“Pete, you think you might have a bite there?”
I was grinning when all of a sudden I was in the same situation. Something mighty strong was trying to take that nice rod and reel out of my hands, and it was all I could do to hold on, pressed up against the side of the boat.
Pete finally started making some headway, and Captain Ron gaffed the big grouper, then dropped him in the boat. It wasn’t pretty, but I somehow got my fish up off the bottom and he eventually joined Pete’s fish there on the deck. We took a couple more pictures and dropped the big groupers on ice and decided to start heading back in.
Trout Stew
2 pounds trout or in a pinch you can substitute some nice big grouper fillets
2 tablespoons butter
A good shot or two of hot sauce
Juice of one large lemon or lime
One big onion, sliced
4 potatoes sliced
salt and pepper to taste
Place cleaned fish fillets in cooking pot & almost cover with water. Add potatoes, salt, pepper, butter, hot sauce & lemon juice. Place onions on top and cook over medium heat until fish is tender.
Don’t wander off looking at the women by the pool or anything because if you cook this too long the fish pieces will fall apart. Mighty fine meal for two hungry people!
∨ Key Weirder ∧
19
Chokoloskee
Chok wasn’t much as far as Saul could tell. A little island down at the end of a causeway off the southwestern part of the state. A few houses and motels, some fish camps and a marina with some boats. Not Saul’s kind of place, no action.
He pulled out the information folder from the agency out in LA. Tall, thin, middle-aged guy with a hat and a southern drawl in a white boat, probably a flats boat. Great. Saul had seen two or three guys made that just driving in. If he could find this fisherman, all he had to do was call it in and get paid. But if he found the guy he’d damn sure ask him about this little gold statue called a Chacmool he had a picture of. Maybe get paid double.
Went over to the marina and found some big sunburned stiff with a mustache. Guy was pumping gas into a boat at the dock.
“You work here, sport?”
The mustache looked up. Pretty big guy, alright.
“Yes sir, can I help you?”
Saul figured he could take him. Guy like this usually went down easy if you hit hard when he wasn’t expecting it.
“Yeah, you can help me. I’m looking for a guy. Middle-age, tan, thin, fishing hat, talks southern, in a white flats boat.”
Mustache got the joke, started smiling. Saul had more.
“Dropped off a couple of people here a while back. Man and a woman with a busted boat. He pulled them in.”
Smiling time was over, light clicked on in mustache’s head.
“You might mean the same ones the cops were asking about. The couple got a ride out of Chok with a trucker and left the boat. Guy from Key West came and claimed the boat the day after the cops were here, hauled it off. The fisherman that dropped ‘em off, he got gas and left. Hadn’t ever seen him around before, don’t know who he was. Must have been from down south, maybe Flamingo or the Keys.”
Not good. Saul needed more than this.
“You see the guy? See his boat?”
Mustache had to think about this.
“You don’t look like you’re with the cops.”
Saul got a lot of this.
“No, I’m with the Girl Scouts. This guy stiffed a little girl on a box of cookies and I’m here to bring him to justice.”
Saul flipped out his official-looking PI license in its special holder, and let his shirt come up so mustache could see the gun stuck in his waistband. The license was currently suspended, but Saul figured the gun more than made up for that little detail.
Everyone was smiling now, everyone wanted to cooperate.
“Seems like he was clean shaven, a little weathered looking. Thin guy like you said, had on sunglasses and a hat, don’t remember much else about what he looked like. Had a nice boat though. Hewes, about eighteen footer, big Mercury outboard, poling platform. Maybe two-three years old.”
“What about the other boat, the one from Key West?”
“I think it might have been a rental. Maybe twenty foot or so with a Yamaha. Just a flat bottom skiff, maybe a Carolina.”
“Thanks, citizen, you’ve been a moderate help. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
Saul gave the guy a big wink and slipped on his wraparound shades. He decided the guy was probably giving up what he had, and pistol-whipping him wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Too bad.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
20
Governor
Governor Walker called another press conference after being briefed on the motorcycle cop in the hospital. The cop had a broken leg and minor injuries after being struck with an as-yet-unknown projectile while pursuing a suspect truck.
This latest development had been leaked to the press an hour before the news conference. It was a slow news day and the press was eating it up. All day there had been reports across the state of possible sightings of the missing monument and truck. Several trucks matching the description had been spotted and numerous roadblocks, high-speed and low-speed chases had netted three separate pieces of concrete sewer pipe, a manatee sculpture headed for the Tampa Zoo, and a vintage Volkswagen on its way to Tallahassee for restoring.
The Governor appeared close to tears, but his gaze was unwavering and his head high as he extended a personal plea to each of the citizens of the great state of Florida.
“Please help our brave law enforcement officers bring these dangerous thieves to justice! We must return the monument to its rightful place so that our children, and children for generations to come will always know just where the southernmost point in the US is located!”
