My My Little Prince

by Rod Lacy Rod Lacy

  He bumped open the stall door with his hip and walked over to the sink and stared back at himself in the polished aluminum mirror and turned on the water. He rinsed his face and hands and ran his long fingers through his hair. As he did this, he glanced back and said, “Oh, by the way, your pay is that I did not break your jaw, got a problem with that? ... ”

  As he walked out of the station he instinctively avoided looking at any possible surveillance cameras. No big deal for him, he always did this. He felt like he had a ‘runner’s high’ going through him. He was almost giddy. He thought, “Damn that was too easy. Dangerous though,” he laughed. Fuck I love that part! The thrill of it’ of the possibility of getting caught. Man, that’s almost as good as the killing!” He practically skipped down the stairs, bags in hand, and out the swinging door into the cool night.

  He walked around the corner, ignoring the few cabbies that called out to him. He knew he would find one easily and thereby avoid any direct witness’s that could tie him to the station. He stretched his sore back again. “Damn, that was the worst bus ride ever. The bus from hell, all those dumb Dominicans, chickens, sweaty bodies and shit food.

  Yes, life is good though ... Robert, Smitty, Campbell, and now Dr. Pierre ... the illustrious Dr. Pierre. I think I will like this identity best. I think I will keep this one for a while. At least until I take care of the loose ends in Cocoa Beach.

  I wonder how that Sherine looks now. My god what a luscious creature she was. I may have to entertain her one last time before I correct the situation there.”

  He settled with a cabbie and slouched back in the seat as he pulled out into traffic. “Ok, matters at hand … let’s see … ,” he pulled Dr. Pierre’s wallet out of his back pocket and scanned his ID. “Ah, Pierre lived near the Zona Colonial, a few corners from the Parque Colon ... His address is … HA! … was, the Colón Building; corner of Mercedes and Americana, apartment #204. That should be easy to find. Thank you Dr. Pierre. You were so helpful.”

  About twenty minutes later he had the cabbie pull over about a block from the apartment building. He gathered his two small bags and strolled the wrong way around the block. He rounded back to the apartment and was standing in front of Pierre’s door looking at a key ring, “Ah, this key should work ... perfect; first try opens the door.” As the door swung open enough for him to look in he had to whistle, “Wow, this is nice … never would know it from the outside.” He shut the door softly behind him and slowly took it all in. “Too bad I can't stay, but duty calls … gotta run,” he said with a smile. “Yup hate to steal and run; especially from someone that I actually liked before I killed them.”

  As he walked around the apartment he mentally checked off items that might be useful. Then he started gathering them in a neat pile on the massive ebony dining room table. He gathered Pierre’s laptop, check books, diplomas, and family pictures. He found an IPhone on a charger on the kitchen counter and shoved that and the charger in his pocket. “Combined with his wallet and passport, this should be about enough to convince any of those idiots out there. Yes sir, the new Dr. Pierre is on the loose. This time I actually have all the documents I need should I decide to work in a hospital again. I do love the drugs and patients.” He found a large suitcase in the master closet and loaded everything inside.

  “Now let’s see, gotta make it look like a break in; … quietly though.” He made another loop through the apartment. He pulled out every drawer and opened every door, tossing things on the floor. He stashed a few valuables in the suit case also. “Now, a little scraping at the door… and … that … should do it.” He made a last circuit admiring his handiwork, “Perfect,” he thought. “Of course, I'm not just good, I’m the best. Adios Dr. Pierre, nice to have known you; nicer to be you.” He backed out of the door and closed it quietly, but left it unlocked. “Can’t have anyone finding it too soon now can we?”

  He slunk towards the fire exit stairs whistling softly.

  31

  A couple hours later, Dr. Pierre was ready to leave Santo Domingo. He’d checked into a Cabana … a per-hour hotel famous for rendezvous and trysts. He thought again to himself, “I need to go somewhere that is good for me; somewhere where I can relax and plan my new life. That trip from Haiti really made me tired.” He had decided on Las Terrenas, a small resort town on the Dominican Republic’s north coast.

