“That’s interesting, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Where are you going now? Bongo Groove?”
“It’s the closest, isn’t it?”
“It is. And it’s a good place to start. They spent a lot of time there. When you’re finished there, just keep going north on Beach Road and you’ll see all those places on your list. Some of them have changed name and ownership in the last five years, but some of the same people still work there.”
Eulalie thanked her and went back outside.
Bongo Groove was two doors up from Hitch-a-Ride. It had changed its look over the years but retained a Caribbean theme. Eulalie walked in to the smell of coconut oil and the sound of steel-pan music. She went up to the bar and asked for Rico.
“Wait here,” said the woman on duty. She disappeared into the back. Eulalie leaned against the bar counter and looked around. The place was filling up slowly. She glanced at a menu. There weren’t many options for lunch – just bar snacks and some generic light meals. This place was all about the rum cocktails, the beer, and the live music that got going later in the afternoon.
“Help you?”
She turned to see a man with a bleached blonde buzz cut and tattooed biceps watching her with sleepy eyes.
“Are you Rico?”
“That’s what they tell me.”
She passed him her card. While he studied it, she explained what she wanted.
“I’m sure you remember this case. It was all over the media.”
She handed him a print-out from an article in the Daily Mail. It featured a full-color photograph of Jessica Manilow standing with Damien Hodge, Pete Costello, and Chuck Weston. They were all smiling and facing the camera, making it an excellent photo for identification purposes.
“Oh, sure. I remember that. I made fifty bucks telling some TV station about how those kids used to come in here.”
“Yes, exactly,” said Eulalie. “I believe they came in here a lot. They might even have met each other here. I want to know what you can remember about their relationship – about the interaction between the four of them. I believe you were the person who served them most often.”
Rico put his pale head back and laughed until Eulalie could count every filling in his mouth.
“That’s the thing, babe,” he said at last. “I fooled that reporter back then, and if you were offering me money I’d fool you too. Are you offering me money?”
“That’s a firm no.”
“I didn’t really remember those kids. Do you know how much blow I was doing five years ago? I could barely remember my own name. But fifty bucks was fifty bucks, so I told those reporters what they wanted to hear. I sang the sad song about a beautiful young corn-fed girl cut down in the prime of her life. I talked about what fun they had together. Hell, I probably made up stuff they said to each other. I don’t even remember. All I remember is that I lied for twenty minutes straight and got fifty bucks at the end of it. Which promptly went up my nose too.”
“You really don’t remember them at all, or anything about them?”
“Not a damn thing. You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers, doll-face.”
“What about someone else who worked here?”
He shrugged. “I’m the only one left from those days.”
Eulalie stood up to go. “Thanks for your time anyway.”
“Just remember,” he shouted after her. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV!”
She left the bar feeling irritated. It was one thing to strike out during an investigation. That was something she budgeted for and accepted when it happened. It was another to find out that the person you had been counting on to be your star witness turned out to have been lying all along. And when he mocked you for having believed his story, that just rubbed salt in the wound.
She went next door to the Katz Pyjamas where she asked for Francine.
“That’s me,” said the fortyish woman behind the bar. She made a careful study of Eulalie’s business card and expressed herself willing to help.
“Lenny!” She called to a man who was cleaning glasses. “I’m taking five. Going to help this private investigator here.”
Lenny nodded. “That’s Angel De la Cour’s granddaughter, Fran. Make sure you treat her right.”
A familiar look of respect came over Francine’s face.
“Angel’s granddaughter? Really?”
“Really.”
“I remember you as a little girl doing your homework at the bar when Angel’s Place had just opened.”
“I got a lot done at that bar. I still do.”
“So, what can I do for you?”
Eulalie showed her the photograph from the Daily Mail. “I believe these four used to come in here before the girl disappeared. I was wondering if you remember anything about how they were with each other. I’m interested in their relationship as a foursome - that kind of thing.”
Francine stared at the photograph. It wasn’t hard to read the sadness in her eyes.
“Terrible thing. Really terrible. Yes, they used to come in here. They spent just about every night bar-hopping. A lot of the spring breakers still do that. If they don’t head over to Logan Cay for the night, they go from bar to bar up and down Beach Road, sometimes coming in here more than once. Most of us offer live music in the evenings, and we all have signature cocktails that they like coming back for. These four.” She tapped the photograph. “They came in at least once a night that whole week before she disappeared. I served them, oh, plenty of times. And I pay attention, you know? So, what do you want to know about them?”
“Was there any tension in the group? They were supposed to be just friends, but I’m wondering if some of them were more friendly than the others. Did you ever get the sense that the real dynamics of their relationship were different from the official ones?”