The Governor’s aides were jumping up and down and high-fiving each other. That evening the communications center for Operation Justifiable Outrage was swamped with calls from the toll-free number across the bottom of the picture of the emotional governor. Someone offered a reward and the calls doubled.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
21
Georgia Peach
Julian headed north into Georgia and got lost just above the Florida state line on a series of little back roads where the rusty street signs were shot so full of holes he couldn’t read the numbers.
It was almost dark when he pulled into the front yard of a little house-trailer to ask directions. He got out of the truck and realized how tired he was. An old hound dog came up to him and just stood there, so Julian scratched the dog’s head.
“I reckon you ain’t too bad if Duke ain’t gonna bark at ya.”
Julian looked up at a figure standing there on the front steps of the trailer under a lone lightbulb. It was an attractive young woman in cut-off shorts holding a toddler in one arm and a shotgun in the other.
“Come on over here fella and let me get a look at you.” Julian smiled and walked over to the light with Duke following and giving him a few sniffs for good measure.
“My name’s Julian and I’m just a little lost. I was hoping you could tell me how to get back on the road to Valdosta.” Julian got within a few feet of the young woman and stopped. She smiled a little and lowered the shotgun.
“Well, Duke seems to think you’re alright, and you look mighty fine to me. Come on in I guess, and I’ll get you something to eat.”
Julian hadn’t eaten all day. He had seconds on the fried catfish, okra, and corn bread while he learned her name was Cindy and her husband was going to be out for a while.
“My husband got him a deal for free room and board up at the state penitentiary for the next few years. While little Jessie here was still in the oven, my dear husband decided he needed money for a new truck to impress his new girlfriend, slut gal named Sharon working at the bank.
“They worked out some kinda scam to rob the bank, and
of course got their thieving asses caught. She testified against him at the trial. Serves him right.”
Cindy sighed and said she always fell for the bad boys.
Since Julian was looking a little tired, she told him he could take a shower and lie down on her bed for a while if he wanted. Cindy had the baby tucked away in his crib and was tucking Julian in and said maybe she’d just lie down there a little while too.
She sighed and said she bet Julian was up to something real bad. She could just tell.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
22
Back in LA
Carol knew something was wrong as soon as she went into her room at the mansion. Someone had been in there. She went straight to her hiding place and pulled out the box holding the Chacmools. Carol felt a bad pain in the pit of her stomach when she opened the empty box. She sat on the bed and cried a little. Two thirds of the way to having anyone or anything she wanted. Gone.
Carol pulled herself together and her grief slowly turned to rage. There was only one person in LA who even knew about the Chacmools, and that she had two of them.
Carol threw some things in a bag, then stopped at a twenty-four hour drugstore on the way to pay Jeremy a little visit.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
23
The Last Chance Trailer Park
It was after midnight when Carol slipped into Jeremy’s house trailer just outside LA. As always, she was dressed impeccably for the occasion. Black lace teddy and black fishnet stockings with matching cape to go with her black hair and accent her tall, almost too curvy figure. Carol was hot. She was also extremely pissed.
With a black zippered bag in her hand, a riding crop under her arm, and a big diver’s knife strapped to her leg, she moved purposefully through the cramped trailer.
The smell of dirty socks and long unwashed dishes were the predominate odors. The only light came from the bedroom, so Carol moved quietly and had a look.
It was kind of cute the way Jeremy was propped up in bed fast asleep snoring with his mouth open and a line of drool running down to his dirty undershirt. He had an empty beer can in one hand, his other hand under the spotted sheet down between his legs. The television screen was the only light in the room. It was all snow from where a videotape had run out. Carol ejected the tape – Chicks with Dicks #6.
Carol spent a moment taking in the sight of the nephew of the man once thought to hold the key to the Knowledge of the Ancient Shamans of Mexico, and then went to work. She opened the bag she’d brought and laid things out on the floor, including a pair of heavy rubber gloves.
She slipped a pair of handcuffs on each of his wrists and carefully locked Jeremy’s arms to the headboard. He was starting to come around, so Carol quickly pulled the sheet off and tied each ankle to a bedpost, leaving Jeremy spread-eagle and sputtering awake.
“Fuck is going on? Carol, what the fuck are you doing?”
She could see Jeremy was going to be a bother with this line of questioning, and Carol wasn’t ready for him to be talking just yet. Maybe a good one to the forehead with the heavy flashlight to knock him out.
“Ouch! Jesus H Fucking Christ! Fuck that hurt! Stop that shit, Carol!”
Carol couldn’t believe he didn’t go out, it always worked in the movies. She gave him a couple more pops with the flashlight.
“Ow! Stop that shit! Ow! Stop it Carol, that hurts!”
Little bastard sure had a hard head. Carol was momentarily perplexed.
“Well, then hold still while I put this tape on your mouth, or you’ll get more of the same!”
Jeremy immediately shut up and Carol slapped a piece of duct tape across his mouth. She couldn’t help but notice this version of Jeremy didn’t come with any pants, just an undershirt. She stood at the foot of the bed and took a little poke at Jeremy’s pubes with the end of her whip.
