by Wiley Brooks
Long Beach formed a large crescent as it arcs into the island and then out again. At each end were magnificent rock outcroppings that towered above the water. The Majestic Turtle occupied a prime space at the middle of the crescent. Nestled among the trees overlooking the sea, eight bungalows fanned around a central covered dining area and kitchen.
The owner, Umar, a Malaysian man in his thirties, and Umar’s wife, Laila, plus their two children, lived in two-room cabin behind the semi-circle of bungalows. Two generators sat behind that cabin to meet their simple power needs.
A small, fairly quiet one ran round the clock to power the refrigerator, pump and dining area lights at night. The second one ran at Umar’s whim in the evenings for the bungalows. He cranked it up at dusk. When he turned it off was another thing. Some nights he would shut it down by nine, others around ten and on rare occasions eleven. Killing the power came with no warning to the guests. One minute they might be reading a book and an instant later the generator went quiet and the lights would flicker out. Guests who were at an exciting part of their books either finished by flashlight or candle.
Joey and Jess got bungalow Number 6. There was nothing fancy about it, but even from the outside it gave Jess a cozy feeling. She liked it immediately.
All the bungalows were raised well off the ground to accommodate the water that rushed past during the rainy season and the occasional typhoon. Number 6 was nestled among shade trees that keep it cooler during the heat of the afternoon.
The cabin was unpainted inside and out. It measured about eight feet square with a small room at the back for a toilet and shower. A mosquito net covered the platform bed, but mosquitos didn’t seem to be a problem most of the time. A single light bulb with a pull-string switch hung in the center of the room under the tightly thatched roof.
Jess was taken by the hut’s front porch. About three feet wide and the width of the cabin itself, it offered two wooden chairs with padded seats that were akin to Adirondack chairs. She plopped into one, threw her legs up on the wooden rail and gazed out at the sea.
“This works for me,” she said.
Mason tried to go back to sleep, but since he wanted to take the first ferry anyway, gave up. He took a shower and shaved. As he stood there looking into the mirror, the face he saw staring back looked haggard and pale. No one would believe he was just thirty-seven years old.
The nights of waking up in terror were taking a toll on him. Dark bags had formed under his eyes and he looked puffy. He looked more closely at his eyes. They were dull and streaked with red. Old man’s eyes, he thought to himself. Then a more apt description came to mind: Jack Daniels eyes.
He was at the jetty before the first ferry run of the day at eight o’clock. The ferry made just two roundtrips a day, at eight, then at noon. He had expected it to be packed, but fewer than half of the fifteen seats were taken. The boat, though, was loaded with supplies for the islands.
The crossing on the flat, tranquil sea took about ninety minutes. He chatted briefly with the captain, mostly to ask if he’d seen a red-haired American woman in the past day. No, he hadn’t. The captain said the sea can turn rough at times, so he’s not always paying attention to the passengers. In fact, the ferries completely shut down service during the rainy season because the crossing is just too dangerous.
The ferry made two stops. First was the jetty at Perhentian Kecil, the smaller island, Mason got off at the second stop, the jetty on the big island of Perhentian Besar. There were no actual hotels on either of the Perhentians. He quickly learned that there were only a handful of very rustic places to stay on both the islands. He spent the next few hours trudging from one group of bungalows to the next asking if anyone had seen an American woman in her early thirties with red hair. No one had. People remember red hair, so he felt confident by mid-afternoon that he could move to Perhentian Kecil, the smaller island.
He took a boat for the short ride from the Besar jetty to the one at Kecil and walked into the village. He was in luck. He asked a waiter standing outside the village’s sole restaurant and the man said that a red-headed American woman and a man had gotten off the second ferry just a couple hours earlier.
“You know where they are headin’?”
“Only two places,” the waiter responded.
“Is that the trail up ahead?” Mason asked.
“You take boat. Just two ringgit.”
Mason thanked the man and walked back down to the beach, secured a boat and was soon pulling ashore at Long Beach. The sign in front of him said Majestic Turtle. He hefted his backpack and strode up toward a small open-air restaurant with six simple tables. He saw her red hair before he was even half-way there.
Mason plopped down at a table near Jessica and Joey. Umar approached him to take his order.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Mason said. “I’m lookin’ for a place to stay. You got a cabin I can take?”
Umar gave him the specifics for bungalow Number 4 and asked if he would like to see it. Mason said it wasn’t necessary. He’d take it. He then ordered lunch and tried to tune in to Joey and Jessica’s conversation.
From his seat, Mason could watch them without appearing to stare. He was taken by how Joey doted on her. If it’s an act, Mason thought, it’s Oscar worthy. He’s gentle. He speaks softly. He smiles and his eyes light up. This guy was good. If he didn’t know better, Mason would swear they were a couple in love, just like the giggling girl said at the strawberry farm.
Now that’s an interesting thought, Mason mused. Could Joey have fallen in love with her? If he did love her, would he kill her? Maybe a better question isn’t would he kill her, but could he? If he had fallen in love, how did it change his big plan? Then again, Mason was pretty sure that the cold-blooded killer in Joey wasn’t capable of love when lots of money was on the line.
