Murder on Tiki Island: A Noir Paranormal Mystery In The Florida Keys (Detective Bill Riggins Mysteries)

by Christopher Pinto

  Man, she was a sharp cookie. Melinda had to be the only dame I ever met who put reason before her emotions. “Good point, kid. And very true. This is all for fun right now, right?” She nodded a quiet yes. “Neither of us really knows what’s going to happen at the end of the week, do we?”

  She put her head on my chest and I held her gently.

  “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come with me?”

  Melinda looked up. She certainly seemed surprised. “Come with you? To Key West?”

  “Yeah, to Key West. You know Jessica too. She’s worked for you and if your opinion of her hasn’t changed she’ll probably work for you again. No reason on Earth why you shouldn’t come along. She might listen to you more than me anyway.”

  “No, William, I can’t. It’s already after three and I have a full day of work ahead of me tomorrow.”

  “Let Bachman do it.”

  “It’s his day off.”

  “Frig him, call him in. You’re the boss now.”

  “Sure, that sounds fine when you say it. I can guarantee he’s already off-island. No, I’ll have to stay here and take care of things on this end. But I’ll tell you what I will do for Ms. Rutledge, as a friend of yours and as a good employee she’s been for us. If she needs to get away from Key West for a while, she can stay here, in one of the rooms that Bachman had reserved. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Thanks kid. That’s a nice thing to do.”

  “Just make sure she’s OK, William,” she said and nearly choked up. “Then come home to me.” Melinda kissed me again with that fire that burned through my heart and soul and made me wish I never heard of the cop business or New York or any of it. Then she softly slid away and said, “I’ll wake up the Captain and have a fast boat waiting for you at the dock in ten minutes. She quietly dressed and left.

  “Here we go, Mr. Reeggins. Got here mighty mighty fast, it’s only four-thirty.” This Captain was different from the one on the Tiki Express. He was rougher, older, very dark skinned and talked with a strange island accent and yes, he actually had a hook for a left hand. A chrome one, a double that he could open and shut. Every time he clicked it I shuddered. “Should I wait here for ya or are you comin’ back on the Express?”

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I’d really rather take the private boat back with you. I can give you a couple of bucks for a room.”

  “No bother, Mr. Reeggins. I have plenty friends in Key West where I can stow my carcass for a night.”

  “Groovy. How about we meet back here at ten?”

  “Aye, that works for me, Mr. Reeggins. Ten o’clock, that be fine.”

  The shack with the keys to my car was closed up, but unlocked. I fished through the keys until I found the one with the Hertz U-Drive key fob and was off to the doctor’s house. The doc lived in an 1890s-vintage three-story, not unlike Jessica’s old place, but much nicer. Verandas held up by white columns adorned the front of the house, and the railings had interesting decorations carved into the posts. When I got a little closer, I saw they were carved in the shape of stethoscopes. Nice.

  I knocked lightly on the door. A minute later an older woman in a maid’s uniform answered. She directed me to the back room where Jessica was laying on a single bed.

  She looked horrible and beautiful and the same time, if you can picture it.

  Her skin was pasty-white and there were dark rings around her eyes, but seeing her, alive, made me want to get on my knees and thank God someone got to her before it was too late. That stirring inside me started again. Melinda was right. I still felt something for her. Dammit.

  The doctor came in behind me. “Don’t wake her yet, Mr. Riggins. I finally got her stabilized and the rest is good for her right now.”

  “When can she be moved?”

  “A few hours, I think. What did you have in mind?”

  “I can take her back to the Resort, if she’ll come. She’s worked there before and the owner’s daughter knows her. She said she’d put her up there as long as it takes to get her clean.”

  “That’s nice of her. Although I don’t really think she’s a junkie. More of an occasional user, does it when she gets it.”

