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

by Christopher Pinto

  Funny, she thought, that she’d used the word, ‘Dead’.

  Jessica took a deep breath and gingerly made her away out of the room and down the short corridor to the west side of the infirmary. There the windows had already been boarded up. “Great,” she said to the windows, and continued down the hall to the exit. When she opened the door, her heart sank.

  It was much closer than she expected. A swirling black mass hung over the gulf, not on the horizon but nearer, so near she felt she could touch it if she stood on her toes. Bright flashes of light quickened over the clouds, shooting thousands of volts of electricity across the sky and gathering energy with every strike. A line divided the Gulf where the sun met the storm; twinkling whitecaps played in the sunlight until they crashed against black breakers beneath the behemoth of wind and power. That wind was already reaching the Island, weak but sure. A gust came up and bent a palm tree in a grotesque dance.

  “God help us,” she said under her breath, but she didn’t expect any help from God tonight.

  +++

  “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to cut our time short, Mr. Riggins. That storm’s not going to wait any longer, I’d imagine. Got to get my tub to calmer waters.” Captain Reams got up from his squeaky chair and gave his back a stretch, one that made his bones crack and my nerves crawl. He took a last drink of the rum and held out his hand. “Sorry you got yerself mixed up in all this, Detective. But things in the Keys have a strange way o’ workin’ themselves out.”

  “I hope you’re right, Captain,” I said and shook his hand. It was trembling just a little, and not from the booze. “You Ok, Cap?”

  He let out a sigh. “Not exactly, sonny. That boat’s taken a few shelackin’s over the years, but I’m fearin’ it may not take it much longer. I should have left hours ago.”

  “Cap, I’m sorry if I held ya up…”

  “No, Detective, it’s not yer fault. I just been puttin’ it off. Somethin’ was tellin’ me to hang about fer a while today. Now I know what it was. Somethin’ wanted me to wait fer you.”

  “Well, Cap, I’m glad I caught you. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Sure, Detective, one thing.”

  “Name it.”

  He took a set of keys off a rusty hook, turned and looked at me and said, “Say a prayer.”

  Captain Reams started up his twin diesels at the same time I cranked over the Caddy. A stiff breeze had picked up and I could feel little droplets of mist mixed in with it. I watched as he shoved off and headed north, then I shoved off and headed south.

  The traffic going north was heavy. A string of cars, trucks and police cruisers slowly made its way along the Overseas Highway, heading towards Miami. It got me wondering just how bad this storm really was. By the time I got to Sugarloaf, the traffic was gone.

  I parked the Caddy in Melinda’s garage and locked it up tight. Then I went to the payphone and called the Island for a boat. I got no answer. From the edge of the Key I could see Tiki Island clearly, now looking dull and lifeless under the late afternoon sun, a sun that was obscured by thick gray clouds. The sky was still clear and blue to the east, but to the west…deadly dark.

  When I still didn’t get through on the third try, I decided to go down to the dock and see if there was already a boat or a message. I got both. A small speedboat with a giant sign that said “Riggins” on it sat tied to the dock. It bobbed around like a toy in the choppy surf, but I managed to climb aboard without flipping myself overboard. A note taped to the wheel read, “Tiki Island evacuated except key employees, myself, Eliot and Jessica. Take this boat to the aft dock and tie it down tight. I’ll have the crew bring it up to stow it. Use the key to start it – push the key in to set the auto choke and turn to start. Then put the gear lever full forward and hang on. See you soon. Be careful, Melinda.”

  So she thinks I don’t know how to run a boat, huh? Well…yeah, ok, she’s right. I followed her instructions and got it started on the second try. Then I untied the bowline and the line on the stern (see, I know something about boats!) sat in the captain’s seat and put her at full throttle. The front of the boat tipped way up and I thought it was going to flip over, but then planed off and started skipping along the tops of the whitecaps with ease. I pointed the boat toward Tiki Island, heading into the dark west at a fast clip.