  “According to what I heard it is a one-horse town with a few Europeans mixed in with some Dominicans. It sounds like a town where I can do what I want. Maybe I can find some fun … my kind of fun! Maybe I can get a girl that no one will miss. And so I can do whatever I want to …”

  “Where did I put that hotel number that the front desk lady raved about? Damn, what was it called?” He fumbled through some papers from his pockets, his hands shaking a bit. “Oh, this is it, the Casa Del Mar Neptunia Hotel.

  “Thanks again, Dr. Pierre.” Pierre said to himself as he pulled out his recently acquired laptop and looked up the hotel on Google. “There it is ... H-m-m, looks nice, … quiet and perfect. Wow, it has some nice awards even … there’s Lonely Planet and Trip Advisor … great reviews … yeah, I can get lost there for a while. H-m-m, Las Terrenas … never heard of the town before, but I never heard much about the Dominican Republic before either; until lately.

  He reached for his new IPhone and dialed the number given. “Hello, yes please, I'm interested in a room for a week or two, … yes, with A/C. Perfect, … Yes, the name is ah, ah, Dr. Pierre, … yes, Dr. Pierre, … Really? Ten percent discount if I pay cash, huh? Well I was planning on paying cash anyway so that’s great! … Ok, thanks, it'll take me a few hours, so I should arrive close to four. Ok, thanks.”

  He threw the phone down on the bed and began packing the few items he had removed from his huge suitcase. “I'll call a cab and get him to take me; it’s better than a bus with all the stuff I have to take.” He picked the phone up again and pulled a crumpled business card out of his pocket and dialed the number for Apollo Taxi. “Yes, I need a taxi that can take me up to Las Terrenas. How much would that be??”

  “Las Terrenas? That’s three hours.”

  “More like two and a half, but how much?” He asked in a voice that demanded attention.

  The voice over the phone didn’t balk. “It is two hundred US, or one hundred sixty Euros señor.”

  “Ok, I’ll pay dollars.” He quickly arranged for pick up in front of the hotel, then scanned the room once more. Satisfied he’d left nothing he headed out to meet the cab.

  The elevator touched down on the first floor and Pierre walked out through double glass doors, keeping a low profile as usual. Just as the doors bumped shut behind him a taxi pulled up under the portico. “Amazing the fast service one gets here in this backwater dump,” he mused.

  The driver jumped out and popped the trunk. As he was man-handling Pierre’s bag, Pierre asked, “Ever been to Las Terrenas before?”

  “Oh yes, many times since they build the new road. It used to take six hours, but now it’s only two and one half to the mountain, then maybe another thirty-five minutes to get over the mountain … unless you will pay the toll for the new extension that goes around the mountain.”

  “Take the new extension; I want to get there well before dark. What is the old way like anyway?”

  “It’s only fourteen kilometers but its slow, steep and dangerous.”

  Pierre smiled and told the cabby, “Dangerous, huh? That sounds like fun. I like danger.”

  Now the cabbie was wondering … something was telling him this guy was trouble. He looked at Pierre and said, “I don't know about that being fun. That’s not my idea of fun. It may be yours, but many people have died crossing that mountain; mostly due to being drunk or a drunk hitting them.”

  “Take whatever way you want then, but get this piece of shit going.” Pierre asked, “Do you know the Casa Del Mar Neptunia Hotel?”

  The cabbie answered. “No, but I have a guide book. It will be easy to find. Las Terre
nas is not that big.”

  “Ok, as I said, I want to be there before it gets dark. I don’t want anyone to rob me or hurt me. I don’t like to walk at night by myself. You don’t know who you will meet at night. I just want a warm bed and to finish my book.”

  It was several hours later when they arrived at the Hotel. They had had two flat tires on the way so it was just getting dark and it was hard to see the small unlit sign. The cabbie studied his guide book and said “It should be just up here on the right.

  They almost drove past it but Pierre spotted the sign and told the cabbie to stop. They had driven about one hundred feet down a one-lane gravel street. Pierre got out and immediately stepped in a mucky muddy puddle. The thick orangey looking water filled his shoe and he shouted “Damn this garbage!”