Mason wondered how Jessica truly felt about Joey? If first impressions meant anything, the woman had feelings for him, too. At the very least, she greatly enjoyed his company. You could see it in her body language, especially when they got up to leave and walked back to their cabin. She was draped around him. They looked like a couple of high-school sweethearts.
What, if anything, did it all mean to what Mason should do? What exactly was his next play now that he had caught up with them? His promise to Bob that they would decide together what to do with Joey was less practical now that Jessica was in the picture. From his last conversation with Bob, he knew what his client would want: to kill the sonofabitch. There was even a chance that Bob was already on his way to the island to do it himself.
Then there was Bo, his old friend and Penang homicide detective. Did he need to give Bo a chance to weigh in? That could pose a problem. What if Bo insisted that he come to Perhentian Kecil, arrest Joey and take him back to stand trial? That would take the decision out of his hands.
Worse, it would cause a diplomatic incident. Seven young, innocent American girls savagely murdered. Relations between the US and Malaysia already were strained. He might be able to convince Bo that everything about the case should end on Perhentian Kecil. That would make Bob happy.
Here’s something Mason knew with absolute certainty: Fitz would never want to see Joey stand trial for murdering seven young American girls. Diplomatically, it might be a death blow for US-Malaysia relations. But even more significant, Mason realized, was that heads would roll at State. How do seven young American women all suffer the same brutal death in the same country in a relatively short period of time and no one notice? Fitz, a career State Department man and long-time friend, would certainly be among the first to go. Mason wasn’t willing to sacrifice his friend if there were another way.
It weighed on him, but he knew what he had to do. He would not alert Bo and there just wasn’t time to loop in Bob, as he had promised to do. He wished he had told Bob to come over when he called him from Kuala Besut instead of arguing for him to stay in Tampa. Well, he didn’t and there was nothing he could do about it now. Bob might come
anyway. If not, Bob might be pissed at him for taking Joey out on his own, but the bottom line would be that the asshole who murdered Bob’s daughter would get what was coming to him. Bob would get over it.
Yes, he would just have to do it himself. And here on the island.
It would be easy if not for one big problem: Jessica.
He had to get her out of harm’s way. That would be tough. His guess was that Joey and Jessica were almost never apart. As he thought through options, he realized it wouldn’t be enough to simply get her out of the way. She needed to know why. Otherwise, she’d run to the authorities to say that this American guy killed her boyfriend. One thing would lead to another and the whole sordid tale would come out.
No, he had to find a way to talk with her and hope her brain would put the pieces together for her. She was smart enough. But was it already too late for reason? Had she crossed the bridge? Did she love him?
Mason realized that he didn’t really have a choice. He had to find a way to talk with her. To lay it all out there and hope the scientist in her who lived in a world of facts would overcome her inner poet. It was a risk, but he had to do it.
How would she react? That was a no-brainer. Without knowing the full story about Joey, she’d be devastated and furious at the same time. He needed enough time to tell it all to her all at once. He was counting on her being able to separate her feelings from the facts. That’s a tall order. Something, though, told him she could do it.
The second big concern is that she would confront Joey with it herself. He’d tell her not to, of course. Still, almost anyone would want to hear the story from the person he or she trusted. She might kid herself into thinking she could tell if he were lying. Mason knew, though, that people who have been duped hear and believe what they want to hear and believe. And Joey could make it easy for her. Psychopaths are great liars.
Mason knew he had to be convincing. He had to find the words to win her over. But would she remain silent after Joey was, well, put down? In America, everyone is entitled to a fair trial. For what was about to happen, Mason would be the arresting officer, the prosecutor, the judge and ultimately the executioner. And it was likely to give new meaning to the saying that justice is swift. Confrontation to execution might take but seconds. How would she handle that?
What could he possibly say to her to win her over? Damn! This just might be the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do.
Win her over. He considered those words. A dispassionate third party would easily be swayed by the evidence. But Jessica wasn’t a dispassionate third party. She appeared to genuinely care for Joey. Was it love? Hmmm, Mason pondered that question again.
Did she love him? She had known him for less than two weeks. She was old enough to be cautious with her heart. She was also less than a year out from her husband’s death. She might be adventurous, but, Mason reasoned, she wasn’t likely to have allowed herself to be anything more than infatuated with Joey. No, she didn’t love him.
Not yet anyway.
And Jessica was smart. In fact, incredibly smart. That was good, though smart people do stupid things all the time. Her training as a highly specialized nurse was to quickly assess facts regardless of how grim they might be, then figure out what she needed to do and do it. These would be the grimmest facts she had ever faced. But her ability to distance herself from the emotions of a situation and focus on the facts would bode well. That, he thought, might be the most important thing about her.
He should find a time when she was alone and tell her the entire truth about Joey. Then, when she would most likely want to run away, he would have to convince her to stay, to act as if nothing had changed. If she tried to flee, Joey might kill her. No loose ends.
He wasn’t sure he could pull it off. He knew, though, he had to try.