“What’s this supposed to be? Looks like something really small and furry crawled up there and died. Smells like it too.”
Carol made a face and Jeremy started to sweat and wiggle around. He was trying to say something behind the tape.
“What’s the matter cretin, gotta go pee pee?”
She gave a concerned look and Jeremy started nodding his head and moaning.
“Well, you should have thought of that before we left the house, young man!”
Carol brought her leg up and slowly pulled the knife out of the sheath strapped to her calf. Jeremy’s eyes got big.
“Don’t go away, I’ll be right back!”
Carol went into the living room while Jeremy made a lot of noise thrashing around on the bed and moaning. A minute later the Head Witchette peeked around the doorway with a big smile on her face.
“Look what I found!”
A lamp cord with the plug still on one end dangled from her hand. Carol came back into the room using the knife to strip away insulation from the other end. It was time to put on the rubber gloves.
“Let’s see if we can jump-start whatever that little thing is between your legs. ’k?”
She plugged the cord into the wall outlet by the bed and held the end with the bare wires close to the target area. Jeremy was frozen still with fear, his threatened genitalia seemed to be retracting. Carol made a little feint jab and Jeremy shrieked behind the tape.
“Got something to tell me, hot-shot? Something about some of my property?”
Another little jab that came short. Jeremy jumped and started nodding his head frantically.
The tape came off with a sickening sound. The bare wires accidentally grazed Jeremy’s protruding stomach, and the little man jumped and shrieked again, this time without the tape.
Carol looked concerned.
“Oopsie! That was a freebie I guess. Want some more?”
She dangled the wire down low again. Jeremy was close to tears.
“Sara. I told Sara about them, about the Chacmools. She’s the only one I told, I swear!” Carol had to think about this. Sara was the most resourceful of the Witchettes, and also the best at lucid dreaming. This was looking real bad.
“Why did you tell her, you little shit?” Carol was livid. “Why her, of all people?”
Jeremy smiled shyly.
“I thought if I told her she might be, you know, grateful. And want to show me how much she was grateful.”
Carol went red in the face and her hands were shaking with rage.
“You sold me out so you could get laid?”
The former owner of two Chacmools let out a yell and jammed the electrical cord between Jeremy’s legs as hard as she could. Jeremy screamed as his body jerked up once before a fuse blew and everything went dark.
Carol found the flashlight and checked to make sure she hadn’t killed the little vermin bastard. He’d fainted and wet the bed. A wisp of smoke was coming from between his legs, but otherwise he was fine.
She left him tied up and put the tape back on his mouth. Needed to make a mental note to come back and untie him in a couple days.
∨ Key Weirder ∧
24
Sara
When Charlie Spider died, Sara took it the hardest. She’d been with Charlie for several years and had grown to depend on him to tell her what to do. She’d never been anything special before hooking up with Charlie and felt lost without him. Just another average-looking girl trying to figure out what to do with herself. She had calm brown eyes and mousy brown hair that never looked quite right. In spite of having a decent figure, the quiet young woman was otherwise so plain no one ever noticed her.
Charlie’s sometimes-strange sexual needs took priority, but everyone at the mansion was trained in more practical things as well. Some of the women practiced various martial arts, or studied acting or homeopathy. Others, like Carol, took managerial classes.
Sara studied karate. Charlie also sent her to the East Coast several times for training in the art of tracking and stalking, and she was good. It was nothing for her to go into Carol’s room and find the hiding spot for
the Chacmools. There was a pattern to the faint dust on the floor that clearly showed Carol’s normal movements. Sara could see the difference in the way the dust was moved near the wall. The loose panel above the window was a little high for her, she wasn’t as tall as Carol, but she managed to pull the box with the idols out with no problem.
♦
With Charlie gone, Sara had spent days wandering around the Mansion and the grounds, looking for something, but she didn’t know what. She watched a lot of television, something she hadn’t done in years. The other women had always acted as if she was a little off, and Sara becoming even more introverted than usual didn’t seem to be helping.
She latched onto the Food Channel and soon immersed herself in cooking. She cooked huge meals for the other women, and was always experimenting with something new. Before long she had gained another skill and ten pounds. Then the dreams began.
Charlie came to her in ordinary dreams, then in frighteningly real lucid dreams. The image of Charlie was clear, but she could never make out what he was saying.
She lost her appetite for food, but not for cooking. Before long Sara had lost the extra weight, but the dreams were causing her to slip into a deep depression. She was adrift.
The little lecherous guy who was supposed to be Charlie’s nephew ate some of her leftover quiche once, and after that started hanging around the mansion whenever Carol was gone.
“Hey Sara, I heard somebody saying you have dreams about my dear dead uncle. He tell you any secrets in those dreams?”
“No, he talks to me, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. You know, Carol said she doesn’t want you hanging around here, maybe you should leave.”
“Carol can go take a flying leap. Hey, I know a little secret. It’s about dreaming and my uncle in fact. Maybe we can work something out here.”
Key Weirder Page 5