by Tom Shepherd
“Lookit, I’m supposed to carry y’all down there personally.”
“Can’t I change clothes?” she said.
“Yeah, okay. That’s cool. Go on an’ change. I’ll tell them you’re coming.”
“I’m ready.” Eric grabbed his laptop and followed the bartender’s flashlight down the gloomy corridor.
When the door closed at the bottom of the stairs, Tanella hoisted the candle and marched off in the darkness. I trotted after her, falling over the coffee table.
“Ouch! Tanella, wait up. Where you going?”
“Hot tub. If the bathroom door locks, our drugs are safe.”
“Please don’t say our drugs.”
She tucked the shower curtain between the lip of the tub and the mound of dope bundles. I watched, holding the candlestick aloft and trembling as I thought about what might happen when this mound of poison is discovered. I was quivering so much I dribbled hot wax on the toilet seat. When I bent to scrape it off with my nails, more spilled on the tile floor. I whispered a string of words I didn’t want Tanella to hear.
“Okay. Let’s change clothes.” Her eyes were dark crescents flickering in the candlelight. “We have a killer to catch.”
* * * *
Soiled table cloths and crystal pitchers half full of stagnant water dotted the main dining room, which was lit by a forest of tall candles, at least one per table top. The restaurant was big enough we did not feel crowded, even with Ahmad’s buddies and the Israeli delegation sharing the room with Olivia Bennett, Uncle Bob, Eric, Tanella and me. Also those two hotel workers from Atlanta, who shuttled cold sandwiches from the kitchen. Oh, and the military guys—two Army pilots and two crew members off the Chinook helicopter—slumped at a big table by the piano. They looked wet and a bit frustrated. I heard they borrowed a groundskeeper’s truck to back their chopper into the largest open space available, the concrete-walled, all-weather tennis court behind the leeward wing of the hotel. Now, they played cards and drank coffee.
April Eddington came in and sat at the piano, playing old movie songs like “Lean on Me” and “Unchained Melody.” But I barely heard the music with the rain battering shutters like somebody relocated the hotel under Niagara Falls.
Inspector Borkowski brought Dr. Blake into the dining room. Tanella ran to her dad and they hugged, despite his handcuffs. Borkowski let them sit together for sandwiches, although Tanella only nibbled when her dad insisted she must eat. A few minutes later Olivia Bennett swished over to Dr. Blake’s table and whispered something, then left the room.
I was gobbling a ham and cheese on white bread when Ahmad asked if he could speak with me. We sat alone at a table near the dark fireplace in the far corner of the vast dining room, flanked by two plywood covered windows. Moses brought a dish with a bayberry candle, and soon Ahmad was smiling across the yellow flame while I chewed potato chips.
“Sally Ann, the meeting will reconvene in a few minutes.”
“I thought we had to wait here until the storm passed.”
“Negotiations are at a crucial stage. We meet down the corridor in the Aspinwall Room, which the police have declared as safe as this dining area.” He sighed. “I must pick a decision.”
“Make.”
“Pardon me?” Ahmad said.
“We pick noses. We make decisions.”
“I must find a way to contact Utaybah. The mobile phone system is not working. Something has happened to the relay stations on the mainland. I do not understand the technology. Abdu’l believes there is a satellite phone somewhere on the premises, so I sent him to look for it. For now, I am without guidance. I cannot call my father.”
I shrugged. “Decide by yourself.”
“I told you, a diplomat cannot just—”
“Look, suppose I’m baby-sitting, right? I’m watching Marvin the Monster, his parents are at the 10 o’clock movie at Columbia Square. Marvin says, ‘Yo, babysitter, can I stay up an’ watch The Texas Chain Saw Massacre?’ I don't call the theater and page his parents. I pack the little creep straight to bed. Want a chip?”
He waved off the bag. “Please forgive me, but babysitting a child and negotiating oil prices for the world market are not entirely similar.”
“No foolin’. Y’all get to blame the Israelis if the deal falls through. Who do I blame if Marvin wakes up with nightmares for the next forty years?” I popped the last chip and crumpled the bag.
