by Tom Corcoran
Sam carried a booze-heavy paper sack. “We’re celebrating a transition,” he said, “if that’s the word I want. Marnie got called on the carpet today.”
Looking glum and afraid, Marnie shrugged. “We’re looking, or trying to look, at the positive side of things.”
I did not want to hear this news. If Sam and Marnie were leaving the island, they would create a huge gap in my life. Their friendship would never disappear, but their companionship would take the form of twice-annual road or business trips. Sam had been my primary source of strength and sanity and laughs. He had given direction to my soul-searching, pulled me through a lot of crap. Marnie had tolerated our antics, our ventures to the edge of peril. She and Beth had found a trusting friendship.
I waited for the bomb.
“The best way to describe the change,” said Sam, “is that Marnie’s been asked to cut down on her reporting tasks, as such.”
“Such what?” I said.
“The publisher and my boss sat me down this afternoon,” said Marnie.
“Get to it,” said Sam. “You’ll have to admit this fifty times in the next week.”
Marnie bit her lower lip, radiated worry, then smiled. “I’ve been promoted to assistant managing editor. It’s pretty good. The managing editor gets stuck with a lot of meet-and-greets, club luncheons, that kind of thing. I get to run the newsroom.”
Sam pulled three bottles of Perrier-Jouët champagne from the bag, and I heard Beth’s Ducati roar away from the light at Grinnell, then turn into the lane.
“Perfect time and reason for a celebration,” I proclaimed.
“Time, yes,” said Sam. “The real reason is that Marnie got a book deal and the newspaper okayed it.”
“I thought non-fiction required visual proof of truth and all that,” I said. “How can you sell a book without pictures?”
“Some of yours weren’t bad,” said Marnie, “as you saw on the front page today. I dug up old mug shots on everyone but Christi Caldwell. I’ve been assured a copy of hers, too. All I have to do now is sit on my personal-time ass and write.”
“What about those two small planes over The Tideline?”
“They weren’t shooting stills. They shot video only. One guy had incorrect camera settings, and the other got 14 seconds on TV once an hour for less than one day. That was it. The story wasn’t the building, it was inside.”
We celebrated and ate things that used to swim and raised toasts to Marnie’s new job and Beth’s having scored two major arrests in five minutes. It came down to four full bellies, eight bare feet and eight droopy eyes.
“I haven’t even left my house,” I said, “and today has been a perfect day.”
“What’s on your schedule for this evening?” said Beth.
“A personal investigation of police tactics.”
“Aren’t you supposed to wait an hour after eating?”
Sam looked away to mask a grin while Marnie called a taxi to take them home.
While we cleaned up enough to discourage an infestation of insects, I asked Beth if she had learned anything more from Christi Caldwell.
“Start with this fact. Christi and one of her several lovers, a Canadian post office employee, invented the check scam. Emerson Caldwell was their ‘coordinator,’ as she termed it. They recruited Robert Fonteneau, another of her boyfriends, because he had trucks crossing the U.S.-Canadian border both ways on a regular schedule. It worked for over two years.”
“That FBI man, Max Saunders, said that his crew had seen Emerson and Ocilla Ramirez in a bank parking lot,” I said. “If she was running checks for him, why didn’t they meet in his condo?”
“It was when Emerson and Christi and Fonteneau first discovered that Ocilla and Greg Pulver were starting to steal as much money as possible. The housekeepers had big plans to bolt, leave the country. But they got stupid about small things like not paying the condo rent and cable bill in Emerson’s place. If Marsh hadn’t killed Pulver first, Fonteneau would have done the job.”
“Marsh killed the wrong man and screwed up the larger scam,” I said.
“He blew two scams,” said Beth. “Christi and Fuck No planned to push Emerson out of the check-cashing scam so they could take over everything.”
“Teresa Barga died for screwing around. Harsh penalty.”
“Are you okay?” said Beth. “You knew her quite a while.”
“Her death opened up a few memories,” I said. “There were good moments, certainly a few bad ones. I don’t miss the relationship. Memories are for sharing, but I can’t imagine that she and I would ever have reminisced. Memories for one person are like a slow, bluesy electric guitar melody without even a hint of reverb.”
