Murder and Mayhem

by Hamilton, B L

  “Occy pool, what’s an occy pool?”

  “It was a natural rock pool where a baby octopus had been stranded after high tide. We caught it with a stick and killed it and chased everyone with it for days until it started to stink then Mum made us take it down to the pier and toss it into the water.”

  “Sounds like you guys had fun.”

  “We did.”

  “How come I don’t remember that place?”

  “By the time you would have been old enough to remember all the tents in the camp had been pulled down to make way for a national park.”

  *****

  A tall young black man with the good looks of a future heartbreaker strolled leisurely down the path coming towards them. A backpack hung casually off broad shoulders, an iPod dangled from his ears, his mouth moved silently to the words of a song only he could hear, his fingers snapping in time with the beat. As he passed the bench where they sat, his face broke into a wide grin showing a row of perfectly formed white teeth that accentuated his chocolate-brown eyes. They smiled and mouthed a greeting they knew he couldn’t hear, and watched him continue down the path, his lithe body moving in time with the music.

  Suddenly the young man propelled himself high in the air, like a basketball player rising for a slam-dunk, pumping his fists up and down in a victory dance.

  “Oh Yeah!” he yelled at the top of his voice, causing birds from a nearby tree to take fright and scatter across the river in search of a quieter roost.

  Nicola laughed. “Somebody sure is having a good time.”

  “Oh, yeah, mothers of Portsmouth better lock up your daughters ’cause the next Denzel Washington is on his way.” Danny chuckled.

  On the other side of the park, a man sheltered beneath the spreading limbs of a large fig tree with mottled gray serpentine roots spread like dorsal fins half-submerged beneath the hard-packed earth. Dressed in blue jeans and black Grateful Dead T-shirt, he wore a baseball cap pulled low on his head that created shadows along the contours of his unshaven face. Dark mirrored sunglasses hid hard eyes filled with hatred and portent. The man’s gaze cut sideways as the young black man danced past, his head bobbing up and down as his feet tapped out a rhythm on the concrete path.

  “Right on brother,” he said to no one in particular as he shifted his weight and settled comfortably on the hard unyielding wooden bench, crossed his legs and laced his fingers behind his head. The stranger’s cold eyes shifted and focused on something on the other side of the park, his thin, cruel mouth twisted in a vicious sneer as the fiery orange sun hanging low on the western horizon, bounced off his mirrored lenses and sent out a silvery flash. High on a branch a pair of black crows, with eyes like hard pieces of coal, looked down in silence.

  Suddenly something flashed in the periphery of Danny’s vision. He looked up, his eyes scanning the park, skirting over patches of lawn and under trees. For a brief moment his eyes came to rest on the tall, young black man in the distance whose graceful limbs undulated in time with the music only he could hear. Danny shook his head and laughed.

  Nicola stirred out of her reverie, and smiled. “What’s so funny?”

  “Just our young friend, Mr. Washington boogieing on down the boards.”

  Danny stretched and looked around, then reluctantly dragged himself to his feet and took hold of Nicola’s hand. “Come of lazy-bones, it’s time we made a move.”

  *****

  “Who was that?” Rosie asked.

  “Like Danny said…, he’s just a young man boogieing on down the boards. Someone to keep the readers amused.”

  “I didn’t mean him. I meant the man sitting under the fig tree watching Danny and Nic.”

  “What about him?”

  “Is he just another one of those strange men that keep popping up or does he have something to do with the story?”

  “He might be.” I could hear the sigh in her breathing while she waited for me to elaborate. I didn’t.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Are you going to tell me who he is–or not?”

  I raised my eyebrows and tugged at my mouth in an evasion.

  “Not.”

  “You’re not going to tell me? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Another stand-off at the OK Corral.

  “That’s right,” I said… and kept typing.

  “Okay…. Well.., let me ask you this? Is he the same man that was on the boat in Vermont?”

  I said, “Possibly,” and left it at that as my fingers flew over the keys trying to keep pace with the words in my head.

  I heard a loud intake of breath and sensed another thought forming in my sister’s head.

  “Bubbie, aren’t you worried that at the end of the story you’ll have all these strange men hanging around with no good explanation for them to be there? You’re going to have an awful lot of loose ends to tie up. How can you keep track of them all?”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see when the time comes. Now can I hurry and get through this bit because, as you know, time and tide waits for no man.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “And neither does radiotherapy.”

  I leaned over and gave her a gentle pat on the hand. “Only two weeks to go, Hon. We’re on the home stretch now.”

  *****

  When the day turned to evening, and the last of the sun’s molten rays dripped through the trees and hung low above rooftops casting long fingers of shadows across the landscape, Danny drove down Hanover Street and pulled into the parking lot behind the Atlantic Grill Restaurant.

  They were perusing the menu when a waiter materialized with a jug of chilled water and two glasses.

  “Shall I give you a minute?” he asked as he filled the glasses and wiped droplets of water off the table with a cloth.

  Danny nodded.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Danny thought for a moment then noticed a sign wedged between the pepper and salt shakers. “Margarita, Nic?”