“Sally Ann, you are a lovely child—”
“You weren’t kissing a child.”
“Of course not!” His face flushed. “I… I meant it affectionately. Like the word babe.”
“Know what your problem is? Your attitude sucks. ‘I’m only here because my daddy’s the Emir.’ Dude, that’s bull. You’re on the playing field because you’re too good to keep on the bench. Best freaking Arab diplomat on the planet. You’re like an oilfield on fire.”
“Uh…that is not a good thing.”
“You know what I mean! You can do it. You can make this world a better place. All you gotta do is believe in Ahmad.”
“Perhaps it is my fate to pick this—I mean, make this decision.”
“Forget fate! It’s your turn at bat.”
He laughed. “Baseball. I’ve never understood that game.”
“What’s to understand? Hit the ball and run like hell.”
When the Israeli delegation and Uncle Bob drifted out of the restaurant, Ahmad bowed and followed them, promising to return at the next break in their talks. I was looking for a place to curl up for some rest when the French doors flew open and Moses blew in.
“Inspector! Y’all better come quick. It’s terrible!”
Borkowski was drinking coffee with the helicopter pilots. He wiped his lips with a linen napkin.
“What is it now?”
“They’s a blood trail leading to the Blake girl’s apartment.”
Borkowski turned to Tanella. “Miss Blake, you and your two friends come with me.”
“Inspector!” Dr. Blake stood, still handcuffed. “You aren’t really taking these children with you?”
“Relax, Professor. They’ll be safe with me. Besides, I need them to tell me if anything is missing or out of place.”
“There’s a murderer running loose,” Dr. Blake said.
“I’ll leave Sergeant Springer here with you. Take Officer Curtis along with me for backup. Okay?”
Sergeant Springer shifted his feet, facing Dr. Blake, who studied the two uniformed men. I studied them, too, especially the black cop’s physique. Shorter than the blond Officer Curtis, the muscles of Sergeant Springer’s brown arms twisted and bulged below the cut of his short sleeve khaki shirt. His neck fanned out like a Cobra’s hood, rippling as he turned. God, he was built. The Rock dipped in chocolate.
“Take the sergeant,” Tanella’s dad said. “At least I know he’ll care about a black kid’s safety.”
“Now, there’s no call for that kind of talk, Dr. Blake. You needn’t worry about—”
“About four murders? You’re taking my daughter and two other children into a dark hotel with the killer lurking somewhere, and I shouldn’t worry?”
Borkowski shrugged. “Want to come along?”
“No!” Tanella said.
“Uncuff me.”
“Can’t,” Borkowski said. “You’ll have to travel like that.”
“Daddy—”
“Let’s go,” Dr. Blake said.
Borkowski stationed Officer Curtis outside the Aspinwall room where Ahmad and the Israelis were talking oil and war. I was glad to see the armed guard, since Uncle Bob was in there, too.
We galumphed down the murky hall like a herd of jabberwockies. Borkowski’s flashlight searched ahead of us while Sergeant Springer illumined the corridor to the rear.
Moses was right.
At the door to the lower suite where the adults slept, we found a puddle of blood, and the trail trickled to the bare wood steps which climbed to our youth suite. The roar of
wind-driven rain on the roof dampened the sound of a dozen feet clomping up the steps. Two police flashlights shined through the handrail at the top of the stairs to cast shadows like prison bars sliding across the ceiling. Sergeant Springer stayed with Tanella’s dad and us kids in the TV room while Borkowski crept into the room shared by me and Tanella. Rain rumbled so loudly it filled the universe.
I leaned to Tanella’s ear. “What if he finds the—”
“I locked the door.”
“But—”
“Shhh!”
We listened to the clattering wind and downpour for several minutes, then Borkowski returned. “Blood trail. No corpse.”
“Anything in the bathtub?” Eric said.
I punched his ribs.
“Ow! Quit, Sally Ann.”
Borkowski put a hand on Eric’s shoulder and shined the flashlight on his head. “Tell me about the bathtub, kid.”
I exchanged glances with Tanella. Eric stared at the floor, hands in his pockets. He did not answer.