Beth’s phone buzzed.
“I’ve got to take this call. It’s Chief Salesberry, probably calling to congratulate me.”
“I’m going to go out back for three minutes.”
“Okay,” she said. “I took a shower before I rode over here.”
When I walked back into the house, clean and nearly sobered by the evening air, Beth was off the phone. She was standing in the kitchen in her underwear eating an Entenmann’s raspberry danish twist. A dot of sugar was on her upper lip.
“Plans for the rest of the night?” I said, stealing the sugar with my tongue.
“Have we dated before?”
“I’m Alex. You don’t remember?”
“Yes, but I still need to check your user name and password. Make sure this is a valid approach.”
“How about I show you my love when the towel drops,” I said.
She wagged the danish at me. “You will show me better if it gets snagged and doesn’t fall.”
“When confronted with pastry, I’ve been known to eat the muffin top first.”
Beth said, “Not tonight, mister.”
The End
Author’s Afterword
If you enjoyed this book, you may wish to read the previous Alex Rutledge mystery, “Hawk Channel Chase,” also available as an ebook. Alex’s circle of friends again proves invaluable in dealing with bottom feeders and in sorting out layers of facts and lies.
Also available in ebook form is a collection of three stories titled “Triple in Paradise.” While Alex Rutledge takes a break in these, the action takes place in Key West, Miami and the Upper Keys.
About the Author
Tom Corcoran is a photographer and former journalist and the author of the Alex Rutledge novels set primarily in Key West. He has created “Key West in Black and White,” a book of retrospective Key West images; and “Key West Point of View,” a collection in DVD format of over 400 recent color photographs of the island. Acoustic guitar and steel pan background music was created for the 40-minute DVD by musicians John Frinzi and John Patti.
A resident of the Florida Keys for fifteen of his thirty-five years in Florida, Corcoran was an early collaborator with Jimmy Buffett, providing photos for seven of his album and CD packages and lyrics for the songs “Fins” and “Cuban Crime of Passion.”
Corcoran’s photographs and articles have appeared in Rolling Stone, Southern Boating, Cruising World, Car & Driver, Esquire, Look and Outside. For seven years Corcoran edited Mustang Monthly, a magazine for restorers of classic Ford Mustangs.
In addition to continuing the Alex Rutledge Series, Corcoran has co-written song lyrics for several recent John Frinzi CD releases.
Also by the Author
The Alex Rutledge Series
The Mango Opera
Gumbo Limbo
Bone Island Mambo
Octopus Alibi
Air Dance Iguana
Hawk Channel Chase
The Quick Adiós (Times Six)
OTHER TITLES BY TOM CORCORAN
Key West in Black and White
Jimmy Buffett—The Key West Years
Key West Point of View (Photo DVD)
Dedication and Thank Yous
For Martha Corcoran and Carolyn C. Inglis
For
assistance, support, wisdom and time,
I offer my heartfelt thanks to:
Katie Wagner Lockwood, Elsie and Jerry Metcalf,
Marty Corcoran, Carolyn Inglis, Dinah George,
Nan Kitchens, Nancy Harris, Les and Dona Bernier,
Eric Christensen, Peter and Sheila Badal, Cathy Keller,
Richard Badolato, Franette Vaughn, Mike Eden,
John and Laurel Boisonault, Doyle Smith,
Margo and John Frinzi, Alan and Cindy Bickford,
Bob Cruse, Brian Bradley, Ammie Machan,
the Eden House Hotel…
and Stuart Kaminsky.
Copyright Info
THE QUICK ADIOS (TIMES SIX). Copyright 2012 by Tom Corcoran. All Rights Reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Dredgers Lane, LLC.
ISBN: 978-0-9844566-2-8
Cover photograph © 2011 Tom Corcoran
Author Photograph © 2012 John Frinzi
Dredgers Lane, LLC
PO Box 5828
Lakeland FL 33807
Visit the author’s Web site at www.tomcorcoran.net