Mason spent the afternoon on his porch, two bungalows away from Joey and Jessica. She sat part of her time on her porch, too, reading a paperback. They made eye contact at one point and he gave her a small subtle wave and a simple nod of the head. She nodded back and returned to her book.
It was clear they were there to stay, so Mason decided he should try to take a nap. If he kept it short enough, he could probably avoid a nightmare. He set the alarm on his wristwatch to four-thirty and laid down. He left the door to his bungalow open to enjoy the cooling breeze that wafted up off the beach. His body was exhausted, so it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. The alarm woke him as planned. He cleaned himself up, then kept an eye on Number 6.
Joey and Jessica headed to the dining area about an hour later. He was about a minute behind them. They were sitting at a table for two and he took one close by. They were the only ones there.
“Hey!” Mason said. “I just got here today. You guys been here long?”
“Today, too,” Jessica said. “I’m Jessica. This is Joey.”
“Mason,” he said, shaking their hands. “You guys Americans, too?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Seattle for me and Joey is from North Carolina.”
“I grew up in Georgia. Woof, woof, Georgia Bulldog here.”
“Not a lot of us Yanks in this part of Malaysia. Any part of Malaysia for that matter,” she said.
“What brings you to the Perhentians?” Mason asked. “It’s not what I’d call one of the big destinations.”
“The snorkeling here is supposed to be great, at least that’s what Joey says.”
“You’ve been here before?” Mason asked Joey directly, hoping to get him to engage in the conversation.
“Yeah. Before the last rainy season. It’s spectacular. That’s how I knew about this place,” he said gesturing to the Majestic Turtle. “I saw it last time I was here. I knew Jess would like it.”
“Private bathroom,” she interjected with a big smile.
“I’ve heard the coral is truly awesome,” Mason continued, making small talk.
“Yeah. Wait till you see it,” Joey said. “And thousands of fish. Have you ever swum some place where there are so many fish you can’t see beyond them?”
“No sir, I haven’t.”
“You will here. It’s mind-boggling. And sea turtles, too.”
“What about sharks?” Mason asked.
“What about them?”
“Well dang, aren’t there a lot of ‘em around here? Over on Besar they even got a place called Shark Point.”
“Yeah, but the ones around here are blacktip reef sharks. They won’t hurt you if you leave them alone. They’re timid creatures really.”
“Sharks? Timid? That’s a stretch.”
“Not really. Sharks have gotten a bad name. There are a few hundred species of sharks and only about a dozen are dangerous.”
“Well that’s fine unless they’re swimmin’ in the water with you.”
“Not going to happen here,” Joey said.
“That’ll be good news to my partner Bob. The whole idea of sharks scares him shitless!”
“Hey Mason,” Jessica chimed in, “we’re going snorkeling tomorrow. You ought to come with us.”
Mason noticed that Joey stiffened slightly when she invited him but then recovered himself.
“Yeah. That’d be cool,” Joey added.
“Sure as shit!” Mason exclaimed. “Who wants to go snorkelin’ by themselves? And I’m not sure if Bob will even show up. He’s a workaholic. Thanks guys!”
They continued to chat and eventually Jessica suggested that Mason pull the adjacent table up to theirs and join them. Joey seemed okay with it, so Mason did it.
After dinner, Joey and Jessica said they were going for a walk on the beach. It was a beautiful night. They planned to have breakfast about nine and go to the little dive shack at ten to rent equipment and hire someone to boat them around.
Mason said goodnight and headed to his bungalow. The first meeting with Joey didn’t go as he had thought it would. Except for that one instant when Jessica invited him to join them tomorrow, Joey struck him as a happy, laid back guy
. Hard to picture him as a cold-blooded killer. Then he smirked to himself because he knew there was no question that Joey was just that.
Back in his cabin, Mason poured his glass of Jack and made notes in his journal. With the second glass of whiskey, he popped two of the sleeping pills and curled up on the bed. Maybe it was the sea breeze or the sounds of the cicadas and other night creatures, but Mason fell into a sound sleep and didn’t have a single bad dream.
Day 23
Through the window, Mason saw Joey and Jessica walk toward the dining area. He threw on a tee-shirt and shorts and joined them.
“Hey y’all,” he said as they took the same seats they had the night before. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a month of Sundays. I’m ready to chow down.”
“Great!” Jessica answered. “But are you ready to swim with the sharks?”
”I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t still a little scared about that – sharks bein’ sharks and all. I figure, though, that if it were that dangerous this place wouldn’t be the snorkelin’ capital of the known fuckin’ world!”
Mason turned to Joey. “I don’t suppose you did much divin’ growin’ up in Carolina,” he said.
“Nah. Just regular old swimming. All my diving and snorkeling have been done in this part of the world.”
“Pretty much the same for me, though I did do some spring divin’ in north Florida a few times when I was in college.”
“What’s that like?” Jessica asked.
Spring divin’? Fuckin’ cool, actually. The water is crystal clear, colder and fairly deep in places. It’s fresh water, so it’s easier to stay down. One of the spots where I learnt how to do it was about eighty-five feet deep and with caves at the bottom.”
“Caves? At the bottom? Not for me,” Joey said. “I have no interest in going someplace I can’t see my way out of.”