“What’s in the bath tub?” Borkowski said.
“Nothing,” Eric said.
“Young man,” Borkowski said slowly, “do the words ‘criminal conspiracy’ and ‘Youth Detention Center’ have any meaning to you?”
“Drugs! It was drugs—Tanella and Sally Ann carried them up here in duffel bags all afternoon and I didn’t do nothin’ it was all their fault and I was playing video games and—”
“You traitor!” I said.
“Babe, what is Eric babbling about?” Dr. Blake said to Tanella.
“I feel awful about this, Daddy. I may have caused someone’s death.” She was fighting tears, losing the battle.
Tanella explained how we hauled the coke packages from Antonucci’s boat to our tub. Dr. Blake closed his eyes and swayed as she spoke, occasionally shaking his head. Inspector Borkowski kept quiet until she was done.
“Well, little Miss Genius, looks like your amateur detective work has turned ugly. You deliberately interfered with a crime scene, broke into a private vessel, and transported illegal controlled substances. You’re guilty of several felonies and violations of federal racketeering statutes. And, yeah. You probably got some doper shot in your bedroom. If I had any hard evidence, I’d arrest you and your dippy girlfriend.”
“No evidence?” I said. “What about the dope bundles?”
“No drugs, no dead person.”
I started to protest. “But that’s impossible!”
“Shut up.” Borkowski patted the heel of his hand with the flashlight. “I frankly don’t know what is going on here. All these murders—this jurisdiction is a tourist resort. Since you showed up here, it’s like a bad night in Atlanta.”
Tanella stepped up to Borkowski. “May I ask—”
“You may not. Now, we’re all going back down to the dining room to ride out this hurricane. If the tidal surge doesn’t wash the building away and drown us all, I’m taking Dr. Blake to jail in Brunswick. And then I’m bringing every cop in southeast Georgia out here to find those drugs, the drug pushers, and the killers.”
“Killers?” Tanella said. “So, my father isn’t the only suspect?”
“Kid, for all I know, could be five killers. We’re all going to stick together so nobody else ends up dead.”
* * * *
When we returned to the Grand Dining Room, Borkowski sat with Tanella’s dad at a table-for-two by the sealed windows, and Officer Springer helped Eric tear open packets of Ritz crackers. It was getting late and the rain made everybody drowsy. Everybody but Tanella. She grabbed my elbow and pushed me into the kitchen. I thought for sure Borkowski would come after us, but nobody noticed. Portable gas burners gave the kitchen an eerie blue light. It felt hot and stuffy and smelled like armpits after P.E. class.
“Who wasn’t here?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“We need a killer and a victim. Who wasn’t in the dining room when Moses found blood in the hall?”
“Jeez, Tanella—”
“My father and the two cops came down with Borkowski. Hector Bennett and April Eddington were missing.”
“April was playing the piano.”
“She came in late,” Tanella said.
“She’s just a singer, a comedienne.”
“Miss Eddington told us Tony McClure was leaving because he got an offer in Las Vegas. Tony said he was running from the druggies.”
“So? He lied to her,” I said.
“Maybe she lied to us—getting McClure, you and me in the same place to kill all three of the witnesses.”
“Wow! You think she’s the killer?”
“I don’t know yet. Too many people around here are not what they seem to be.”
“Like who else?” I said.
“Moses.”
“Are you for real? He found the blood.”
“How convenient.”
“He’s just a bartender.”
She shook her head. “That man is no bartender. He let us sit at the bar without our parents. He didn’t know how to mix a kid’s drink.”
“Not everybody has your memory. He forgot, okay?”
“After tending bar for twenty years?” Tanella waved a hand. “Even Eric knew what’s in a Shirley Temple.”
“Okay. Moses is a suspect. Anybody else missing? Wait! Olivia Bennett left before Moses reported the murder. Jeez! Almost everybody is a murder suspect. This ain’t a good night to sleep tight.”
“What about the victim?” Tanella said. “Who’s missing?”
“Hector Bennett—”
“He came down a few minutes ago.”
