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

by Christopher Pinto

  “Because she’s a fool,” he answered, patting his hands on his napkin. “She doesn’t trust it here. Fine with me. Gives us time to have some fun together.”

  Rose got up from the table. “And fun’s what it’s all about, ain’t it sugar?” She let the robe slide to the floor, revealing her curves wrapped up in a midnight blue negligee that pushed things just the right way, in just the right places. A pair of black silk stockings and black heels finished off the ensemble.

  “Black. Nice, but it’s not after Labor Day yet,” Eliot quipped. Rose slowly made her way to him, walking deliberately in such a way that every part of her moved in harmony, like a wild cat on the prowl.

  “Well,” she said, “Maybe I can find a way to get you to forgive me.”

  “Maybe,” Eliot said as she kneeled in front of him. “Maybe you will.”

  He enjoyed every minute, but his mind was in another place.

  1956

  Melinda let me back into Hawthorn’s room.

  “Eliot is fast asleep in bed,” she whispered as I walked into the darkened parlor. “Jessica is knocked out on the sofa in his bedroom” A crash of thunder shook the walls. The sounds of rain splashing against the side of the Hotel and wind whipping through the halls made it difficult to hear her whispers.

  “How can they sleep with all this noise, kid?”

  “The sedative is pretty potent. They’ll probably be comatose for hours.”

  “Do you think we can leave them alone long enough to grab some chow? I’m starved.”

  Melinda seemed apprehensive. “I suppose we could have room service bring something up here.”

  “Nix that idea,” I said. “I can’t stand it cooped up in here with this crazy storm shaking the place. I need to be around people, kid.”

  Melinda looked around at the room, not sure what she was looking for. Then she looked back at me. Her big browns shined in the candlelight, just the way they had at our first dinner. I hadn’t realized how close she was to me until then. Before I knew it I found her arms around me, and I drew her in close. Our lips met softly, in one of those moments when the world slips away and you forget what it was you were talking about, and all that matters is you and her and the touch of her lips against yours. I closed my eyes and for a second I could feel myself wanting to be with her, forever, here, in this flawed but still beautiful paradise.

  A burst of lightning shot through the cracks around the shuttered windows and broke the spell. A split second later the thunder crash came, searing and loud and hot.

  “It’s almost on top of us now,” Melinda said. “This will be the worst of it. Now.”

  I was still holding her close. “How long do you think it will last?”

  “Hard to say,” she answered, still whispering. “Probably long into the night. The storms slow down when they hit the keys, then pick up speed and usually head west or north when they move into the Gulf.

  “These things make me nervous,” I said. I wasn’t used to being on an island in a tropical storm, was all.

  “Don’t worry, this place was built to withstand one-hundred-thirty-mile-per-hour winds, and a twenty-five-foot tidal wave.”

  “How big was the wave that hit in thirty-five, again?”

  “Twenty feet,” she said, smiling.

  “I feel better already. What about that chow now, huh?”

  She blew out a deep sigh. “Sure, I think the kids will be ok if we leave them alone for a little while. I think.”

  Melinda called ahead to the Tiki Deck on the second floor and had them set up a table and prepare dinner for us.

  “We might as well have some sort of view,” she said as we walked in. The windows were all uncovered, exposed to the elements.

  “Isn’t that sort of dangerous? What if something comes flying through that glass?”

  “Settle down, scardy-cat!” she joked. “It’s bullet-proof. Four-inch thick glass. Eliot had it made especially for this room. You could hit it with a truck at forty miles-per-hour and not go through it.”

  “You guys thought of everything, didn’t you?”

  Melinda suddenly turned very serious, in a way I hadn’t really seen before. It spooked me a little. “Eliot lost his wife and his best friend in that storm, William. And he believes it was his own fault. So yes, before allowing a single soul to spend the night on this Island, he thought of everything. There’s even a Safe Room below the building, carved into the limestone and sealed against the water.”

  That got my attention. “A Safe Room? Like a basement?”

  “Exactly. We can hold over two hundred people in there. There’s a supply of canned food, fresh water, toilets, everything needed to survive for weeks even if the Island is totally submerged.”