  The ride only took a few minutes, but it was enough to let me collect my thoughts. I had gone over everything Reams told me as I drove the Caddy back from his dock. Now I had those thoughts all organized, catalogued, and cross-referenced in my head as sure as if they were on paper. I knew the right questions to ask to get the right answers. And I was going to get my answers tonight, come hell or high water.

  Bad analogy, I thought as I gunned down the engine and motored the speedboat into the slip at the ass end of Tiki Island.

  +++

  By six o’clock every window of the Resort had been covered with the special hurricane-proof shutters that Eliot invested in twenty years ago. The doors were reinforced with heavy wood barricades, and the only way in and out of the building was through the rear loading dock. The small boats had been drug ashore and stowed in the boathouse. Every piece of lawn furniture, every Tiki torch, every bottle of booze and pack of matches had been removed from the outdoor bars and beaches and stored in the watertight storerooms. Tiki Island was sealed up as tight as possible against the oncoming rage.

  At six-fifteen, Melinda said goodbye to the last of the crew. The twenty men shoved off in the launch, heading for Sugarloaf Key and the safety of Florida City. The Island was mostly vacant, except for herself, Jessica, Eliot, and of course, me.

  The four of us sat in the Shipwreck Lounge, quietly drinking brandy. Melinda suggested the brandy, and we somberly took up residence at the table nearest the water tank. Even the fish seemed depressed and worried, sensing the oncoming fate.

  We’d been there for over an hour, but hadn’t said more than a dozen words to each other. Melinda was too busy battening down the hatches, Hawthorn was mute and Jessica was in a half-sleep. Finally, around seven thirty, Melinda came back and sat down with a new glass of Courvoisier.

  “I’m exhausted,” Melinda said quietly as she stared down at her drink.

  “Yeah,” Jessica restated, also looking down. She shot a quick glance my way. Then her eyes filled with terror and shot back down to her drink. I guess the look on my face wasn’t so pleasant.

  Distant thunder rolled along the background of our minds. Then a closer, louder but still well-off boom carried its way into the room. There was no flash of light, as the Resort was sealed shut.

  “Storm’s getting closer,” Hawthorn said with a strange, breathy tone. His eyes never left the fish tank.

  “Yes, Eliot, it’ll make landfall in a few hours. But I’m sure we’ll be safe here,” Melinda said softly, putting a loving hand on his shoulder.

  “Like Hell,” I said, having enough. “If that storm’s anywhere near as strong as everyone says it is, we should cut and run now. If we leave now, we can take the Caddy up to Miami before the storm gets anywhere near here.”

  “Eliot won’t leave the Island,” Melinda said softly yet sternly.

  We’d been through that already. That was the dozen words we had. I said, let’s shut the joint up, take the launch back to the car and head for the hills. Melinda said Eliot wouldn’t leave the Island, under any circumstances. I said she was nuts. She said I could leave if I wanted to, alone. I really didn’t want to stay on that damned Island, not with the storm crawling up our guts. But I couldn’t leave her, and Jessica, alone.

  “You want me to get Eliot to leave the Island? One whack with the butt of my .45 in the back of his head and he won’t have any say in what we do,” I said strongly.

  “Sugar,” Jessica muttered, finally forcing her eyes to meet mine, “Don’t, Bill, it’s too late to leave now. The Overseas Highway will already be flooded by the time we hit Key Largo.”

  I looked at Melinda. “It’s t
rue,” she said, “Even if we left now, we’d get stuck in the Keys. We’re safest here, in the Safe Room.”

  I ground my teeth and took a long swig of the brandy. I hate brandy. “Fine. Nice work. We stay. God help us.” I rose from my chair, knocking it away, and got a bottle of twelve year old Scotch from behind the bar. I filled a highball glass with ice, and brought it along with the bottle back to the table. “But if I’m gonna be stuck in here all night with you three kooks in a storm that might very well take us out, I’m drinkin’ the good stuff.”

  “I’ll take one of those too,” Jessica said a little louder.