  “I don’t know about that, doc. I’ve seen a lot of people in my day who said they could take it or leave it, but they always took it as much as they could. Horse is a mean drug. It screws with people’s heads, makes them believe life is better when they use it. Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

  “I know. And I agree. But I also know this town, and most of the people in it. I know her supplier.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. And no, I won’t give you that information because he’s a patient. If you want his name you’ll have to go through legal channels.”

  “I’m on vacation,” I said, disgusted.

  “Good. Then I can tell you I phoned him and asked him point blank, and he told me she only shoots up a few times now and then. He said he hadn’t sold her anything for weeks, until Friday night.”

  “Friday night. Figures,” I said. “So what you’re saying is that if she’s not a junkie, she’s just stupid.”

  “Maybe not in those words…”

  “She needs someone to believe in, doc. She needs to know she can have a different life if she wants it.”

  “That would certainly help her.”

  “Yeah,” I said, knowing that was a long-term commitment. One I was in no position to make. Maybe a few days ago when things were different. I dunno.

  In the middle of my thoughts the doc said to me, “Did she mention anything to you about visions, or voices, Mr. Riggins?”

  No kidding, I thought. “Yeah, she did. She sees things. Apparitions. Ghosts. They tell her things but she can’t understand them, usually. Why do you ask?”

  “She believes these things as true. I tried to tell her they were probably brought on by the drug. She told me they were not.”

  “And what do you think, doc?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Jessica told me she drinks and takes drugs to silence the voices, stop the apparitions from coming. She says when her senses are dull, only then can she not see or hear them.”

  “So that makes her sort of crazy in the head, doesn’t it.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  I wished the doctor would get to the point. So what the hell, I said, “Get to the point, doc.”

  “There are a lot of things we as scientists don’t yet understand. I believe Ms. Rutledge is seeing ghosts.”

  Well, that was easy. “Seriously? And what do you base this on, as a scientist.”

  “I’ve seen things with my very own eyes, Mr. Riggins. Strange things. Inexplicable things. And I think you have too.”

  “Let’s leave me out of this for the time being. What have you seen, doc?”

  “I have a patient down on Eaton Street. When he was just a boy, his five-year-old brother died of consumption. To help with his grieving, the Haitian housekeeper sewed a doll for him and told him his brother’s spirit lived on in the doll. As the boy grew into a man, he kept the doll, telling everyone he knew that his brother’s spirit did indeed inhabit the doll. He married but had no children. The doll, however, remained an integral part of his life. He furnished the entire third floor of his home with doll-sized furniture and posed the doll in different rooms doing different things. His wife came to me one day and told me she was worried, not for her husband’s sanity, but because she was quite certain the doll had moved on its own. Over the next few years I visited that house, and saw that doll many times. It never moved when you were looking at it, but if you turned your back for just a second, Mr. Riggins, it would certainly move. I witnessed this myself on several occasions.”

  “You saw the doll move.”

  “No, I saw it placed on a chair in a corner of the room; we locked the room and had supper, everyone accounted for. Afterwards we unlocked the room. The doll was standing against the window, looking out on the opposite side
of the room.”

  What is it about dolls and Key West? I thought. “Sounds creepy.”

  “Quite. I also have been to the Rutledge house in Old Town, Mr. Riggins.”

  “You have, huh?”

  “Yes. And I believe you have too.”

  “I have. The place is nuts.”

  “So you saw…things…too?”

  “Yeah. Things I don’t understand. What do you make of it?”

  “Well, Ms. Rutledge’s mother was swept out to sea in the Great Atlantic Hurricane, as you know. I believe she’s trying to contact her daughter.”

  “Assuming that’s possible, why would she do it?”

  “You’re the detective. I was hoping maybe you could find out.”

  “But I’m on vacation.”

  +++

  As Riggins left for Key West, Melinda Hawthorn stealthily made her way back to her apartment. She wasn’t surprised to find Eliot awake, waiting for her in his room.

  “Thank you for coming again, my dear. It was the visions again. Vivian, I’m sure of it, and that other creature, the one with…”

  “Please don’t, Eliot. I don’t need nightmares too.”

