Key Weirder

by Robert Tacoma

  The music from an old Clint Eastwood western was roaring in his ears now. He took a sip of coffee, which showed the Texas flag on the cup to the camcorder that was taking the footage that would be sold to the highest bidder of the television networks later that morning.

  A small boy wearing a T-shirt that said, “I Love Texas” on the back, ran and hugged Julian’s knees as a groggy but defiant Julian looked over at a woman from Arizona who was taking the photograph that would become famous in a few hours.

  ♦

  The governor of Florida watched in horror as the first of the News helicopters showed the live feed of his monument on the back of a truck heading toward the southern tip of Texas. The governor had called Washington and demanded something be done to stop the truck before it reached its destination.

  ♦

  The gubernatorial elections were coming up in Texas as well, so the current and hoping-to-be-soon-re-elected governor of the Yellow Rose State ordered the Texas Highway Patrol to escort the renegade truck until any directives came in from Washington.

  ♦

  In Washington, the President was busy with a delegation from China who were being a real pain in the ass about wanting to do an above-ground nuclear weapons test, on a neighboring country.

  ♦

  State Police cars were in front and back of the truck, while a growing number of lawyers driving luxury cars and SUVs jockeyed for position behind the police escort. Several helicopters flew overhead, and there were people waving and taking pictures from alongside the road.

  Julian was fighting to keep himself awake and the truck on the road. He was less than an hour from home when he started losing tires. The tire that had taken the piece of metal blew with a sickening squeal, and he lost control of the rig. He went off on the shoulder of the road for a hundred yards and popped two trailer tires before getting back up on the highway. The troopers riding escort were suddenly wide-awake and a mini-van full of photographers that had been run off the road had to make an emergency restroom stop.

  The residents of Brownspot had heard the news and were gathering in the town square, wearing their best clothes and bearing gift baskets of food and flowers for the returning hero. A brass band rehearsed patriotic songs, and satellite news trucks from across the region frantically set up shop.

  By the time he passed through neighboring Brownsville, only a few miles from home, Julian had hundreds of cars and trucks following him, and dozens of helicopters and small airplanes buzzing overhead. The wheel bearings of the trailer were pouring black smoke, and several news organizations reporting live speculated wildly about what had caused the truck to momentarily lose control earlier.

  As an exhausted Julian slowly drove the smoking, squealing truck the last few hundred yards into the town square of Brownspot, both sides of the road were filled with cheering, waving, excited people. Children threw flowers in the path of the truck, young maidens sang heartfelt love songs, and many along the route felt overcome with emotion at the sight of the brave young man with this noble gift to his people, his family, his town, and his state.

  The heat from the burning wheel bearings had cooked the brakes, but Julian managed to stop the truck in the center of town, directly in front of the camera crews, with some help from the front half of the town barbershop.

  Thousands cheered in the streets, balloons came from everywhere, the town band played “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” like never before, and millions more watching on TV across the country were caught up in the moment.

  Julian opened the door of the truck and triumphantly raised his arms above his head before collapsing into the arms of several still-singing young maidens.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  34

  The Governor of Florida

  The Governor of Florida made little sobbing noises as he sat in front of the television with his head in his hands. An aide patted the distraught governor on the back and handed him a pillow to hug.

  “That’s all right sir, you did everything you could.” The aide knew it was a lame thing to say, but he was emotionally drained himself after four hours of watching the television coverage of the Southernmost Bandit.

  Someone turned off the television showing a disoriented but smiling young man with lipstick prints covering his face and several microphones in front of him.

  ♦

  An emergency meeting of the governor and his team followed. There was a hell of a lot of media attention out there on this thing, and so far it looked like Florida was full of nincompoops who couldn’t stop some kid from single-handedly walking off with several tons of brightly colored concrete monument.

  After several options were tossed around involving covert military action by the Florida National Guard to recover the monument, it was decided that the best plan was to focus attention on getting a new monument as soon as possible. Get the people of Florida involved. Have a telethon to raise money, maybe get schoolchildren to have a contest for the design of the new monument. Something.

  The newest member of the governor’s re-election team came up with the grabber. The tall man with flecks of gray in his short dark hair stood before the governor and his anxious aides.

  “What we need is a party, but not just any party. We need to have the biggest benefit concert in the history of the state, and we need to have it right there on the southernmost site in Key West!”

  There were nods of agreement in the room. The aide continued.

  “But first we have to get Key West cranking, wake the town up. Have them move their big blowout, Fantasy Fest, up to the same week as the concert. Then throw in the Hemingway Festival, Bike Week, maybe even a special four-day lobster season.”

  He had everyone’s full attention now.

  “Then for the Grand Finale – the benefit concert itself – we get Marty the Manatee to come out of retirement as the headliner.”