  “Go get some more ice from the bar, kiddo. You set ’em up, I’ll pour.”

  We sat in silence, drinking and staring, for what seemed like hours. In fact it had only been ten minutes. I talked big about the Scotch but really I had no intention of getting drunk. I paced myself real nice, milking the highball for all I could. The last thing I wanted was to not have my wits about me if a big wave came crashing across the Island. Then I thought about that, and wondered if getting drunk was the thing to do. Then, out of nowhere, Melinda perked up.

  “Hey, this is crazy you guys. We’re all acting like this is the end of the world. Why? The building can resist a force-three hurricane, and the Safe Room is almost completely storm proof. It would take a forty-five-foot seawall, hanging over the Island for twenty minutes to flood it. That’s so close to impossible it might as well be a fairy tale. We’ll be fine. And if there’s any damage to the Resort, the insurance will cover it. The important thing is that we got all the guests and crew off the Island long before they were in any danger. Now all we have to do is relax, have a few drinks, have a few laughs, maybe a nice meal, and get through the night without hating each other.” She was all smiles. Miss Tiki Island, 1956. That somehow made me feel a little better, believe it or not.

  The feeling wore off fast as an extremely muted, far-off thunder roll sounded eerily like the pounding of drums; rhythmic, intentional. Just my imagination, no doubt, but creepy nonetheless.

  “It’s coming,” Hawthorn said as eerily as before. “No stopping it now.”

  With Hawthorn’s weather report, the gloom resumed over our little quartet. I took a quick drink of my Scotch, and said, “When do we go downstairs?”

  “Not until much later,” Melinda said. “The storm hasn’t even reached us yet. We can keep an eye on it from Eliot’s apartment for now. There’s a viewing window built into his storm shutters, and it looks straight across the gulf. I’d expect the first of the strong winds to start reaching us within the half-hour. By eight-thirty, the tide should swell enough to engulf most of the beaches, up to the garden. Remember, the gardens and the buildings are elevated, so if there’s any flooding, it won’t come until the storm is in full force.”

  I asked, “When will that be?”

  “Around midnight,” Melinda replied.

  “Great,” Jessica said, “The Witching Hour on Halloween.”

  In all the commotion I’d forgotten tomorrow was Halloween. Not that I’m a superstitious guy, but after the weird stuff I’d seen this week, it seemed pretty damned ominous.

  “I think ghosts and zombies are the least of our worries tonight, kiddo,” I said to Jessica.

  “Yeah,” she said into her drink, noting the irony. She took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

  Melinda looked at each of us, and took a sip of her brandy. I wondered how much she’d had that day. It was my experience that she could hold her liquor like a sailor. Right now, she was wavering just a little.

  “I think we should have dinner. I haven’t had a bite since noon, and for one am famished. I can whip something up in the dining room kitchen. What do you say?”

  “That sounds good to me, doll. Maybe a couple of plank steaks will take the edge off the evening,” I said. “I can give you a hand if you want.”

  “No bother,” she said getting up. “You stay here. I’m going to bring Eliot back up to his room to rest for now, then I’ll go fire up the steaks. I’ll bring everything back here when it’s done.”

  Melinda released the handbrake on Hawthorn’s wicker wheelchair and without another word wheeled him out of the lounge and off to his room. Jessica and I watched as they left, until they were out of sight.

  “You and me have some talking to do, kiddo,” I said as I lit two Camels and offered her one.

  “I knew this conversation was coming,” she said, blowing the smoke high into the air and letting her eyes settle on mine. “So did Melinda. That’s why she left us alone. Where should I start?”

  I took a long pull of the cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly, letting it curl up around the two of us. “Start with you, Melinda, and Hawthorn together.”

  “You get right to the point, don’t you detective.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Now give.”

  +++

  “Melinda,” Eliot said, “Not here, by the window. I want to see it coming.”

  “There’s not much to see, Eliot, it’s too dark.”

  “I’ll catch a glimpse with each bolt of lightning. I want to face my fate.”

