Mango Motel

by Bill H Myers

  She looked around the motorhome and said, “If you're ready to leave, we should go. I'll drive Raif's car and you can follow me to the park.”

  Twelve minutes later, after leaving Saint Augustine and crossing the Bridge of Lions to A1A south, we took a left onto Anastasia State Park road and followed it to the check-in station. I parked the motorhome in the RV lot and went inside to see about a site. I told the ranger behind the counter that Erin had just called, and they were holding a site for us.

  I gave him my name, showed my Florida driver's license and the RV's plate number. He entered the details into his computer, told me how much it would be, and I paid using a credit card. He ran it through his machine and had me sign the charge ticket. Then he gave me a receipt and a bright yellow card with our site number written on it, along with the date we would be leaving.

  Before I left the office, he explained the park rules. They were the same as the other Florida state parks where I'd camped. After he asked if I had any questions, he gave me a park map with the route to our site highlighted in yellow.

  I thanked him for his assistance and went back out to the RV. Erin had parked Raif's car nearby, and I went over to show her where we would be staying. She looked at the map and said, “Let me go first, it'll be easier that way.”

  I knew what she was saying. It would be easier for her to find the site in a car than it would be for me in the motorhome, mainly because I was taller, wider, and had to go slower. I had to watch for low-hanging branches, narrow turns, and hidden drives.

  She took off, and I followed, trying my best to keep up. After a series of turns taking us down narrow shell-covered roads with thick tropical foliage on both sides, we reached our site. Number one hundred seven, in the Coquina campground.

  The site, like all that we had passed, was narrow and paved only in crushed shell. But it looked fairly level and was far enough away from Shady Haven that we wouldn't have to worry about the guys in black finding us.

  After three tries, I finally got the motorhome backed into the narrow site, close enough to the power pole with enough space on each side to run the slide rooms out without hitting anything.

  The site was deep enough for Erin to park Raif's car in front of the RV without sticking out onto the road. After she had it parked, she came over to me and said, “It took you three tries to get it parked. I thought you being a full-time RV’er, you'd be better at parking it.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I thought I'd be better at it too. But on these narrow park roads with tight turns, you can't just blindly back into a site. You have to watch out for low-hanging branches, picnic tables and the power pole.

  “So yeah, sometimes it takes me three tries to get into a site. Next time I'll let you do it. See how many tries it takes you.”

  Erin was smiling when she said, “It's a deal. I'll do it next time.”

  She took a deep breath and asked, “Now that we're here, what's next?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Okay, we know that the two guys looking for Waldo think he's still in Saint Augustine. If they’d found him, they probably wouldn’t have tossed his trailer a few hours ago.”

  We were back inside the motorhome. After getting it parked, I hooked up to shore power, and with Erin holding Bob, I ran out the three slide rooms. This would give us enough room to move around without bumping into each other.

  With the slides out and the power on, we sat at the kitchen table and listed the things we knew for sure about Waldo's whereabouts.

  The list wasn't long. Just two items so far and we weren't really sure about those two.

  “Can't you call his mother? Ask her if he's still up here? If she says he is, ask if she knows where we can find him?”

  It was a good question. One that would have been easy to answer if I had his mother's phone number. But I didn't. My only contact was Marissa Chesnokov and she had asked me to be careful when I called her. She didn't want her husband to know about the search.

  I did have the number of her burner phone, and being nearly midday, I figured maybe she would answer if I called.

  After five rings, she picked up. “Walker, do you have good news for me?”

  I didn't, but I didn't have bad news either. We thought Waldo was still alive, we just didn't know where.

  “We haven't found him yet, but the two guys Mad Dog sent up here looking for him haven't found him either.

  “He didn't buy the taco truck and he's moved from the address you sent me. So we need your help.”

  I paused, long enough for her to ask, “You said 'we'. I thought we agreed you were going to do this alone. Who's helping you?”

  I looked over at Erin and smiled. I couldn't help it, she made me feel good. I answered Marissa's question.

  “The owner of the taco shop. She's helping me. She's the last one that spoke to Waldo and she knows more about Saint Augustine than I do. I haven't told her about you. But I don't think there'll be a problem.”

  I waited to hear what Marissa would say, expecting it wouldn't be anything good. But I was wrong. Instead of scolding me, she asked, “It's a woman that's helping you? Let me guess, she's about your age? And pretty? And hopefully single?”

  I nodded, even though she couldn't see me nod, and said, “Yes, she's a woman and, yes, she's pretty. And smart and she's with me right now. Would you like to talk to her?”

  “No Walker, I don't need to talk to her. I trust your instincts on this. If you say she's helping you, that's all I need to know. But don't tell her who you're working for, understood?”

  Again I nodded, a habit I needed to break, at least while on the phone. “Don't worry, we're being discreet. But like I said, we've run into a dead end and need your help. We need you to call Waldo's mother and ask if she's heard from him lately. If she has, try to find out if he's still in Saint Augustine. If he's still here, it would help if we knew where he was staying. If he has a new phone number, get it. We'll want to call him.”

  Marissa said she'd try and would text me with whatever she found out about Waldo's new digs.