  Nicola looked up from the menu she was studying, and smiled. “A Margarita sounds good. It’s been ages since I’ve had one.”

  The waiter nodded and hurried over to the bar. He returned a short time later and placed the Margaritas on coasters. His eyes stared blankly out the window as he waited to take their order.

  Nicola ordered Caribbean pan-seared cod and Danny, beef medallions, both with side orders of cornbread and salad. A mobile phone rang and a loud one-way conversation ensued at the next table. Nicola looked at Danny and smiled as the conversation took on a personal note, but the man didn’t seem concerned others could hear.

  “I noticed you didn’t bring your cell with you.”

  “No point,” Danny said. “It wouldn’t work here. We don’t have the same servers.”

  “But what if someone needed to get in touch with you?”

  Danny shrugged. “It would only be the office, and I’m on vacation. The only people I would need to get in touch with are guys about parts and I can use the hotel phone for that. The last thing I want is the office keeping tabs on me.”

  The restaurant, apparently a popular haunt with the locals, soon filled with people while the gravelly voice of a singer issued from the speakers of a CD player, discretely tucked out of sight.

  A man with a cap pulled low on his head entered the room. He looked around and found a vacant seat at the end of the bar partially obscured by a potted plant, where he could watch people enter and leave.

  TWENTY-SIX

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I knew I hadn’t been drinking−but I was seeing double− and, believe me, it was not a pretty sight.

  “Oh, how cute,” my sister cooed–but cute was not the word I would have chosen.

  Twin visions in candy pink, shiny lime green and iridescent orange were heading our way. Between the two of them there was enough orange polyester to clothe an entire cheerleading squad–but fell way short of covering the massive cleavages that spilled forth like overrip
e melons. If it wasn’t for the truck tires that passed as waist, hips and behinds, that kept them grounded, they would have toppled forward and suffocated everyone in their path.

  All conversation stopped mid-sentence and a hushed quiet fell over the room as all eyes focused on the twin vision as they teetered towards us on matching glittering six inch stilettos.

  Everything down to their candy pink lipstick, orange blusher and lime green eye shadow were identical, including the colored streaks in their stranger than usual ‘dos.

  The girls did a twirl holding their hands in the air to make sure we noticed their nails painted in matching iridescent colors.

  “Whatchoo think?” Chartreuse asked as she did a hippopotamus twirl in front of me.

  Louanna laughed excitedly. “Haint we summun?”

  I…I’m speechless,” I said.

  Louanna held onto Chartreuse and lifted one foot in the air, tottering precariously on a six-inch stiletto. “Looke here Bee, we’s even had our toenails painted to match our fingernails,” she said thrusting a foot at me.

  I staggered back to avoid getting a foot in the face, reached down and pretended to tie a loose lace on my sneakers.

  “Oh, Louanna those nails are a real nice touch,” Rosie said.

  Chartreuse beamed. “We got that same Ko-re-an girl to do ‘em special for us, Bee.”

  I was struck dumb, completely speechless…, so Rosie answered for me. “They set the outfits off nicely with everything matching”

  I decided to keep my mouth shut in case one of those feet got stuck in it.

  Chartreuse flicked at her hair, “Whatchoo tink of our ‘do, Bee?”

  “Oh…Oh!” I stammered still having trouble finding my voice. “Love the matching streaks. They are so–you!”

  “Chartreuse done my hair and I done hers,” Louanna said.

  “Well, I think you both did a real nice job. It looks so…professional.”

  “You think?” Louanna asked.

  “Definitely,” I said, but, hey, what would I know?

  It was then that Rosie noticed Chartreuse was dressed in street clothes. “Say, Chartreuse, how come you don’t have your gown on?”

  “Oh, I came in this morning ‘n’ had my treatment.”

  “Then why are you back here again, is everything all right?” I asked, suddenly finding my voice.

  “Oh, we came in special to see our friends,” Louanna said.

  Rosie and I looked at each other–surely they didn’t mean us!

  Then Louanna and Chartreuse came up on either side of me, took hold of an arm and guided me down to where they had left their bags.

  “We got a surprise for you, Bee,” Chartreuse said.

  “Oh, goody,” Rosie said, following behind. “I just love surprises.”

  Louanna leaned down, grabbed a large shopping bag with a store logo splashed across the front in bright colors and handed it to me. “Go ahead, Bee, open it,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

  When I opened the bag and looked inside I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Rosie saw the stunned look on my face. “What is it Bubbie?”

  Chartreuse gave me a nudge. “Go put them on, Bee, we’re dying to see how they look,” she said.

  I held out the bag. “I can’t accept this, Chartreuse, it’s too much.”

  But she held up her hand. “No, no, Bee. We got ‘em special, for you, didn’t we Lou?”

  Louanna nodded her head up and down. “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s real sweet of you girls but I can’t accept this, really I can’t.” Then I turned to Louanna and tried to hand her the bag. She held her hands up, unwilling to take it.

  “Mr. Pierre made them up special for you ‘cause you’re such a skinny little ting, with hardly no titties. He only got clothes to fit the more matua figure, like ours. So we can’t take it back,” Chartreuse said.