  “I’m sorry, my dear. Could you give me a snifter of brandy, please?” Eliot pulled the covers up close to his face as Melinda poured the Courvoisier. “I’m afraid things are getting worse, my dear. I can feel it. My past is catching up to me.”

  A pang of guilt echoed through Melinda’s soul. “Oh, Eliot, you’ve been saying that for years now. And yet you never say what it is that’s “catching up” to you.”

  “No, no I daren’t. It’s long forgotten and should stay as such.”

  Melinda tried to remain calm and talked to Eliot as nicely as she could, but it was very difficult under the circumstances. She knew Eliot was right; the doctor warned her that his condition…though not fully understood…was slowly killing him, eating away at his sanity and body.

  “If it’s forgotten,” she said sweetly, “why do you keep repeating it?”

  “Forgotten by some, not by others. Not by…them.”

  “Eliot, these things are all in your mind,” she lied. “That’s why they go away with pills and brandy.”

  “If only that were true my dear,” he answered. “Melinda? Where were you earlier? I tried knocking until almost two.”

  Melinda blushed but in the dim light of Eliot’s room, it couldn’t be seen. She thought quickly and said, “I was in Miami with William. We didn’t get back until very late.”

  “The boat came up at one,” he said.

  “We had a nightcap in the lobby bar,” she lied again. She didn’t want Eliot to know she’d slept with Riggins. She didn’t know how he’d react to that, and didn’t want to find out. It was her business anyway, but she felt that the man she had been closest to most of her life might not feel that way, and she certainly didn’t want to hurt him.

  “Ah, youth. I remember nights like that. A few drinks early in the blackness of night, sitting on the beach in the moonlight, walking along the eastern shore as the sun rose in a pink and black sky.”

  “We didn’t get quite that far, Eliot,” she said smiling.

  “My dear, I hate to ask, but would you please stay with me tonight? I’m very…very concerned. I think something terrible may happen if you’re not here with me.”

  Melinda moved over to the bed and laid down next to Hawthorn. “Ok, Eliot. I’ll stay with you.” She put her arm around him and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep well before sunrise.

  +++

  The doc offered me a guestroom to crash for a few hours before taking Jessica back to the Resort. I set the alarm on the nightstand for nine-thirty, and when it rang with that incessant clanging of steal on brass I nearly threw the damned thing through the window. Good thing I remembered it wasn’t mine.

  The doc was up, and had Jessica awake and alert. Her eyes got huge when they saw me. Then she smiled.

  “Billy! You came!”

  “Yeah kid, the doc telephoned me. How ya feeling?”

  “Probably not as bad as I look.”

  “Hello doc. How is she, really?”

  The doctor turned and said, “She can leave at any time. I believe the poison is out of her system now.”

  Poison. Yeah.

  “Good deal.” The doctor nodded and left the room. I leaned in close to Jessica and whispered, “Hey kid, what gives? I mean, what were you thinking, huh?”

  “Bill, please don’t. I just…I couldn’t stand it anymore. You, the Low Key Club, Bachman, Roberts, and…her.”

  “You saw her again, on the beach?”

  “Yes. She talked to me. I understood her this time.”

  That was a shocker. “Really…so what did she say?”

  “One word, Billy. Hawthorn.”

  “Hawthorn? What do you think he’s got to do with you?”

  “I...I don’t really understand any of this. I never have. I just know you saw her too, so I know I’m not kookie in the head. It’s my mother, Bill. I’m sure of it. She’s trying to tell me something but I don’t want to know what it is!” She started to get a little weepy and I calmed her down.

  “Look, kid, I want you to come back to the Island with me.”

  She lit up like a Christmas tree. “With you? You mean it Billy?”

  “Yeah, I mean it. Melinda’s going to let you stay in one of the rooms as long as you want.”

  “Melinda?”

  “Yeah, she said she’ll even find full-time work for you at the Resort if you want it. Roberts is out of the picture for good, and believe me when I tell you Bachman is next. You don’t have to stay in the life. You can get out while you’re still alive.”