  After I ended the call, Erin asked, “Was that Waldo's mother?”

  I shook my head. “No, a close friend of hers. She said she'd speak to his mother and text us with anything new.”

  Erin grinned. “So who's this woman you told her about? You said she was pretty and smart. Anyone I know?”

  I smiled and said, “I don't know if you know her or not, but I'll introduce you next time I see her. But right now, we need to leave. There's something I need to do.”

  Erin didn't ask why or where we were going. She just picked up the car keys and said, “I'm driving.”

  That was fine with me. I didn't know Saint Augustine well, and she did. Earlier, I'd gotten a text from CVS telling me my prescription was ready for pick-up at the store on A1A South. According to Google Maps, it was a short drive from the park.

  After passing by the ranger station on our way out, Erin asked, “Where are we going? I need to know which way to turn when we get to the highway.”

  “Turn left, we're going to CVS.”

  She nodded, and when we reached A1A, she turned left and headed south. Three minutes later, we pulled into the CVS parking lot. I went inside, picked up my prescription and a bottle of water and came back out, carrying a white CVS bag with drug information stapled to it. There was no way Erin didn't see what I was carrying.

  When I got back into the car, she nodded toward the bag and asked, “Are you contagious? Anything I need to worry about?”

  I shook my head. “No, the pills are for my eyes. I had a concussion and my doctor said to take one of these every day. My prescription ran out and I needed it refilled. That's why we're here.”

  I pulled the bottle out of the bag, screwed off the top, and shook out a single pill into my open palm. It was small but had proven to be effective. I put it in my mouth, chased it down with a swig of water, and put the bottle back in the bag.

  When I was done, Erin asked,
“All better now?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  We were still sitting in the parking lot of CVS. The air conditioner in Raif's car had no problem keeping it cool inside, even on the low fan setting. Maybe a beefed up AC was one of the other standard features on the police interceptor. It made sense that it would be, police spend a lot of time sitting in a car and a good air conditioner, especially in Florida, was a must-have.

  I tapped the dash with my right hand and said, “I like this car. I want one. Think Raif could help me get one like it?”

  Erin nodded. “He could if you really wanted one, but after a few days riding around in this one, you might change your mind.

  She paused, then asked, “You getting hungry?”

  “Yeah, what do you have in mind?”

  “Burritos. From Benito's. They're just down the road. Thought maybe we ought to stop in and talk to Benito. Let him know about the two guys looking for Waldo. About how they might stop by the Taco Palace asking about him.”

  She was right. We probably needed to let the new owner of the taco truck know about the guys looking for Waldo. His people working there wouldn't know who Waldo was or how to find him. But they might give them Erin's contact info. That wouldn't be good.

  Erin pulled out of the CVS and, six minutes later, we parked in front of a brightly colored building that looked like it had once been a gas station. The building itself was clean, the roof was new, the signage on the outside professionally done, and it looked like a safe place to eat burritos and tacos.

  Erin led the way and we were soon inside placing our orders. We both ordered the same thing. Tijuana Cart Tacos. Three for six-fifty. She ordered an orange mango drink to go with hers, and I stuck with bottled water.

  While we waited for our food, Erin went to the small office in the back and spoke with Benito. A few minutes later, she came back to my table and gave me a thumbs up. The meeting had gone well.

  The tacos were good, in fact, the best I'd ever had, but I didn't tell Erin that. The tacos she had been making were also good. Not quite as good as Benito's but still better than what you get at most places.

  After we finished eating, she asked the same question she'd asked back in the RV. “What do we do next?”

  I thought before I answered, and the best I could come up with was, “We go back to the RV and try to figure this out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  On the way back to the motorhome, I sat in the passenger seat and watched Erin and listened to her voice as she drove. That's when I decided that maybe she was right about Raif's car. It wasn't the car that I liked so much it was riding around in it with her.

  There was no way I was going to share this thought, so I just admired the view and kept my mouth shut.

  When we got back to the motorhome, Bob was waiting for us at the door. I went in first, and he ran over to greet me. He rubbed up against my ankle, but as soon as he saw Erin behind me, he chirped and ran over to her.

  Seeing Bob heading her way, she bent over and called his name. “Bob, you're such a good-looking kitty. I need one just like you.”

  I don't know how much he understood, but his ears perked up when he heard her say his name. From then on, he was her shadow. He stayed at her feet and followed her as she walked to the back bedroom. There, she kicked off her shoes and sat down on the bed. Bob sat beside her.

  I was still up front when she called out, “Walker, Bob and I have decided to take a little nap. You should join us.”

  We had just eaten lunch and a nap sounded like a good idea. Especially with Erin lying beside me. I didn't hesitate. I went back and joined them on the bed.

  The low hum of the overhead fan along with the muted sounds of traffic out on A1A was all that it took for me to doze off.

  Sometime later, I woke to Bob's claws digging into my chest. He was snuggled in between me and Erin and was making donuts, pushing his feet in and out, using me as his backboard. His deep purring told me he was a very contented kitty.