  “Like a bomb shelter,” I said as I settled into my plank steak.

  “Sort of, except not meant for any real long-term living. Just a place to ride out a storm, if necessary. Luckily we’ve never needed to use it.”

  “Let’s hope you never do, especially tonight.” The waiter brought two Mai Tais. “Buddy, can you do me a favor?” I asked him. “Give my Mai Tai to the lady and bring me a double Bourbon on the rocks?”

  “Certainly sir,” he said.

  “Make it a Wild Turkey. I need something stiff.”

  “Right away sir,” he answered and ran off.

  “Bourbon?” Melinda asked.

  “Yeah. This ain’t a night for no foo-foo drinks, doll.” Melinda laughed. I just smiled.

  Sunday, August 30th, 1935

  It was about four in the afternoon when Eliot heard the loud engine of the Deputy’s boat.

  “Who is that?” Rose asked as she lay in Eliot’s bed, in the place where Vivian had lain for years.

  “Not sure, probably Roberts. You wait here. I don’t want him knowing you’re here.”

  “Ok sugar,” she said, and slid back down onto the pillows.

  Eliot dressed quickly and made his way down to the rear loading dock. There Roberts and two of his men were docking. Roberts came up on the landing, waving.

  “Just checkin’ to see everything’s all right, Mistuh Hawthorn,” Roberts yelled from the dock.

  “Fine, fine. Everything’s buttoned up and ready for whatever hits us.”

  “Ya’ll know, suh, they’s sayin’ this storm’s brewin’ up to bein’ one of the worst ever to hit us. You sure ya’ll want ta stay here on the Island? Might be better to head up aways to Miami, don’t ya think?”

  An annoying man, Roberts was, Eliot thought to himself. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, Roberts. This house has stood for over forty years. I don’t think a little wind is going to blow it away.”

  “Suit yo’self, suh. Just wanted to make sure ya’ll was ok. How’s the missus?”

  Eliot twitched slightly, not enough for Roberts to see. “She’s trying to get some rest up in our room. She’s quite deflated that our Labor Day party plans have fallen through. She put a lot of work into this affair, you know.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Well suh, you should know they’s warnin’ people all up and down the middle Keys to evacuate. I won’t be able to come on out here again before the storm hits, so if ya’ll need anything, I guess you’re on your own.”

  “Well thanks for stopping by, Roberts. Everything is Ok here. Say, what time do they expect the storm to hit us?”

  Roberts took off his hat and wiped his hair with a grayish rag. “Well, the people outta Miami been sayin’ they figure we oughta start feelin’ some wind by morning, tomorrow. Waves should start kickin’ up around mid-afternoon. But they ain’t sure. Say the storm could veer off, run up the coast and not even touch us. Ya’ll know how it is.”

  “Yeah. Well, thanks again. I’ll see you after the storm, I suppose.”

  “Yessuh,” Roberts said somewhat gloomily, “I’ll come by after to make sure ya’ll are ok. Say hello to the missus for me, kay?”

  “Will do. Thank you Roberts.”

  Roberts let out a heavy breath. “Yessu
h.”

  Eliot turned to leave the Deputy behind, and started back toward the house. A stiff, short breeze hit his back. It was starting already, he thought. Then he felt a tap on his back. Roberts was right behind him.

  “Just one mo’ thing, suh.”

  “What is it, Roberts?”

  “I didn’t want to say in earshot of the other boys. That whore you been seein’…”

  “Rose?” Eliot asked, even more annoyed.

  “Yeah, that one. You ain’t seen her as of late, have you?”

  “Not since last weekend, why?”

  “She’s gone missing since last evening. They said she left in a cab with a man, but no one saw jus’ who it was. All she said was she didn’t want to ride out the storm in the Keys, and was heading somewhere safe.”

  Eliot thought a minute, then said, “Well, that’s not really missing, is it? I imagine she went up to Miami then. Maybe further. I’m sure she has plenty of clients who would oblige.”

  “I’m sure,” Roberts said rubbing his chin. “Well, ok then. Good luck Mistuh Hawthorn. I’ll see you after the storm.”

