do that, since they were supposed to be on the same side and all.

  There was a row of deep cuts along the plastic dashboard of the van. Saul pulled out a big Rambo knife and chopped in another notch. Still smiling.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  18

  One Eyed Pete and Taco Bob

  “Screw the trout!”

  There was still a couple of hours of daylight left when I pulled into St. Augustine. Pete had made reservations for us a couple days earlier at a motel right there by the big marina.

  I got myself squared away with the room and wandered on over toward the marina to wait for the man to show. There was a nice little bar and grill where you could sit at a table and look out over the goings-on at the marina.

  I talked myself into sitting down and having a little drink, since it looked like an ideal place to kick back and pass judgment on the world at large. A nice young gal waitress showed up and said she’d be glad to bring me any kind of drink I could think of, so I thought one up real quick and settled in.

  It was an easy kind of evening to enjoy from where I was looking at life, and I was checking my hands and about done with my drink when I spotted a familiar-looking fella with an eye patch.

  Pete and me done all the hand shaking and grinning, then got down to giving our opinions about the current and near-future weather. We ordered up a round of refreshments while talking fishing and life in general.

  The man had him a sweet deal going up there in North Carolina alright. The fella he was working for was a big-time developer and one of your better fisherman. Turns out the man had plenty of money and was a helluva nice guy to work for, a combination Pete highly recommended. He was taking care of one of the man’s boats while learning all he could about fishing, and was having a damn good time doing it.

  The cute little gal waitress brought our drinks and we each took a good taste. Pete leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and came up with a mischievous grin.

  “I know you’re wanting to take your boat out in the morning and try for some trout, but I got something you might want to think about while we’re still in the early planning stages of our fishing trip.”

  Since I considered myself to be an open-minded person in life’s more pressing matters like drinking, fishing, and sex, I gave him the eyebrows-up signal to continue.

  “There’s a charter boat captain here named Captain Ron who’s supposed to be one of the best for offshore in the state. The man I work for said he’d be glad to pay for a full-day charter if I wanted, said it would be good experience for me.”

  This sounded pretty damn good, and after some token resistance I let myself be talked into it. Turns out Pete already had it all set up for in the morning, so it looked like the trout in the area were going to have to find somebody else to catch ‘em. We sat there and talked and planned and laughed. We watched the lights come on in the marina as darkness slipped in and did its best to cover the mistakes of daylight once again.

  After a fine dinner in a restaurant there by the marina, we sat out by the pool at the motel and had a short one before hitting the sack. There were fish to catch in the morning.

  ♦

  The next day, Captain Ron had a couple of eager fishermen on his hands at sunrise. The boat was a 27 foot Proline set up for one thing – fishing offshore. Everything on that boat was first-class equipment and was set up to take up as little space as possible. The Captain went over safety and emergency procedures with us and showed us some things about the marine radio and operating the boat. The weather looked like it was going to hold on as predicted, and we were stoked coming out of the marina, heading into the sun. There were a few other boats heading out and one seemed to be following us. I was informed it wasn’t unusual for a boat to tag along hoping to find some of Captain Ron’s secret spots.

  When aske
d what kind of fish we’d like to be airing out on such a nice-looking day, I thought about mentioning the trout thing, but said we’d be proud to have a look at whatever presented itself. After a while, lines went out for trolling to see if there were any fish hanging by a weedline that we came up on. Pete and I assured Captain Ron we were both experienced seamen and could probably at least steer the boat without screwing up too bad, so he had us taking turns at the wheel while he checked the lines.

  That boat was laid out so everything was right within easy reach, and Captain Ron was doing everything with no wasted movements. The man knew his stuff.

  Wasn’t long before we were into some small dolphin. We released ‘em as they came in, and then Pete got something big really smoking the line off his reel. After getting the other lines in we came around and ol’ Pete got down to business with bringing in his fish. We figured a big kingfish and we weren’t far off, as he brought up the first Wahoo I’d seen. We got a quick picture of about five foot of fish with some serious teeth and about six foot of one-eyed fisherman grinning some teeth himself.

  After we turned Pete’s big Wahoo loose, we trolled over in some deeper water and sure enough, tied into a nice sailfish long enough to get him to jump for one quick look.

  Later on Captain Ron set us up to drift over an old wreck he knew about. He rigged a couple of poles for us to bottom fish and we sent down some baits to see what was down there. The captain was watching the electronic fish-finder and saying something about coming up on the spot when I heard Pete grunting. I looked over and seen his pole bent over hard, and he was doing his best not to get pulled overboard.