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

by Christopher Pinto

  Suddenly Jessica started taking things very seriously.

  She grabbed Melinda’s hand and held it so tightly Melinda thought it might break. She looked into her friend’s eyes, gaining strength from her, assurance. She looked to the old woman. The woman’s eyes were completely black. Thunder crashed so loudly she thought the roof would cave in. “I want to know who murdered my mother, Rosey Rutledge, and I want to know why!” she screamed over the thunder and crashing waves beneath the dock.

  “Kapo’ulakina’u,” the woman shouted, “Bring us this night our answer, show us the soul who would bring this injustice against a child of the Earth!” She added a pinch of purple dust to a pan and it flashed with a brilliant blue light... and at that exact instance, against the carefully rehearsed plan she had made with Melinda to find the name of her mother’s killer, Jessica screamed, “And take revenge on him!”

  “JESSICA!” Melinda screamed and pulled away from Jessica in shock, her eyes wild with fear and regret. The old woman’s eyes bulged too, and she shouted as loud as she could, “Pele, Goddess of Fire, protector of women, listen to our plea, and avenge this woman’s death!”

  “NOOO!” Melinda tried to stop her; she kicked away the brews and drums and began shouting things in Hawaiian but it was too late. With a final crack of thunder, a piercing bolt of lightning tore through the roof of the hut and connected with the old woman’s staff, pulling energy from the Earth, the universe, from all things living and all things in the afterlife into the room. And as the brilliant light burned, the black winged shadow grew larger and larger, finally reaching the roof and morphing into the full figure of a woman, her face smashed in, her skin rotted and gray, black mud dripping from her vacant eyes and gaping mouth. The wraith screamed, and thousands of creatures erupted from her throat, crabs and eels and innumerable horrors, roaring forth and spinning around the room in a black typhoon. And as suddenly as it appeared, with a final scream the phantom ripped through the roof of the hut and hurled itself into the night.

  Melinda moaned deeply and hung her head down low.

  “Our fate is sealed,” she said hoarsely. “The Gods are awakened.”

  The old woman closed her eyes and mumbled something in Hawaiian. Jessica sat wide-eyed, in shock, not understanding what had just happened. Melinda, however, knew exactly what had just happened.

  “So what the hell does that all mean?” Jessica asked innocently. “Who’s the murderer?”

  Gaping in horror at Jessica, Melinda said in a scratchy, hoarse voice, “Jessica, have you any idea what you have done?”

  “Well...no...I mean, well...”

  Melinda shivered, and swallowed hard. “You don’t know what power you’ve just released. You have no idea what you’ve just awakened.”

  Jessica got up and wiped a few tears from her face. “Well, I rightly don’t give a God damn, Lin,” she said, holding back more tears. “Whoever killed my mama,” she said quietly, “Deserves to die too, and die in a most horrible way. Don’t ya’ll agree?”

  Melinda was silent.

  “Thank ya’ll, Ma’m, for ya’lls help,” she said to the old woman, and left the hut.

  Melinda looked at the old woman, her teacher, Haukea.

  Haukea said softly, “That girl, she will not like the outcome of this, I fear.”

  “Neither will I,” Melinda said.

  “No,” Haukea said, “I’m afraid, my dear, you shall not.”

  +++

  “I didn’t see Lin for a long time after that. She wouldn’t return my calls, wouldn’t see me if I had a job on the Island. She’d been pretty much carryin’ me along, moneywise, so when I didn’t see her no more I had to go back to work at the club.” She finished off her drink, then motioned for me to pour her another.

  “Where is it?

  “In the dresser.”

  I found the bottle and poured her a full glass.

  “That was when everything started, Bill, that night with that crazy Hawaiian Voo-Doo women. That’s when we...that’s when I released the phantoms, or demons, or Gods, or whatever you want to call them. I released the evil side of my mother’s spirit, and those of Hawthorn’s wife, and the women he killed. I don’t know how it’s even possible, but it happened. That’s when Eliot started seeing things, too. He started seeing things because he was the murderer.”

