R.P. Gannon - Barney, Willey and Oscar 01 - Geezer Paradise

by R. P. Gannon

  “I’ll use the sleeping bag,” Willey volunteered. “If Barney has to sleep on the floor he’ll be doing his Kabuki dance again.”

  Sofie and Snydely looked to me for an explanation.

  “My back sometimes goes out on me,” I explained. Actually, it wasn’t my back. It was my hips. And they didn’t go out on me, it was arthritis. But I didn’t want to explain. I didn’t want Sofie to think I was an invalid. We all settled down at the cabin’s table.

  “In the morning we’ll go out looking for Flaherty again,” Sofie said. “He’s hiding, so he might not want to go traveling around a lot. He might be recognized. Besides, he seems to want to kill all of you, and he probably won’t leave the area until he gets what he wants. He’ll probably stay right around here and keep out of sight. He’ll know there’s no one living at my house, and since he knows we saw him at Spiro’s, he’ll be looking for us in that area. But the only way we can find him is by finding his boat.

  Sofie took Oscar’s hand. “Come on, Oscar. It’s past your bedtime. You guys should get some sleep, too. It might be a long day tomorrow.” A little while later we all turned in for the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I WOKE UP for the last time about 8: am. Every time a boat went by, the cabin cruiser rocked from side to side. I don’t know how people can sleep on a boat that keeps moving all night. I guess it’s something you have to get used to. When we were all up and dressed—we didn’t bother to shave—Sofie said we could have breakfast at Alex’s, where boats pull up and have breakfast.

  She said, “They have an outdoor patio where people can bring their dogs, so Oscar won’t be a problem.” We untied the boat and headed to Alex’s with Sofie at the wheel. Fifteen minutes later we were docked and sitting at a table on Alex’s outdoor patio. It was a stone patio that rose up out of the water. At one time it must have been a wharf. The outdoor tables had brightly colored umbrellas coming out of their middle. There were a few dogs there but Oscar was a minor celebrity. He got lots of smiles.

  The food was excellent. After we ate we got back on the boat and went searching for Flaherty again. We went back up to the canal house. Flaherty’s boat was gone. No surprise there.

  “My guess is he’s hiding at one of the islands,” Sofie said. “He’s probably waiting for us to return to the house so he can shoot at us again.” We headed for the nearest island and slowly circled it. Nothing. Then we moved on to the next island and did the same—with the same result. We continued this process as we moved down river. Finally we reached the last island before Sofie’s house. Sofie slowly circled the island. “If he’s not here,” Sofie said, “then there’s nothing more we can do on the water. Then I think we should drive around to the bars and check them out.”

  Sofie asked Snydely, “Does he have a habit of drinking in the morning?”

  “Morning, noon, and night,” Snydely said. We were coming out from behind the last island when Sofie said, “There’s a boat in the bushes over there!” She pointed. The boat was well hidden from view by the bushes lining the shoreline, but we could see it was a large cabin cruiser. My heart was beating like a bongo drum. It seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

  As we idled past, Flaherty came charging out of the bushes at full throttle. We hadn’t counted on that. We thought we would find him and sail off to call for help.

  “Hang on,” Sofie yelled, and pulled the throttle all the way back. Our boat’s prow rose up as we tore through the water. I held Oscar’s hand.

  Sofie yelled, “If he comes out of the cabin to shoot at us, we’ll turn and circle him so he won’t be able to get a clear shot at us. But instead of trying to shoot us, Flaherty charged straight at us. We hadn’t counted on that, either. He was going to ram us! Flaherty had to know he’d be killed if he rammed us. Evidently he didn’t care. Sofie tried to outrun him, but he had a lot more horsepower than we did. That was another thing we hadn’t planned on. We were in trouble.

  Flaherty got so close we could see him at the wheel, chugging from a bottle, and laughing like a mad man—with the emphasis on mad. He pulled off in a wide arc until he was forty feet off our port side, no need to hurry now. He knew he had us. Then he came at us at full speed to ram us broadside. We shot at him as he came closer, but with pistols, and the boat bouncing, we weren’t accurate enough.