  “Good luck to you to, Roberts.”

  Eliot stood and watched Roberts walk back to the boat, get in, and leave. When the boat was out of sight, he took a walk through the garden where he’d left so many memories, where the grass grew thick and the flowers bloomed year-round. He paused just for a minute, reflecting on his actions and their possible consequences, and in that moment he knew he’d made the right choice, and that no matter how horrific today and tomorrow might be, in the end everything would be all right.

  1956

  The food and booze went down easy with Melinda as company. Even the heavy downpour being whipped sideways into the giant glass windows didn’t seem to bother us. Of course when the lightning struck, that was another thing altogether. The searing white light lit up the entire coast of Sugarloaf Key, revealing a pretty disturbing scene: Palm trees that seemed to bend almost in half, boats bobbing like apples in a swimming pool full of kids, and a bay that seemed way too high for anyone’s comfort. The rear loading dock was situated at an angle and in such a way that you couldn’t see it from the restaurant, but just by looking at the bay you could tell that dock was under water.

  “Those palm trees make it look like the end of the world,” I said to Melinda.

  She laughed. “Palm trees are so phony. You get a fifteen mile an hour gust and they look like it’s a typhoon. Don’t let them worry you.”

  “I won’t,” I said. And I wouldn’t, but something was gnawing at me the whole time, something I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “Is there any possibility of the Island getting flooded?” I asked Melinda as we got up to go. She frowned. It was sad.

  “Three times in my lifetime, the entire Island was under water. But none of the buildings. The only damage was that some of the plants couldn’t survive the salt water. But the buildings were always fine. It’s as if Eliot knew just how high to put them.”

  I was confused. “The buildings are attached to the ground, ain’t they? I mean, the front entrance has some steps but the back end and the side wing open onto ground level, don’t they?

  Melinda laughed. “They don’t. They just appear to. It’s a sort of illusion. All the buildings are built up on steel pilings anchored into the limestone. Not one building is less than six feet above sea level. And even in the worst floods, we’ve only recorded about four feet.”

  “Krazy. How do you pull it off?”

  “Well, in some places its just the rolling, hilly nature of the Island, capitalized on by some very ingenious engineers.”

  “If the buildings are built up, what’s under them?”

  “Fill. Mostly rock and sand. Everything’s been filled in and built up. Except for the Safe Room.”

  There it was again, that crazy safe room, and that same gnawing that had been bugging me all night. That was it. That’s what my fuzzy, liquor-fogged mind was trying to tell me. There was something not right with that safe room.

  “Melinda, where is that room?” I asked as we walked toward Eliot’s suite.

  “Right below us. It takes up most of the main building area.”

  “No, I mean the way in.”

  “Oh, well there’s one in the back of the house, next to the kitchen in the Hukilau dining room. The other is in the front of the building.”

  “Where?”

  She thought what I was thinking before I even had a chance to think it. I think.

  Her eyes lit up wide.

  “In the hallway next to the General Manager’s office.”

  “So you’re saying the entrance to the Safe Room is next to Bachman’s office.”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling, “And a set of keys are kept in his desk.”

  Bingo.

  We checked in on the sleeping beauties before venturing down to the Safe Room. They were both out cold. Apparently apparitions didn’t like barbiturates.

  The minute we stepped off the elevator Melinda was berated with questions by several very tired, very worried-looking employees. One was afraid they were going to run out of hors d’oeuvres and didn’t know what to do. Another said the guests were drinking faster than they could wash glasses. Melinda put one hand up and everyone clammed up quick. There was no doubt about it now. She was in charge.

  “Ginny is the M.O.D. She can handle anything you need.”

  “Ginny’s up to her ears in trouble,” one of the boys said.

  Melinda responded with, “Then Ginny needs to delegate. She’s got twenty-five years in hotel management in the Keys. Believe me, she can handle anything you throw at her. I have more important issues to take care of right now. But for now, since you already asked, have housekeeping bring two racks of room glasses down here to cover the guests. At this point I don’t think they care if they get their liquor in a fancy glass. And as for the hors d’oeuvres, have the kitchen whip up some Swedish Meatballs and cheese-filled puffs. We’ve got enough of the ingredients for those to last a week.”