  “And beside, you’ll hurt our feelings, Bee, if you don’ accept our gift,” Louanna added.

  Rosie grabbed hold of the bag–and looked inside. “Oh, Bee, these are beautiful. Go put them on so we can see how they fit,” she said doing her best to suppress a laugh.

  Chartreuse pushed me in the direction of the change room, and said, “Yeah, Bee. Go put them on. We is dying to see how they look.”

  …

  As I totted self-consciously down the room on six-inch high heels, the place was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Through the hazy mist of embarrassment and humiliation I could sense everyone watching me. Even the medical staff were hanging out the door of the treatment room – some with their mouths wide open in stunned surprise – while others had grins on their faces.

  When I stumbled past Mr. Takamura on glittering purple stilettos, tugging at knickers riding high in my bum-crack, he let out a low wolf whistle–and then I thought I heard him say, “Babe, you are one hot potato.” But I could have been mistaken.

  A camera flash went off in my face and I imagined my picture splashed across the front page of every newspaper and magazine in the land. I prayed a sinkhole would open up in the floor and swallow me whole.

  . . .

  Later that night I was in the guestroom working on my book when Ross wandered into the room and asked how my day was.

  “Oh, just the usual. Nothing exciting,” I told him.

  “Good thing you’ve got your story to fall back on otherwise your life would be pretty boring.”

  “Boring, I could live with. It’s the other stuff that scares the heck out of me,” I muttered–and kept typing.

  *****

  Danny pulled the SUV into the curb, cut the engine and switched off the headlights.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  Nicola looked across the river where the glow of lights reflected on the surface of the water, and nodded. “It’s so pretty here, isn’t it.”

  Dry leaves swirled and crunched beneath their feet as they walked along the path leading down to the river. The night took on the orange glow of lamplights, where insects circled in the incandescent glow. The world seemed like a beautiful place as they wound their way along the narrow concrete path, accompanied by the sound of water fowl, and frogs, and the occasional plop of fish jumping for insects that settled on the water surface. A symphony of music and laughter drifted up from somewhere.

  They found a bench and sat listening to the sounds of the night and the soft lapping of the water against the mossy bank. The air was sweet with the smell of night-blooming flowers and dew that settled on newly cut grass. A crow cawed in the darkness as the night mist hovered above the water and swirled along the bank like fine wisps of smoke in the dusky rose-colored light.

  Nicola looked over at Danny. He was watching an aircraft pass overhead.

  “You told me what it was like growing up a small town, but what happened when you left? Where did you go? What did you do?” she asked.

  Danny watched the lights of the aircraft fade in the distance as he gathered his thoughts.

  “While I was studying at TAFE I worked as a waiter in a coffee shop to earn enough money to live on, and to pay for my education. During the day I was either in class or studying, and at night and weekends I worked. I had no other life and no friends to speak of, but that didn’t bother me. I was young and I’d set myself goals, something to aim for, so I worked hard knowing someday my life would be better.

  “One cold, wet Sunday afternoon a young woman came into the restaurant where I was working her arms laden with books. She took a corner booth in the back where she would sit quietly studying. She was a little younger than me with long blond hair she wore pulled back in a ponytail, bright blue eyes and a sweet, shy smile. And, she came up to here.” Danny indicated an invisible line on his chest. He stopped and took a sip of water as he tried to keep the tears from his voice.

  “Pretty soon she became a regular customer and would always sit in the booth at the back where she could study without anyone bothering her.

 
“One day I asked her what she was studying and she told me, medicine. I’d noticed in the past that see she didn’t seem to have much money so I began to slip her a little extra on the side; another cup of tea–she only drank tea; an extra sandwich or a bowl of hot soup in the cold weather. I’m sure the owner knew but I was a good worker, so he never said anything. And, when the place was quiet I’d sit with her and we’d talk. Her name was Emma.” Danny said the name, like a whisper, through trembling lips. He stopped for a while and allowed the memories to wash over him. A frog croaked somewhere in the rushes. The headlights from a passing car swept over them as it turned a corner.

  “Em told me she was going to University and working part time at a department store in the city to help pay the bills. Sunday afternoon, she explained, was her day off. She said she shared a house near the university with a couple of girls and at weekends it was noisy and filled with people, so she came into the restaurant to study in peace, and to keep warm during the winter.

  “As time went on, we got to know each other pretty well and Emma would often wait for me to finish my shift then we’d walk to the park or take a bus into the city. Sometimes we’d go down to the quay and sit on the wharf and watch the boats in the harbor while we listened to the buskers on the boardwalk. It was cheap entertainment.

  “Emma was quiet, and gentle… and she was sweet. My little bird, I used to call her. She was my first I love.” Danny didn’t say anything for a while as he recalled painful memories from long ago.

  “At the time I was renting a room from an elderly couple, which really wasn’t very convenient, so one day Emma and I found a small apartment in an old terrace house in Newtown, with a bed and what passed for a kitchen in the corner with a two-burner hotplate. The bathroom was little more than a cupboard with a toilet and shower–but no hand basin. We had to brush our teeth over the kitchen sink. It wasn’t much, but we were together and that’s all that mattered.