  Melinda sighed. “Why do you keep talking like that, Eliot? You’re acting as if we’re all going to succumb to the storm tonight.”

  “Not all of us, my dear, just I. Just I.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, walking him to the window. The shutters were sealed, but a two-foot square, three-inch thick glass window, set in the center just at sitting height, gave them a view of the Gulf. All that could be seen was darkness. Then lightning flashed, and thunder shook the room. The lightning lit up the whitecaps long enough to show them that the sea was indeed angry, and indeed creeping up to the garden.

  “No my dear, it’s true. Tonight’s the night. Tonight I pay for my sins. There’s no escaping it. I’ve been told.”

  “You’re talking gibberish,” she said, not wanting to believe him, but fearing the truth. “Nothing’s going to harm you, Eliot, I’ll make sure of it. No one – nothing can get into the safe room. And we’ll be down there long before midnight.”

  “You think concrete and steel can stop them, Melinda? You’re wrong. They’re coming. They’re coming for me, for what I’ve done. There’s no escape.”

  Melinda’s eyes turned red with tears. “I won’t let them!” she choked, and threw her arms around him, kissing him, letting the tears flow freely. “I won’t let you go!”

  Eliot held her tightly, remembering the warmth, the love they shared. “You must,” he whispered to her, “I deserve this. You don’t know the things I’ve done, before you and your mother came into my life.”

  “What things? What could you have possibly done to deserve this?”

  “No, my dear, that I’ll never tell. I want you to remember me for the man I’ve been these last twenty years, not the monster I was before then.”

  +++

  “What have you heard?” Jessica asked as coyly as a child.

  “I’ve heard a lot. Some of it sounds believable. Some of it sounds like a tall tale.”

  “The stuff that sounds believable is probably all lies.”

  “And the stuff that sounds crazy?”

  She took a puff. “Lies too.”

  She was playing, trying to weasel out of getting to the point. “Come on Jessica, come clean.”

  “Come clean? I don’t even know what it is you think you know, and I sure as hell don’t know why you care.”

  That kind of steamed me. “Why? Because the two of you have been playing me for a pawnshop fiddle and I don’t dig it, ya dig?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Bill.”

  “You’re lying. You’ve been lying since I first met you on the boat coming over here. A hostess? Yeah, fancy name for a –”

  “Please don’t Bill, don’t say it.” She held back tears and I felt like a heel. I was mad, sure, but I wasn’t being myself. Putting down dames wasn’t my style, no matter what their profession. Still, I didn’t apologize. />
  “Ok, tell me this. Did Melinda hire you to play up to me? As a kind of a favor to the “hero cop” VIP coming to the Resort?”

  She waited a few seconds before answering. Her eyes were turning red. “No. She had nothing to do with it. When I met you, I had no idea who you were. That first night we spent together, that was real.”

  “And after that?”

  “Bachman…encouraged me to see you again. But I didn’t do it because he told me to. I did it because I wanted to.”

  “Sure,” I said and poured another Scotch. The next question was a hard one.

  “Did you ever work directly for Melinda? Did she ever run the girls through here or what?”

  “Well,” she said softly, “Not exactly. Things were…different, a few years ago.”

  “Different how?”

  She looked away, almost as if she were ashamed of something. I went for the jugular. “You and Melinda were lovers, weren’t you, kid.”

  She shot a glance at me that damn near tore my head off. “No, not lovers. But we did…”

  “Sleep together?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. A rumble of thunder, closer than ever rattled the fixtures.

  My gut twisted in a strange way. I’m no prude, but somehow I couldn’t take it, these two women that I’d been so intimate with, had experienced so much pleasure with, had been together. It was just weird to me. I’d never been with a doll that was into other chicks, let alone two that had been into each other. Sure, I was close to Fast Freddie but I never bedded her. She was strictly chicks only, true to the core. But these two…

  “Does knowing that bother you, detective?” she finally asked, now looking more sadistic than ashamed.