  As he leaped across the puddle trying to keep his other foot dry, he almost bumped into a lean wiry guy with a neat pointed goatee and a big smile on his face. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses as he reached out to steady Pierre’s balance by his elbow. “Sorry about that, we have had a lot of rain the last few days and the entire road is flooded. Welcome to Las Terrenas, I’m Miguel.” A big brown and black dog stood behind the owner. His fur bristled, and JMiguel reached down and quickly held him by his thick collar just as he lunged. Miguel struggled with the big dog for a moment. “Easy Chico! Easy!” Chico calmed a bit but kept an agitated eye on Pierre.

  Pierre just looked at the dog and stood stock still. He looked up at Miguel and questioned with his eyes. Miguel nodded his head. “Ah, sorry about that too, Chico is never like this, he loves everyone.” He laughed a little nervously and positioned himself between Pierre and the dog. He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed one of Pierre’s bags. “This way sir.”

  They ducked through an arch in a small flower studded arbor and Miguel nodded ahead, “It’s just right here Mist ... er, uh, Doctor,” Jim said as he pointed to a small quaint building with a thatch roof on the right. Pierre could see the receptionist standing behind a small desk. It was lit by a small dull lamp and she was writing something on a pad. She looked up, “Well, welcome to the Casa Del Mar Mundo Hotel. I’m Sarah, I see you’ve met my husband there and Chico too. Dr. Pierre I presume?” Chico was still straining against his lease. Suzanne gave a questioning look, and then cocked her head back towards Pierre.

  “es.” He said as he stared down at his orange shoe again and tried to shake the thick mud off it.

  She looked down at the shoe and grimaced. “Ach! Just leave that outside your door; we’ll get it cleaned as best we can for you. Anyway, glad you are here, we have been expecting you.” She arranged two check-in cards on the counter before him. “It took you a little longer than we had thought. Did you go over the mountain?”

  “No we took the new extension, but the rain was pounding and we had two flats! And I just fucked my shoes because your road is terrible and I stepped into a puddle. Nice ... ”

  “Oh, I am sorry for that. Samana is the rainiest province in the DR, you know … and sometimes the roads … ” He interrupted her very rudely, “I know, so I’ve heard … it was flooded. I already heard that excuse from your husband.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, surprised at his vehemence. “Well, I am truly sorry; … you want your room now. I can tell. Can I please see your passport?”

  He looked at her with disdain for a second and then shrugged and started to dig through the large bag holding his laptop. He located the passport in a front pocket and pulled it out and handed it to her. “Here is my passport.”

  “Thanks,” she says and continued, “Oh, I see you are from Santo Domingo. I lived there for years until I came to this paradise.” She quickly made a copy and handed it back to Pierre.

  He replied, now with a calmer, more settled voice, “Yes, it certainly is paradise here.” There was a refreshing breeze coming out of the North-east and he continued, “I have only been here for a few minutes, but I can tell by the palms leaning over the ocean and the lovely mountains in the distance that it certainly is paradise here. I hope to stay here a while and relax’ I've had a busy month. I had a good friend die and it really changed my life. He died in the Haitian earthquake. Perhaps it has, uh, made me edgy.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry to hear that!”

  “I know. It was terrible. He had his head smashed in by a falling concrete block.” He shook his head like a dutiful friend. “I need to relax, find some new friends, if you know what I mean?”

  “Oh, I certainly do,” she said, “God that earthquake was just so terrible. So many displaced people. Again, I am so sorry to hear about your friend.”

  “Oh thanks, it’s ok,” Pierre says, “I will always have a portion of him with me.”

  “Yes, I understand.” she consoled, “Please try to enjoy your stay with us. If there is anything you need, call us. We serve the breakfast that is included in your price until ten AM. That’s the only meal we serve, but there are tons of restaurants; many within walking distance.”

  “Got hot water? I’d really like a shower,” he said as he looked down at his ruined shoe again.