  When Flaherty was ten feet away Sofie pulled the wheel hard to the right, and spun the prow around. Flaherty went whizzing past us, missing us by inches. Sofie was completing the turn so we could run for shore when we started to slow down. Then we came to an abrupt stop, which threw us all onto the deck. We had run aground on a sandbar!

  Sofie threw the engine into reverse and gunned it, trying to break the boat loose from the grasping sand that held us—we were stuck solid. Flaherty had turned and was heading for us again, but as he got closer, and he realized we had run aground, he slowed down. He didn’t have to ram us, he could just pick us off one by one. Sofie was talking on the radio, no doubt calling for help.

  Flaherty came closer and I fired a shot at him. He reversed engines and came to a stop. Sofie came out of the cabin with a rifle. I could have kissed her.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “Every boater keeps a rifle on board in case somebody pulls in a shark. And it looks like we pulled in a big shark.” Sofie raised the rifle and shot out the left front window of Flaherty’s boat. Now that we were grounded our boat was perfectly still, while Flaherty’s cruiser was still bobbing up and down. With the rifle, we had the advantage. Flaherty hit the deck, then he popped his head up over the rail and fired at us. Oscar spun around and fell on the deck!

  “Oscar!” Snydely yelled, and ran to help him.

  “Is he hurt bad?” Sofie yelled. Snydely was busy wrapping his belt around Oscar’s leg to make a tourniquet. “It’s his leg,” Snydely yelled. I could hear Oscar whimpering in pain. I was furious. I turned toward Flaherty and emptied my gun at him, and then realized I hadn’t brought any more ammunition. Smart. So far we had done everything wrong. But Sofie still had the rifle.

  Willey was taking shots at Flaherty. Sofie was taking her time, firing only when she could see Flaherty and had a chance of bringing him down.

  I borrowed Snydely’s gun while he was taking care of Oscar. “Did you bring any extra ammunition?” I asked Snydely. Snydely shook his head. Another genius.

  “Barney,” Sofie yelled. “Go below and look for ammunition for the rifle!”

  What? She was as bad as we were, running out of ammunition. I dived into the cabin as bullets whizzed overhead. I searched every cupboard, shelf, and drawer, and then I found it. A box of ammunition. I grabbed it and ran back to Sofie’s side. I paid no attention to how light the box of ammunition was.

  “Here,” I yelled, and handed the box to her.

  “Good,” she said. “I was down to my last shot.” She opened the box, and we both stared down at one single, solitary, bullet. Sofie took it out and shoved it into the side of the rifle. “Help better come soon,” she said.

  Flaherty kept shooting at us, most of his shots went flying harmlessly overhead. From time to time we could see him swigging from the bottle. I checked on Oscar. His eyes were glazed over and his breathing was shallow. He was going onto shock. I crawled into the cabin and found a blanket. I gave it to Snydely and he put it over Oscar to keep him warm. He kept patting Oscar gently on the head, telling him he’d be alright. By the time I got back to Sofie and Willey, Flaherty was moving in for the kill.

  “This is my last shot,” Sofie said, and fired at Flaherty. We were grounded solid, but Flaherty’s boat was bobbing around so much we couldn’t get a good shot at him. Sofie’s bullet hit close enough to Flaherty to make him jump, but he kept coming. I fired a shot at him with Snydely’s pistol, but I couldn’t get any accuracy.

  Flaherty knew we were low on ammunition because we were saving our shots. He was going to have his revenge. In the silence that followed I noticed the radio was
chattering away. I crawled back into the cabin and picked up the mic. I squeezed the button, “Hurry,” I yelled. “He’s coming to kill us!” The radio broke into an explosion of voices, all of them talking at once.

  Then I heard it … a boat horn sounding in the distance. I looked through the blown-out front windows. There were three sponge boats racing our way.

  Flaherty took another shot at us, and rifle shots from the oncoming sponge boats answered his. Help was on thy way, but they were still too far out. Could we stay alive until they arrived?

  I rushed back to Sofie and Willey. “Look,” I yelled, “Over to the left.”

  “We saw them,” Willey said. “But how do we hold Flaherty off until they get here?”