  I hung my head low. Three months ago if anyone had told me that story, I’d say they were bats. But not now. “Jesus kid, so you knew the whole time it was Eliot who murdered your mother?”

  “No,” she said, “Not at all. In fact, it wasn’t until the weekend before he was taken away that the ghost of my mother came to me, and finally was able to...to talk to me, to tell me who it was that was responsible for her murder. That was the night I...” she trailed off, closed her eyes and held back more tears.

  “That was the night you tried to kill yourself,” I said, finishing her thought.

  “Yeah. I realized then and there that I’d signed Eliot’s death warrant. That’s why they were haunting him, ya know what I mean? They were gaining strength, strength from every storm, every turn of the tide, getting stronger and stronger until they were strong enough to...”

  Her voice trailed off again and she took a long pull of her booze. It didn’t seem to be affecting her much. “We didn’t realize it was Eliot who they wanted, because he’s always been such a sweet man to Melinda and me. We just figured they’all were trying to get to any of us they could, like they was comin’ to me, just to get more energy or make contact or somethin’.”

  I sat on the small chair next to Jessica’s bed, just shaking my head.

  “Ya’ll don’t believe me?”

  “This is all pretty hard to take, kiddo,” I said. I didn’t know what the hell else to say. “But it’s all over now, right? I mean, they got what they wanted, so it’s over.”

  “Not exactly,” she said to me and coughed. There was blood in it. “They wanted Roberts too, for his part in all of it.”

  “And they got him, no doubt about it.”

  “Yes, and they wanted Captain Reams, for his part,” she said quietly.

  “The got him too, Jessica. He’s dead.”

  She frowned. “I though as much. And there was one other they wanted.”

  I thought a minute. Who was left? “Bachman?”

  “That’s right,” she said, “But they didn’t get him.”

  “I know they didn’t kid. I know who did.”

  “No Billy, I don’t think you do.”

  I was a little puzzled. I wasn’t sure if Melinda told her the truth or not, that she had killed Bachman but that I told everyone it was Hawthorn who murdered him. “Er, who do you think I think it was?”

  “I know you told everyone it was Eliot,” she said.

  “Right.”

  “But I know that you found out that it was Melinda who killed him, because of what he’d done to her.”

  “So she told you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the big secret?”

  Jessica took a deep breath, then took another swig of her whiskey. “Melinda didn’t kill Bachman, Billy. She was ready to take the fall for me.”

  “For you?” I asked, not understand what the hell she was talking about. “You. Why would you kill Bachman? And how could you, considering you were in Key West all night?”

  “Not all night, Billy.”

  Sunday Night, October 27, 1956

  Key West

  Drums.

  This was new, Jessica thought as she lay on her hot, sticky, sweat-drenched bed. Drums, far off and ominous, meant for her ears only. The drums summoned her, called her down to the beach where she’d gone so many nights before. In her half-dreamlike state she obeyed, strolling right up to the water’s edge.

  The drums grew louder, louder, then stopped. Like so many waves ebbing against the shore, the apparition whom she had come to know so well began to grow from the depths of the Gulf, looming up in front of her, a
dark mass of death filling the her soul with dread. But this time she wasn’t alone. Behind her, black and evil and full of hate were four hundred souls, some drowned, others hacked to pieces, others simply smashed beyond recognition, drifting up with the tide and obliterating the horizon.

  “What do you want from me!” Jessica screamed. “I can’t help you!”

  Like the searing screech of a thousand steel bows ripping over thousands of rusted violin strings, the creature’s voice groaned with disgust, “Hawwwwthorn”.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “No, no it can’t be! Not Eliot! He’s a good man!” she screamed, “He’s a good man!!!”

  “Not a good man,” the entity exclaimed, “An evil, murdering man!”

  And the others screamed, “Murderer! Pervert! Monnnster!”

  And Jessica knew, as her mind filled with images of swirling waters, hurricane winds and dark, painful death, that the phantoms were speaking the truth.