“It’s funny you should say that. I’ve often thought about how they were with each other. One thing I noticed was that one of the boys got teased a lot. He was a local boy. Dark hair. Quite tall and goofy. The other two boys gave him a hard time. They were always mocking the way he talked or walked or whatever. Trying to get a laugh out of the girl, see? And sometimes it worked, and I felt a bit sorry for that goofy kid. But that’s how it goes, right? Life isn’t fair.”
“And what about the girl? Did you buy the official story that she was just good friends with all of them? Did it seem to you as though she might have liked one of them more than the others?”
“Not really. She had an easy manner about her. She was friendly to all of them. I didn’t see any favoritism.”
“And from the boys’ side? Did it seem like one of them had a crush on her?”
Francine laughed. “They all had a crush on her. It was as plain as the nose on your face. But none of them ever did anything about it. At least not that I saw.”
“And what about the day they disappeared? Did they come in here?”
“They sure did. I remember the police asked me about that specifically. I told them the same thing as I’m telling you now. They came in here, same as normal, at about two o’clock, and then again at around eight. I remember because our musicians had just started their second set and the kids were whooping it up. They really loved that band. I couldn’t believe those kids were still going strong after the way they’d been drinking that afternoon. That was the main difference between that last night and all the other night. They’d been drinking more heavily than usual. I heard afterwards that they’d had a nap on the beach in between, and that made sense. There was no way they could have kept going the way they were.”
“Why do you think they were drinking so hard?”
“I got the impression they were egging each other on to do something. Afterwards, I figured it must have been to steal the boat and go out to Monk’s Cay.”
“What about the girl? Was she drinking as hard as the rest of them?”
“I wouldn’t say so, no. She was a cautious one.
The classic sensible girl. She paced herself the way we always advise kids to do, but they never listen.”
“Is there anything else you remember from that day?”
“I don’t think there is. I’m real glad you’re opening it all up again. It never felt right to me that they didn’t find out what happened to that girl. Seems to me it’s not as easy as all that to make a whole human being disappear. Not even by accident. I wish something I told you might help you find out the truth, but I doubt it.”
Eulalie stood up and thanked her. “You never know what might turn out to be helpful. You’ve given me a much better idea of their last day together.”
“All the best to your grandmother,” called Lenny as she walked out onto the street.
“I’ll tell her, Lenny, thanks.”
Eulalie walked up Beach Road to the next bar on her list. It was called Mulligan’s. It was an Irish-themed bar that was perennially popular with college students. The original Mulligan who founded it had moved back to Ireland years earlier, leaving it to the management of a man called Mahoney. Eulalie knew nothing about him except that he was an efficient manager with a reputation for being a bully.
When she asked for him by name, one of the green-clad waiters went to fetch him.
Mulligan’s was busier than either of the previous two bars. It offered a full lunch menu and had a family-friendly vibe. Most of the tables were occupied by tourists with young children.
Amos Mahoney came through from the back, wiping his hands on a napkin.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mulligan. My name is Eulalie Park and I …”
“I know who you are. What I don’t know is what you’re doing here.”
She handed over her card and the photograph. “I’ve been hired by a client to look into the disappearance of Jessica Manilow. I believe she came in here on the night she disappeared?”
A smile transformed Amos Mahoney’s sullen face.
“It’s about damn time. I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me about that. I know why that girl died. It was all her own fault.”
Chapter 14
“Can we sit for a moment?” asked Eulalie.
“Sure.” They sat down at a small booth. Mahoney indicated to the bartender to bring him a beer. “Anything for you?”
“No, thanks. I still have a long day ahead of me.”
“Your loss.” He looked at the article Eulalie had turned to face him. He tapped Jessica’s face with a large forefinger. “See? See what I mean? That right there – that’s not normal.”
Eulalie looked at the photograph of the four smiling students and tried to work out what he was seeing.
“What’s not normal?”
“One man and one woman. That’s what it says in the Bible. Not three men and one woman.”
“They weren’t getting married, Mr. Mahoney. They were just four friends hanging out during spring break.”
“That’s also unnatural.” He took a long pull of the beer that had been put in front of him. “It says in the Bible that a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave himself only to one woman, and it says that an adulteress is an abomination in the sight of the Lord.”
“Again, Mr. Mahoney, no one was married or getting married. They were just friends.”
“I saw the way she looked at them. Smiling and flirting with her eyes. She was no innocent, that girl. You probably think I’m some crazy Bible-thumper who can’t see what’s in front of his own nose, but you’d be wrong. There were things going on that others didn’t see. But I saw, because I was watching.”
There was another pause as he downed a third of his beer in two long swallows. Eulalie kept an expression of polite interest on her face. Just because someone was crazy, it didn’t mean they couldn’t have valuable information to give. She had learned that lesson early on in her career.
“What about the boys?” she asked. “Do you think they were interested in her in more than just a platonic way?”