  “I have five shots left in Snydely’s gun,” I said. I rushed back to the rail and fired two shots at Flaherty. He stopped for a second, then he started toward us again. I fired three more shots, and one of Flaherty’s front windows exploded. That made him stop again. Sofie went into the cabin. When she came out she was carrying a flare-gun and a box of flares. Before she could get back to us, Flaherty fired again. Sofie was thrown to the deck. She was hit! I crawled over to her, she had been hit in her right arm.

  “Use the flares,” she said. I grabbed the flare gun and the flares and tossed them to Willey. Then I untied my shoelaces, and used them and the barrel of my empty, useless, gun to make a tourniquet.

  “You’ll be alright,” I said.

  Sofie put her hand over mine. “I’ll be okay. Go help Willey. I’ll take care of this.” She tightened the tourniquet. “I’m sorry I got all of you into this mess.”

  “It’s the other way around,” I said. “We were the ones who got you into our mess.” As I reached Willey he fired a flare at Flaherty. That was all we had left to fight with. It flew over Flaherty’s head … he was on us. At this range he couldn’t miss, drunk or not. Willey fired another flare. Flaherty had to scramble to grab it and throw it overboard.

  Flaherty was so drunk he was staggering. If he were sober we would all be dead by now. The horns from the oncoming sponge boats were louder. I looked their way. They were almost on us. Flaherty saw them at the same time and lowered his rifle. He could outrun the big lumbering sponge boats, but he would have to leave before they arrived. He stood motionless for a second, trying to decide whether to kill us or run—then he saw Snydely.

  “Snydely, you bastard,” Flaherty screamed, and raised his rifle. Before he could pull the trigger three rifle shots rang out from the sponge boats. Flaherty went down—and lay dead on the deck of his boat. The men on the sponge boats lowered their rifles.

  The sponge boats then surrounded us. Two men jumped onto our deck. They went to Sofie. “Are you hurt bad, Sofie?” One of them asked. Sofie tried to smile, but she couldn’t quite make it.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Please, go help Oscar.” The men looked around. I pointed at Oscar. One of them went to look after Oscar. A siren sounded behind us. It was the Coast Guard. They pulled up alongside, and one of the officers came aboard and took charge. I saw two Coast Guardsmen board Flaherty’s boat. A little while later they covered Flaherty with a sheet. A minute later we heard the whap, whap, whap, of the medic helicopter overhead. It lowered a basket-like stretcher down to us, and we gingerly put Sofie into it and strapped her in.

  The basket was raised and she disappeared inside the helicopter. A minute later the empty basket was lowered again. This time they put Oscar into it, and he too, disappeared into the helicopter. The chopper turned and raced over the water toward the nearest hospital. Flaherty didn’t need any medical attention—they would tow his boat and his body back to shore. More Coast Guardsmen were aboard by then. The boat was packed with people all talking at once.

  I sat down heavily in the stern of the boat and watched the rescue chopper disappear from view. I said a silent prayer for those aboard.

  Epilogue

  TWO DAYS LATER we were back in the park. We were home. Sofie was back in her own house, recuperating, and Oscar was home with a bandage on his leg. We were stunned to find a half-dozen dead snakes on Willey’s kitchen floor. The heat must have killed them, but who put them there.

  “Imagine that,” Willey said. “Flaherty must have had someone dump those snakes in here through that slashed screen. That guy tried everything he could think of to scare us out of here.

  Willey said, “I think that yellow and red snake might have been poisonous.” We had picked up the deceased critters from the floor and threw them into the garbage can in the carport. Then we sat out in Willey’s carport drinking coffee. Oscar had developed a taste for coffee. We got him his own mug.

  Sofie was doing well. Eduardo had taken a week off to nurse her back to health. I had been up there to visit her. When she’s fully recovered she wants me to take her to a Bobby Vinton concert. I told her I’d take her anyplace she wanted to go. We had a pillow under Oscar’s bandaged leg. We were all just sitting around resting from our ordeal.

  Flaherty would be lowered into his grave the day after tomorrow. His wife would probably throw a party. His company is out of business. Suddenly, Snydely couldn’t wait to testify against Senator Buckland and Stevens. He wanted them put away for life. I did, too. Snydely comes by to visit me and Willey, but mostly he comes by to visit Oscar. They’ve become buddies. Snydely says he will lose his license to practice law when he testifies. He was given immunity in return for his testimony, but he has to admit to breaking some laws. He’s been asking Eduardo to hire him as an undercover investigator. Eduardo is looking into the legality of it, since Snydely is part of the ongoing Flaherty-Buckland case.