  Everyone was smiling. The Governor stood and stretched like a bear coming out of hibernation. He gave his newest aide a wink and a slap on the back.

  “That’s it people, let’s make this work! Somebody get Key West on the phone. Get some committees organizing this thing while I fly out to see Marty and get him on board.”

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  35

  Marty

  Years ago, Marty Jingles had been just another musician kicking around Key West. Once, on a drunken dare, he wore gray clothes and colored his skin and hair the same color gray. Since he had the facial features and physique pretty close already, he was a natural as Marty the Manatee. He quickly became the hottest act in Key West. Then he wrote the song.

  Tequila Breakfast became the anthem across the country for people dissatisfied with their jobs, climate, and⁄or life. The song made Marty a superstar, but he somehow managed to keep from flaming-out and kept writing songs, touring, and making money.

  After a few years he retired to a small island called Punta Margarita he picked up cheap from a struggling banana republic, and started investing in the US stock market. Since all the good causes had been spoken for, Marty launched a “Save the Bikers” campaign that brought him even greater notoriety, and helped his Harley Davidson stock soar.

  He hadn’t been to Key West recently because his popularity caused near riots anytime he was spotted in public. There were plenty of impersonators though. On any given day you could see a half dozen singing manatees on the streets and in the bars of Key West. There was even talk of having an annual festival called Marty Gras and a Look-A-Like Contest similar to the one for Hemingway.

  No doubt about it, a Marty the Manatee concert would be the biggest news since Key West seceded from the union.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  36

  Saul

  Saul called in the name he had gotten from the neighbor in Key West. LA said they needed more than “Taco Bob”, but it was a start.

  Some news: job was getting bigger. There was an additional person on the contract now, woman named Sara. Same fee
plus expenses for finding her. Agency gave a description and faxed a picture.

  Said the price was up on the little gold statue, too. Client wanted it bad all of a sudden. Extra fifteen thou to Saul for the location of the idol, thirty if it was in his hand. Told him there might be three idols out there. This kind of jack put the job in the head-busting category.

  ♦

  Got to Orlando just after dark. No bikes on the bridges coming up. Shame. Take the major highways, big job now.

  Address for a small duplex apartment. One car in the driveway, no truck or boat. Some light from a streetlamp down the road. Knocked on the door.

  “Evening ma’am. Looking for Mary Ann.”

  Young broad opened the inside door just enough to see out. Screen door still closed. She didn’t look happy.

  “She’s not here. Does she know you?”

  Saul gave her a quick flash of the badge.

  “Actually, looking for Taco Bob. Federal Bureau of Unclaimed Checks, got something here for him.” Held up an envelope.

  “You can just leave it there by the door, and I’ll give it to him if he passes by.”

  Looked like the woman wasn’t going to open the screen door to take the envelope. Talking time’s over, time to get serious.

  Busted a fist through the screen to undo the latch. Woman didn’t scream at least, just stepped back. Yanked open the screen door and started in. Something moving low. Suddenly there’s a Doberman clamped down between the legs. A lot of pain there.

  “Get ‘em, Fluffy! Rip his nuts off!”

  Woman was making some noise now.

  Getting back away from the front door with the dog biting down hard. Went for the gun, but the dog saw it. Let go the jewels to chomp the hand. Fucker sure could bite. Woman ran out with a baseball bat and started in with that. She must have played a little ball at one time. Good swing.

  Made it to the van when the dog went for a better grip. Got bit on the leg too. Woman was yelling and beating on the van with the bat. Time to get the fuck out of there.

  “Come back soon, asshole! You can meet Fluffy’s big brother!”

  Probably not. Woman obviously has some sort of problem with visitors.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  37

  Idols

  The young woman walked out on the pier and sat right down on the rough wood planks in front of his chair before speaking.

  “I wonder if you could help me. For some reason I think you can.”

  She reached inside her bag, took out a little gold figurine and handed it over. Mr. Willie looked at the strange figure in his hand, and then again at the young woman looking up at him with the calmest eyes he had ever seen. He glanced at his grandson standing on shore next to the seashell stand. Young Willie was staring out toward them. He must have seen something in the young woman as well.

  “I’m looking for one of these.”

  She held up a second figurine, identical to the first.

  “There’s a third one in the set. It may have been on a Spanish treasure ship that went down somewhere around this part of the state.”

  Mr. Willie felt a strange compassion for the young woman. He wanted to help. His years of fishing alone for days at a time had made him intensely aware of the dangers of the sea. In his years living on land, he had become aware of the dangers of the land. The land was much more dangerous – it had more people. He could read people like he used to read the waves and the wind. This little woman was being totally open with him.