“You listen to me, young lady.” He waved his forefinger in her face. “There’s no such thing as a platonic relationship between men and women. That’s just a lie set about by the devil to lure the ungodly into fornication. There’s no such thing, I tell you. Not unless those people have unnatural leanings.”
“So, you didn’t specifically see anything about these kids that made you think there was an attraction between any of them?”
“Hold your horses, young lady. I didn’t say that, did I? You think I’m just some old guy spouting Bible verses. The righteous shall be mocked. It says so right there in the good book.”
Eulalie waited for him to continue.
“I saw the signs. Oh yes, I saw them alright. It was the American boy she was sweet on. Instead of choosing herself an island boy as patriotism demands, she went after the American kid.”
“She was American herself, Mr. Mahoney. Why should patriotism demand that she choose an island boy?”
“Doesn’t matter. She should prefer an island boy anyway.”
“You got the impression that she liked the American, Chuck Weston?”
“I’ve got eyes, don’t I? I saw what I saw.”
“And on that last day before she disappeared – was there any particular tension between the four of them?”
“There must have been, mustn’t there? What with her playing fast and loose with the young lad’s emotions like that.”
“But not that you actually saw?”
“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “Not that I actually saw. But it stands to reason. When girls don’t take care of the signals they’re sending out to boys, that’s when trouble happens. You’ve only got yourself to thank when something goes wrong, like it did for that Manilow girl. It’s her own fault she ended up dead.”
“Is that what you think happened? You think she’s dead?”
He finished off his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else?”
Eulalie left Mulligan’s and kept going to the other three bars on her list – the Bella Napoli, the Beach Shack, and Ruby’s. None of them added anything of significance. A waitress at Bella Napoli remembered thinking that the platonic arrangement between the students wouldn’t last long. She got the impression that the boys were vying for Jessica’s attention.
A bartender at Ruby’s commented that the American boy seemed to be in worse shape than the other three. He had been finishing his beers faster and seemed to be stumbling and slurring his words.
Eulalie made notes of everything she had learned and found that it was late afternoon by the time she had finished her bar crawl. She was looking forward to an early night, preferably undisturbed by yowling cats. She had an early start the next morning and wanted to be alert and awake during the parade. She felt a personal responsibility for seeing that everything went smoothly. It would be a feather in Chief Macgregor’s cap if the day went well.
There was nothing like a good, dreamless night’s sleep to set you up for the day.
That’s what Eulalie thought as she woke up the next morning. She stretched and yawned under the covers. She hadn’t looked at her alarm clock – hadn’t opened her eyes yet – but she knew it was nearly time to get up. The quality of light filtering through her eyelids told her it was approaching six.
She opened her eyes. And gasped.
There was a face looking back at her. A large, black face with sapphire blue eyes and sweeping whiskers.
As she stared at it, the creature leapt off her bed and disappeared out the window.
Eulalie got up and slammed the window shut.
“The cheek of it.” She was almost speechless with indignation. “Coming right into my room like that.”
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that the cat had been there for most of the night. She had a strong sense of not having been alone.
“Unbelievable.”
Eulalie showered and dressed for the day in the outfit she used for rock climbing and hiking. It was made from a te
chnical fabric that contoured itself to her body and allowed total freedom of movement with no danger of getting hooked on anything. The fabric repelled water and kept sweat away from the body.
She tied her hair into the nape of her neck in a low bun. She pulled on Vibram rock-climbing shoes and fastened the hip holster with her Smith & Wesson Shield 9mm in it around her waist.
By six-forty-five, she was at City hall with a cup of café au lait waiting for the seven o’clock briefing.
Chief Macgregor took them through the order of events and reminded everyone of their positions and duties.
Before the festivities began, the security personnel were encouraged to make themselves known to the stallholders and to remind them of the hotline number to call if there were any trouble.
Eulalie walked up and down Lafayette Boulevard with Chief Macgregor, stopping at each stall to exchange a word with the vendors. Most seemed to be in good spirits and looking forward to the day.
“Look, there are the Eggers,” said Eulalie. “We should go and say hello.”
They went up to the virtual reality stand sponsored by her former client, Mark Egger. He had hired her to investigate the death of his late wife, Emma. For a man who had lost two wives in the space of eighteen months, Mark Egger seemed remarkably cheerful.
“Chief Macgregor and Ms. Park!” He hailed them as they approached his stand. “Good to see you both. I hope you’ll find a minute to come and try out our virtual reality gadgets. They are quite amazing. My nephew here is going crazy for them. Right, Otto?”
The boy looked up from his games console and shrugged.
“You must allow me to introduce you to my fiancée, Sarah. Show them your ring, honey.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Zane,” said Eulalie. “That’s a beautiful ring. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”
The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries Page 55