  Senator Buckland was in an unnamed rehab. It wasn’t his fault—he had a poor childhood. Stevens was cooling his heels in jail, waiting to go on trial for Freddy’s murder.

  The shooting of Flaherty by the sponge boaters was deemed a necessary action. No charges were filed. The Attorney General made a special trip to Tarpon Springs to personally thank the Sponge Boaters.

  Willey told the park residents that Oscar had single handedly saved the park from destruction by Flaherty. Supposedly Oscar jumped onto Flaherty’s boat under heavy gunfire, climbed onto the boat’s roof, and dropped down onto Flaherty’s head just before Flaherty shot us all. The park residents decided to let Oscar stay with us. Many of the old dears come by and hug him. Oscar, being the ham he is, eats it up.

  Mary was still in the hospital, but she was back to her old self, trading barbs with Willey. She was looking forward to going home next week. We gave her back her cell phone and thanked her for all of her help. We also gave her fifty dollars to cover the cost of getting the new phone.

  Willey has since bought a new cell phone, and his hair was slowly turning back from brown to white. He looked stranger than ever. Sofie’s friend’s shot up boat was covered by insurance. Professor Crumby had come to the conclusion that the Indian artifacts found in the park were collected farther south, and the park land was not, after all, an historic site. Eddie the Egret strutted by looking for food. All was right with the world.

  Willey’s cell phone rang. It was Eduardo. Willey asked Eduardo how Sofie was. “Sofie’s doing fine,” Willey repeated to me. “She sends her love and wants us to give Oscar a big kiss for her.”

  “I’ll let you handle that,” I said.

  Then Willey said, “Eduardo wants to know if we’re ready for another assignment?” I looked at Willey and shook my head, no. Willey nodded in agreement.

  “Thanks for the offer, Eduardo,” Willey said. “But we’re retiring from the detective business. We’ve decided we’re too old for that kind of work.” Willey said a few more “Uh huhs.” And then, “That’s good news, Eduardo. Give our best to Sofie … Bye.”

  Willey said, “An anonymous employee of Flaherty’s sent the Attorney General a copy of Flaherty’s real books. If Flaherty hadn’t been killed, he’d be heading to jail for a long time for tax evasion. Oh, and Eduardo is sending us our paychecks.” That was good ne
ws because we were broke. Jim and Alice Wilson across the street needed a new roof after the hurricane, and didn’t have enough money for it. Alice is confined to a wheelchair from arthritis. I could relate to that. They’re good people. The reason they didn’t have enough money for the roof was, they were always helping out others in the park.

  Willey and I got together and paid for the roof. That cleaned us out. Except for those last checks that were coming we were back living in genteel poverty again. I had sent my article on Weeki Wachee to John at the Tampa Sun, but I hadn’t heard back from him yet. Maybe it would come through, but I didn’t want to rush him.

  Willey said, “You know, Barney, we’re sure going to miss that money.”

  “I know, Willey. I was just thinking the same thing. But I won’t miss the rest of it.”

  “I don’t know,” Willey said. “It was kind of fun, wasn’t it?” I crumpled up my paper napkin and bounced it off Willey’s forehead.

  “No,” I said. “It wasn’t.” It would be just like him to volunteer us for another job. Willey just grinned at me. Sometimes he makes me nervous.

  I stayed at Willey’s place until around midnight. Then I decided to go home. I said goodnight to Willey and Oscar, and headed for the door. Just as I was about to turn the doorknob I heard a faint scratching sound coming from the other side of the door. I gave the door a hard shove outward, our doors open outward, and felt it hit someone. Then I heard somebody yelp. I snapped on the outside light.

  A scrawny old man with a long, white beard, and farmer’s overalls was lying on the driveway. It wasThomas, the old guy who owned the farm next to the park. On his chest was a bloody, white chicken carcass. I called for Willey to help me, and we went outside together. As soon as Willey saw the old man he said, “Thomas, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I aint doin’ nothin’,” Thomas squeaked. “I was jest walkin’ by when the door hit me.”