“Uh—let’s see. Mr. Wechtel and Ahmad have been locked up alone together for hours with Uncle Bob. They took a break for coffee, then went right back at it.”
“What about Abdu’l?” she said.
I nodded. “Ahmad said Abdu’l went looking for a way to contact Utaybah. Satellite phone or something.”
Tanella poked the door open a crack and scanned the room. “Not here.” Her eyes grew larger. “Hasn't come down yet.”
“We’d better tell Inspector Borkowski.”
“Service stairwell at the rear of this kitchen. Let’s go find Abdu’l ourselves.” She started out the back, past a stainless steel table where two bushels of salad wilted in the heat. I followed her bobbing single braid in the blue gaslight.
“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this. Jesus Christ—this is supposed to be my vacation.”
“Don’t swear,” she said.
“I'm praying!”
“Hurry, let’s run.”
“Why can’t we just go swimming and ogle at the boys like a normal vacation? Nooooo! We’ve got to play peek-a-boo with Jack the Ripper in a dark, ol’ hotel in a hurricane.”
Tanella’s penlight squirted a thin haze of light ahead of us as we climbed a back stairway designed for waiters and housekeeping personnel. Beyond the kitchen door the storm pounded directly on the dark skylight that capped the stairwell, amplifying the noise from mere clunking hammers to a factory’s steady rumble. The air tasted stale and tepid. No electricity, no air conditioning.
“Why didn’t you tell Borkowski, let him fetch Abdu’l?” I said as we reached the floor which held the Utaybah delegation’s suite.
“Because he might have sent Springer or Curtis, and I don’t know if we can trust them. Or he might have taken my dad again.”
As we approached the room I was relieved to discover signs of life. A yellow mist seeped under the door. Not electric light, something fainter. When Tanella knocked, someone inside groaned. I backed to the far wall, trembling, but she thrust the door open wide.
I followed her inside.
Twenty-One
A sharp pong of kerosene flooded the room, thanks to an old-fashioned hurricane lamp that cast pale shadows from a table by the sofa. Abdu'l lay on the floor, and even in the thin light I saw him bleeding on the carpet. His white robes were soaked red at the chest.
> “Oh, God—Oh, God!” I shouted. “I’m going to puke.”
“He’s been shot.”
“Oh, God.”
Tanella ripped at his robe's neckline, but it wouldn’t tear. I turned away, retching. She slapped me across the shoulders, hard.
“Stop it!” Tanella said. “I need you.”
She hit me so sharply I flew forward and knocked a dark lamp off the end table. If it had been the hurricane lantern, I might have burned the goddamned hotel down.
“That hurt!”
“I’m sorry—help me.”
We rolled Abdu’l on his left side; Tanella yelled for me to fetch towels from the bathroom, and I did, and she applied direct pressure to the places where blood seeped out. But the big man pushed off her hands, mumbling something in Arabic.
“Get Inspector Borkowski—hurry!”
Tanella tossed me her penlight, which was smeared red, and turned back to Abdu’l. She spoke Arabic to him, and he let her staunch the wound.
I raced into the dark hall, guided by the baby light.
By the time I’d led the Inspector back to Abdu’l, the big Arab lay still in a puddle of red. Tanella was sobbing, sitting on the floor against the wall, holding out hands that dripped with blood. When Sergeant Springer helped her up, both hands left red prints on his dark arms. She collapsed against his chest, and he lifted her up as easily as the wind lifts a dandelion and carried her into the hallway. I stumbled after them.
Borkowski came out of the dead man’s room, trembling.
“Sergeant, take these kids down to the restaurant and handcuff them to a chair!”
Dr. Blake really got angry when he saw dried blood on his daughter. First he thought she’d been hurt, then he started yelling at Borkowski’s men for letting us slip away. Then he yelled at Tanella. He calmed down and asked Sergeant Springer to let her go into the kitchen and wash up.
I wandered to the cold fireplace and sat on the floor bricks. You gotta believe me. Rotten as I felt, I felt worse about Tanella. I hated to see her hurting like this. It was all my fault. I should have stayed with Abdu’l while she ran for help. But thinking about it wrenched my stomach into knots.