  She dropped to her knees, bursting with tears and mournful wails. Finally when she was able to speak again, she simply asked, “When?”

  “Threee days,” the phantoms replied in unison, an evil, gruesome sound that tore at her ears and shot like a bullet through her brain. “Look for the storm, it is then that we shall exact our revenge.” With their message sent, the phantoms slowly, quietly dissolved into the sea.

  “Oh, dear God,” Jessica cried to the Gulf, “I’m so sorry Melinda. I’m so sorry.”

  +++

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked Jessica, the images swirling around in my head like phantoms in the night. “How does murdering Bachman fit in?”

  “You don’t see it?” Jessica asked wearily. “I thought it would be obvious.”

  I thought for a second, letting all the little pieces of the giant puzzle fit into place. Then, those cop smarts that got me the title of Detective younger than anyone else in the history of the New York City Police Department kicked in, and I had it.

  “You did it for Melinda.”

  “Yes, detective. I did if for Melinda.” Jessica looked down at her thin hands, crossed on her lap, shaking slightly, uncontrollably. “And I believe you know why.”

  Of course I did. It was all plain as day now. “You really had no idea that Eliot Hawthorn was your mother’s killer when you had that old woman cast the curse, did you?”

  “No, not even a little” she responded hoarsely, “As a matter of fact, I suspected it was Roberts who done it.”

  “So when you found out that it was Hawthorn...”

  “I was devastated. I knew Melinda would just die if she found out, and I knew there was no way to keep it from happening. I’d screwed things up so much, I knew the only way to try to make it up to her was to...I dunno, make things easier for her, somehow. I knew she hated Bachman as much as I did. I knew without Eliot to protect her, Bachman would push Melinda out of the Island and take it over for himself.”

  “So you devised a plan, a fast, sneaky, smart, evil plan to kill Bachman, right under my and everyone else’s noses.”

  Jessica laughed. “Always the cop, ain’t ya, Billy? That’s right. Right there, on the beach, it was like I came up with the whole thing in my mind, in minutes.”

  “And it would seem you pulled it off. It’s the part about getting to the Island and getting back to Key West that’s a Duessy.”

  “Think you know how I did it?” she asked with the first smile I’d seen all day.

  “I think I have a pretty good idea,” I bantered back.

  “Would you like to lay out your theory for me, Mr. Detective?”

  I smiled. “Don’t mind if I do,” I said, and got up from the chair. “Shall I do it like the movie detectives?” I asked with a smile.

  “Oh yes, please do...I ain’t been to the cinema in months!” she laughed. It was nice to see her laugh.

  I paced a few times across the room, just for effect, and started in.

  “Sunday, October Twenty-Seventh. It’s late evening, and you hear the drums calling you to the beach. You follow them, scared and weary but you follow, and the phantoms come...and that’s when you learn that Eliot Hawthorn, a man whom you’ve been intimate with, the man who is your best friend’s closest...eh...father, lover, whatever the hell he is...is the man who murdered your mother in cold blood all those years ago. You know too that these...entities...will take their revenge on him, in three days’ time. You know because they told you so. And there ain’t a damned thing you can do to stop it. You’re feeling guilty because it was you who brought this down on Hawthorn, you who set these creatures free to do their will. You also realize that Melinda will be completely devastated by Hawthorn’s death. So you decide you need to do something, anything, to ease the pain of this impending horror. Is that the gist of it so far?”

  “Yes, so far you are on target, detective.”

  “Groovy. Ok, so you can’t tell Melinda what’s going to happen. You’ll try to warn her to take Eliot away, but you know he’ll insist on staying in his home, and won’t leave the Island. So, keeping in mind that Eliot will be gone in three days, you decide to kill a couple of birds with one stone...the first bird Rutger Bachman, making it look like Hawthorn did it.”

  “Rutger Bachman,” she said softly, “If anyone deserved to die...”

  I interrupted, “Yeah, Bachman, the man you hated, the evil bastard who ran the Low Key Club and pulled the strings to rope you in, the sonovabitch who was really behind your drug addiction, the man who got you into prostitution, then exploited you, filmed you, used you...even to extort Melinda, the one true friend you’ve ever had.”