  “A room at the Resort? Don’t you want me to stay with you?” Her eyes were confused, pleading. I couldn’t help but push back just a little, far away enough that I didn’t have to answer. “Bill, I thought…I thought you came for me because…because you loved me. I thought you wanted me to be with you.”

  I froze. Maybe I did love her. She was sweet and beautiful and flawed. Or maybe I loved Melinda. She was sweet and beautiful and perfect. Or maybe I was crazy and didn’t love anybody, and this whole thing would pop like a big balloon when I got back to my real life in New York. “Sweetheart, Jessica, things have changed a little now. Things are a little more complicated.”

  Tears started to well up in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. She spoke softly. “They’ve changed. You’ve changed. It’s because I’m not the same person I was a few days ago, isn’t it? It’s because in your eyes I’m just a junkie and whore, a mistake you made along the way, isn’t it?”

  “No, Jessica. Things are different because you lied to me, and I could never trust you. But it doesn’t mean I don’t still have feelings for you. I still want to help you. We can be friends, but nothing more.”

  She sunk back down into the bed, her hands over her face. She kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be that way dollface. It wouldn’t have mattered, in a week I’d be gone and you’d be here and that would be that anyway.”

  “I suppose,” she said through her hands.

  “Come with me to Tiki Island. Let me help you start over. It’s the least I can do for a girl who was such a big part of my life, if only for a few days.”

  Monday Morning

  Jessica and I met Captain Rango on the dock at ten (I found out his name when he introduced himself to Jessica, taking her hand and kissing it like a gentleman. Oh, yeah, he took it with his good hand, not the hook. Thank God.) We got on the boat with her suitcase and a couple of cups of Java from a stand and headed to Tiki Island. It was Monday and unseasonably overcast. There was a coolness in the air that I didn’t feel since a month ago up North. Out over the Atlantic the sky was dark and gloomy.

  “Big storm headin’ up our way, folks,” Rango said. “Hella bad one, tossed two ships under already, way out in the waters.”

  “A hurricane?” I asked,
noticeably worried. After those stories of 1935 I didn’t want to be within a hundred miles of one of those babies.

  “Not yet, Tropical storm. Very late in the season. Should veer off and go up de coast, I hope.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  We motored ahead and the Island was in sight. It was close to eleven when we pulled up at the dock. To my surprise, Sheriff Jackson and two deputies were standing there. Apparently they were waiting for me.

  “Mornin’ Detective. Got a moment?”

  This couldn’t be good.

  “Is it so important I can’t even get out of the boat first.”

  “Yessir. That important. Come with us.” They led Jessica and me up the dock and through the main entrance of the Resort without saying a word.

  “What gives, Sheriff? Is it about last night?”

  Everyone stopped. The Sheriff spun on his heels and looked me dead in the eye. “Don’t say another word, Detective. Not until we’re inside.”

  This was bad, I could feel it. Something was wrong, more than the two goons I offed last night. Something worse. Something…bad.

  We went into the Hotel and into one of the small meeting and banquet rooms on the right. The room was divided in two with a door in the movable wall. One of the deputies took Jessica through he door. The other stayed with me and Jackson.

  “All right, Sheriff, mind telling me what this is all about?”

  “You packin’?” He asked. Again, not a good sign.

  “Of course, I have my .38 on my belt.”

  “Would you please let me have it?”

  “Sure,” I said, and slowly took it off my belt and handed it to him, grips-out. He tucked it in his belt.

  “Sit down, Bill. We’ve got a big problem.” I sat. This was his territory, and if there was a problem I was going to respect his position. “Where were you last night?”

  “What time?”

  “Between midnight and four a.m.”

  I thought a minute. “I hadn’t actually been clockwatching last night, so let me piece it together. Melinda and I left the Miami Police Station around eleven-thirty, I think. We were back on the Island by one a.m.”