  The boys thanked her and ran off.

  “I’m impressed, Hawthorn, you really know your stuff.”

  Melinda gave a little laugh. “I picked it up along the way.”

  “What’s a MOD?”

  “Not a mod, an M.O.D. Manager on Duty. You think I work twenty-four hours?”

  I smiled back a mischievous smile. “I happen to know for a fact you don’t, kitten.”

  “Rrrrrraaaarrrrr,” she said back as we headed to Bachman’s office.

  We found the keys quickly and headed down a short hall to a fire exit and a door with a sign that read “No Access, Authorized Personnel Only, Alarm Will Sound If Opened.” Next to the door was a big red bell that looked like something from the last century.

  “Fire alarm?” I asked.

  “Nope, security. If you open this door without the proper keys, it rings so loud you’ll wish you were dead.”

  “Good thing I know the chick with the keys,” I said. She just shook her head and opened the door.

  Thunder clapped loud. It seemed to be all around us, penetrating us. I actually felt it in my chest. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about heading underground during this storm.”

  “William,” she said, “It’s the Safe Room. The Safe Room. We don’t call it that because of the pool tables.”

  “Gotcha,” I said. Sometimes I could be pretty silly.

  The door opened on a strange, wide, dark staircase that smelled like wet concrete. She found a switch and a dozen fluorescents came to life, buzzing and flickering before giving us their full attention. The steps, walls and ceiling were solid concrete. The steps were painted white. They showed almost no sign of action.

  Melinda said, “No one hardly ever comes down here anymore. I used to play down here on rainy days when I was a kid. I myself haven’t been down here in years. We send a cleaning crew in once a month to make sure the place is tidy and the food is still in date.” At the bot
tom of the steps was a small landing and another door. An old clipboard hung on the wall. She picked it up and checked the last page. “Last inspection was on October first. Everything A-OK.”

  “So no one’s been down here in a month?”

  She opened the large steel door to the Safe Room. “No one who signed the sheet.” Automatic lights flickered and came up exposing the room’s expanse. It was nothing like I expected.

  The room was decorated in the same fashion as the hotel but richer, with bamboo furniture and rattan walls, carved wood ceiling fans, blowfish hanging lamps and hand-painted murals of underwater scenes including mermaids and shipwrecks. There actually were pool tables, or rather billiards tables at one end of the enormous room. A bandstand with a drum-set and amplifier system sat at the opposite end. A carved mahogany and ebony bar ran along the entire expanse of the far wall. It was fully stocked with what looked like hundreds of bottles. A couple of dozen bar stools appeared to be carved from single pieces of tree trunks and upholstered in some exotic leather, perhaps ostrich. Behind the bar were doors that appeared to lead to a kitchen or pantry.

  “This is a Safe Room? It looks like a ballroom! No wonder you used to play in here.”

  “What were you expecting?” Melinda asked curiously, a laugh in her voice.

  “I dunno, something like a bunker, you know, like an atom bomb shelter. Concrete walls, metal-spring mattresses, first-aid kits. Stuff like that. Not this,” I said as I spread out my arms dramatically.

  “William, this is Tiki Island. It’s owned by one of the wealthiest men in the south. Nothing here is utilitarian.”

  “Isn’t it kind of crazy that he’d spend all this lettuce on a room that never gets used?”

  Melinda laughed again, that beautiful, joyful laugh that made me think bad thoughts. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say it never got any use. You have to remember, Eliot was a socialite. He loved to entertain his friends, so much so that his former home was known for it’s great parties. Things didn’t change with Eliot when he built Tiki Island. For years he still had his parties, just like he did when this was known as Hawthorn Island.” We walked over to the bar. Melinda sat on top, swung around and landed behind it. She opened a bottle of Jack and poured as she spoke. “This was his private party room. This is where he and my mother and their friends lived it up, secretly, away from the eyes and ears of the regular guests. This is where he continued his traditions of wild, crazy parties with gambling tables, dancing girls from Cuba and guests from all over the world.”