  The look on Jessica’s face could stop a train. “Yes, Bachman,” she answered in an eerie tone that made my skin crawl.

  “You’d thought about killing him before, didn’t you? You’d thought about it but knew you’d never get away with it, and even if you did you’d still have Roberts to contend with. But now thanks to me Roberts was out of the picture, and you had the perfect opportunity to do Bachman in, without anyone ever knowing it was you. You could strangle him, murder him in his sleep, slip out the backdoor of Tiki Island and back to Key West, making it look like Eliot Hawthorn...or hell, that even I was the murderer.”

  “I never meant for it to look like it was you,” she said.

  “Damn near got me put behind bars, kid.”

  “I’m sorry Billy. Truly.”

  “Forget about it. Now, we know why you did it...and where you did it...”

  “Now you have to figure out how I did it.”

  “Let me take a whack at it,” I said, and took a sip of the whiskey straight from the bottle. It was strong stuff, just what I needed. “Sunday night, you called Bachman.”

  “So far, so good.”

  “I’m guessing you told him you needed something to get you through the night...something special, something that only he had, something that you’d be willing to come all the way to the Island to get it.”

  “That’s right. He always kept a very special stash of the best...medicine, here on the Island. I called him and told him I needed a special fix.”

  “And that you’d spend the night with him as a thank you, no doubt.”

  “Well,” she said, seeming embarrassed. “Yes, it was the only way.”

  “So he arranged for a boat to pick you up on Key West. You knew that since this was a covert, illegal operation, that he would pay someone not to ask questions, and not to ever talk. In fact, he probably hired a non-hotel employee from Key West to shuttle you here.”

  “He didn’t have to. I just took a random boat, taking a dozen people up to Islamorada. Dropped me off here at the Island without saying a word. I told the man to come back at one a.m., and to keep his mouth shut about it. A hundred dollar bill sealed that deal. A red wig and glasses made sure he’d never recognize me again.”

  “So you came up to Bachman’s suite, say, around ten o’clock?”

  “Yes, around then.”

  “You got your
fix, and bedded him in return, insuring he’d be knocked out and sound asleep when you were ready to do him in.”

  “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she said, looking down again.

  “So after he fell asleep, you quietly made your way to Hawthorn’s suite. I’m guessing you have a key to Melinda’s room, and got in through the connecting doors?”

  “I do, and I did.”

  “You grabbed Hawthorn’s walking stick while he was sleeping, crept back to Bachman’s room, and, not knowing exactly how to bash his skull in, you decided it would be easier just to crush his big old Adam’s apple with that heavy hunk of wood. One well-placed blow would have smashed his windpipe well enough to keep him from having much fight in him. Whack!” I said, bringing my fist down in my hand.

  Jessica jumped. “It wasn’t so easy, Bill. It took me almost a half hour to get up the nerve. Turns out, funny enough, killing people isn’t my thing.”

  “You get used to it,” I said under my breath. She pretended not to hear. Her voice was ice cold when she began to talk again.

  “The first strike smashed his throat up pretty good, but it woke him up, in a lot of pain, too...he started clawing at his throat, and tried to scream, but he couldn’t get any air out. He couldn’t get off the bed. He struggled for a minute then started to turn blue. I beat his hands away from his throat with the stick, then laid it across his neck and pushed down as hard as I could. His eyes bulged, his tongue stuck out of his mouth and he gasped but nothing came out. I was...I was sickened, almost ready to throw up it was so horrible. Then I remembered all the horrible things he’d done, and I pushed down harder. He was too weak to push me off. He just laid there, dying under me. The last thing he heard was my voice.”

  I was having a lot of trouble believing what she was telling me. She sounded like a hardened murderer, someone who took pleasure in taking another man’s life. But then, she probably did take pleasure in killing Bachman. My angel, my sweet Jessica. An executioner for justice. Not so much different than someone else I knew...

  “What exactly did you say to him?” I asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.