  I needed to get up and pee but didn't want to disturb either Bob or Erin, so I just lay there, trying my best not to think about waterfalls and fire hydrants. But it didn't work. I needed to get up and take the short walk to the bathroom.

  When I rolled over to get out of bed, Erin reached out and touched my shoulder. “Me first. It'll just take a minute.” Then she got up and went to the bathroom.

  Four minutes later, when she returned, I didn't have time to make small talk. I needed to pee, and I'd almost waited too long. I quickly got up out of bed, headed to the bathroom and took care of business.

  After washing up, I went back to the bed, planning on resuming my nap with Erin at my side. But it wasn't to be. Both she and Bob were gone. Not wanting to nap alone, I headed up front and found them both on the couch. Bob was in Erin's lap, and she was gently stroking his back.

  When she saw me, she said, “Bob and I decided it was time to get up. Glad to see you are joining us.”

  She patted the couch and said, “Come, sit by me.”

  After I'd sat, she said, “You know, I don't really need to find Waldo. I'd like to get my money back, but I don't want you or Raif to get hurt. So if you decide you don't want to look for him anymore, that's fine by me.

  “But if you want to keep looking, that works for me too. We just have to be careful. And we need something to go on. Something that'll point us in the right direction.”

  I nodded. “You're right. If we're going to keep looking for him, we need a lead. But if it gets dangerous and you decide to bail, I'll understand. I don't want you to get hurt. I'm not trying to get rid of you. In fact, I kind of like having you around. You know all the best places to eat.”

  She smiled and said, “Okay, it's settled. We'll keep looking for him. Where do we start?”

  Before I could answer, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I clicked accept and read the message. It said, “W still in SA. Told M he was getting in on the ground floor. Didn't say what. Will text with more if I get it.”

  I read the message out loud to Erin. She listened and said, “Read it again. This time, slower.”

  I reread it, and Erin stopped me after the first word. She said, “W obviously means Waldo. Continue.”

  As I read the rest of the message, she nodded as she heard each word. When I got to “M”, she said, “That probably means his mother. Continue.”

  I read the rest without being interrupted. When I was finished, Erin said, “So, it sounds like he called his mother and told her he's still in Saint Augustine. He thinks he's getting in on the ground floor of something. But we don't know what.

  “All we need to do is figure out what he's talking about. You have any thoughts on that?”

  I did.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “So you were the last person we know who spent any time talking with Waldo. You were with him for two days showing him how to run the Taco Palace.

  “You couldn't have been busy serving customers all the time, and when it was slow, you two must have talked about things other than food.

  “What do you remember?”

  Erin thought for a moment, then said, “He told me he wanted to tour the old fort downtown, Castillo de San Marcos.

  “He also said he wanted to visit the Pirate Museum. It's across the street from the fort.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them and said, “The Fountain of Youth. He wanted to visit the Fountain of Youth. Said he wanted to drink the water.

  “That's all I remember. The fort, the museum, and the fountain. The same places most tourists want to see.”

  “Okay. So, we know he's interested in tourist attractions. Maybe that's the kind of business he thinks he's getting in on the ground floor of. Or maybe, like every new visitor to Saint Augustine, he wants to see the attractions.

  “There has to be more than that. Did he talk about his car or his hobbies or favorite songs or movies?”

  Erin frowned then said, “He wasn
't much of a talker. He grunted a lot. And he complained about the heat. Said it was hot in the taco truck. Said that when he bought it, the first thing he'd do was add air conditioning.”

  I nodded. “What else do you remember? What about his car? Did you see what he was driving?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I saw it. An old Camry. Faded silver with paint peeling off the hood and roof. It looked like it had been through a hail storm. Had lots of golf ball-sized dents.

  “He said he didn't care too much about cars. As long as it got him where he wanted to go, he would drive anything.

  “Video games. That's what he mostly talked about. And when he did, I tuned him out. I didn't have time to play games and wasn't interested in what he was saying about them.

  “I do remember him telling me about his computer setup. How it had lots of rams and gigs and was super-fast. He said as soon as he moved into a place with internet, he would be setting it up.”

  She paused, and I said, “Erin, you're doing good. Starting to remember the little details. Any of those could be important. What else did you talk about?”

  She rubbed her chin. “He asked me what I was going to do after I sold the business. He seemed really interested in my answer.”

  She waited for me to ask the question she knew I was going to. “So what did you tell him? What were you planning to do after you sold him the truck?”

  She shook her head and said, “Up until he asked, I hadn't really thought about it. I was too busy keeping the business open to worry about what I was going to do next. But I think I told him I wanted to own something like Shady Haven. A place where people paid you to park.

  “He wanted to know more, so I told him that Shady Haven had over a hundred trailer and RV sites and most rented for seven hundred a month. I remember him saying that it didn't seem too profitable. Just making seven thousand a month renting trailer sites.

  “That's when I realized he wasn't too good at math. A hundred sites times seven hundred would be seventy thousand a month, not seven thousand. I didn't bother to correct his mistake. But I think he finally figured it out because later on he said, ‘I guess something like that could work. Not much labor involved. And people pay you to sit in an office and collect rent. Sounds good to me.’”