  “Yes, of course, but you may have to wait a few minutes for it to arrive. The heater is on the other side of the hotel.”

  “No problem.” Pierre said, “I’m very easy to please.”

  She smiled, but inwardly rolled her eyes. “We are so glad you are here, I wish we had a thousand guests like you. If we did, my job would be so much easier.”

  Pierre looked at her but missed the sarcasm “Oh don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  They finished the little bit of paperwork and she handed him a key on a ring with a large shell attached. Room number twelve was painted on the shell in a curlicue script. This somehow reminded him where he was. He calmed visibly and actually grinned a bit and then he lifted the shell to his head in a mock salute and turned away. As he was walking away he noticed that there appeared to be a small convention taking place at the hotel just across the gravel road he had just come in on. He turned back around and asked, “Excuse me, uh, Suzanne. Do you happen to know what is going on at the hotel next door?”

  She looked through the open window at the hotel and nodded, “I’m not really sure, but I heard there is a conference with psychologists or, maybe it is psychiatrists, or … well, I don't really know.” She squinted through a natural fence of beautiful Caribbean shrubbery as though something might hint at an answer for this discomfiting man. “I think it is doctors that work with the mentally challenged though … it seems I remember seeing a sign or reading it somewhere. And I’m pretty sure it just started this evening … I think. I had originally thought that you were here with that group. The hotel has meetings at times and we get their overflow, sometimes they get ours.”

  Pierre couldn’t believe his ears. “Interesting,” he said and turned back towards his room. “Maybe it’s show time again. Let’s see how well my new training works and my new ID. I think I will take a shower and walk over there and register for the conference. After all I'm a psychiatrist - twice now.” He shook his head, amazed at himself, but his eyes narrowed at the possibilities.

  Number twelve was towards the back of the small garden. He stepped up to the pastel painted porch. There was a small table with two chairs and a cane rocking chair sat to one side. Next to the rocker was a cramped end table piled with books. He leaned over and looked. Most were in French but there were a couple in English. All seemed to be Beach-escapism novels. He sighed and opened the louvered door to see inside. “Ah, a good bed, a hot shower … how nice. I've really been working too hard,” he muttered. He walked in and flipped on a light. An overhead fan came on at the same time. He scanned the immaculate room. It had bamboo furniture and jungle vines, leaves and birds had been painted on the colorful walls. The ceiling fan was whirling briskly now. He turned and sat in the rocker and undid his shoes, placing them on the stoop as instructed.

  32

  After a long shower Pierre got dressed, brushed
his hair and put on his last pair of clean shoes. He got his new ID’s in order, looked at his laptop and thought “I had better look through this and see if there are any photos, letters or other documents that I may have to know about in the future.”

  He hit the “on” button and walked over to the small refrigerator and grabbed a cold green bottle. He looked at the label and shrugged and then riddled through a drawer finding a cork screw with a bottle opener on the end. He popped the top and had a nice long pull, then wiped the icy bottle across his brow and sighed. “I could get used to this I think.” He spent an hour or so searching photos and personal items that he thought he might need to be aware of. After he turned off the laptop he put it on the floor and leaned it at a forty-five degree angle between the corner of the wall and the concrete floor. He stomped down hard on it and smashed it in half, destroying the screen, motherboard and the hard drive. “Yup, that should do it,” he told himself as he picked up the pieces and threw them in a small shopping bag he found under the sink.

  He carefully looked to see if anyone was watching as he tip-toed around the sloppy puddles to a dumpster just outside of the hotel entrance. He quietly put the smashed computer inside and covered the broken pieces with a wet cardboard box. Then he walked across the narrow muddy road being careful not to step into any holes.

  The hotel was similar to the one he is staying at; ubiquitous thatch roof and all; but there was a pool in the center surrounded by lounge chairs and umbrellas. The lights in the pool harmonized nicely with the ground lighting that accented the palms; tall and short. That same great breeze was gently rocking the palms and the shadows seemed to dance with the soft Caribbean beat that simmered from the open doors. A huge colorful Bougainvillea bush was trimmed to form three walls around an outdoor shower.