  “You might want to be checking the Treasure Museum there in town, you know. Them folks got all kinds of stuff, gold and silver stuff. I imagine they got records show if something like this ever been brought in.”

  “My name is Sara. I am not the first to come here seeking the third Chacmool. There was a tall woman before me. If it was easy, she would have already found it and I wouldn’t be here now. Has anyone else asked you about this, maybe a big man? A private detective named Saul Thorpe?”

  He knew the answer, but thought about it a minute anyway.

  “No, they ain’t all that many people asking an old seashell seller about little gold statues lately.” He gave Sara a wink. “That treasure stuff, it be mostly them folks running them museums with the big boats and big money these days.”

  Mr. Willie remembered what Taco Bob said about meeting up with the old man up in the mangrove swamps.

  “You know, though, maybe I do know something here. Years ago, there be a man thought he going to find treasure that them old pirates buried somewhere along here. I thought the man be long dead by now, but I hear just a few days ago he still alive. All them other old timers along them Ten Thousand Islands got run off by them National Park people years ago. I sure don’t know that man ever find him any treasure or not, but I know he was sure looking, them many years ago.”

  There was the smallest smile in the young woman’s eyes.

  “Well, it’s a start.”

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  38

  Carol

  In one of her rare moments of weakness, Carol went back to the trailer park the next day to turn Jeremy loose. She went in armed with her knife and a big aerosol can of air freshener.

  For once, Jeremy seemed glad to see her. He started crying and thanking her as soon as she ripped the tape off his mouth.

  “Save it, Jeremy. I should just let you rot here, but I’m afraid you might get loose somehow and start telling more people about my missing property, and I’m not to the point of actually murdering you. At least not yet.”

  Carol’s anger made her momentarily forget the smell inside the trailer. Jeremy must have seen the rage in Carol’s eyes and decided to be quiet for once.

  “I want you where I can keep an eye on you.” Carol pulled the diver’s knife out of a bag and cut one of the ropes holding Jeremy’s feet. “And I must admit, you did help out with the fortune teller when we were in Key West before.”

  Jeremy’s beady little eyes lit up.

  “Before? We’re going back to Key West?”

  The cretin had nearly maxed her gold card at a topless bar the last time. Fat chance of that happening again.

  “Yes, my wormy little degenerate, we’re going back. I had planned to patiently wait here for the PIs to find the third Chacmool and bring it to me. Then I could have, in my own time, taken control over anyone I wanted.” Carol sighed and cut the other rope. “But since you ratted me out, I have to go find that skinny little bitch Sara and get my property back first.”

  Jeremy held his wrists up so Carol could unlock the handcuffs next. He started grinning at the mention of Sara.

  “I wouldn’t say skinny. She’s actually kinda- ”

  Carol dropped the key and put the big knife between Jeremy legs. Jeremy froze. Carol spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Be very careful here, my little slime slug. You don’t want to get me upset again, do you?”

  Jeremy shook his head in short little bursts. He had a very sincere look on his face.

  “So that everyone here is on the same page, Jeremy.” The knife slowly withdrew. “If you should ever come down with another case of the running stupids and tell anyone else about the Chacmools.”

  Carol threw the knife down at the mattress with all her strength. It went to the hilt between Jeremy’s legs so close he was nicked on the leg. When Carol yanked back on the knife, a big tear opened up and mattress stuffing came out.

  “We leave for the airport in an hour.”

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  39

  Paradise Revisited

  Carol and Jeremy got into Key West International about an hour after the Governor had called another press conference. This time it was held in Key West with the mayor and city council, where they went over the program of events planned for the next few days, culminating in the benefit concert for the new monument. Governor Walker proudly announced that he had just returned from a personal meeting with Marty the Manatee, and that Marty would be
headlining the concert.

  Luckily Carol had reservations at the Hilton, because within minutes of the press conference every room in Key West was booked. Carol had neglected to make reservations for Jeremy however, so while the head Witchette took a relaxing bath, Jeremy frantically searched Key West for a place to stay.

  It came down to either the last room at the Big Pelican Happy Lucky Motel, a ten-foot section of concrete drainage pipe next to the Naval Base, or a cardboard shipping box underneath the Stock Island Bridge. Though the bridge had the better view and the drainage pipe smelled the best, Jeremy went with the Big Pelican because they had cable.

  ♦

  The plan was to scope out the island, find Sara, and get the Chacmools back. Carol had contacted the PIs before she left LA and had them looking for Sara and the other two Idols as well.

  Maybe the agency’s man would come through. She could pick up all three Chacmools in Florida before returning to California and gaining total control over any living thing on the planet. That was the plan anyhow.

  By the next morning however, when Carol finally got a cab and went to pick up Jeremy, the off-season sleepiness of Key West was already shattered.

  Everywhere people were rushing around getting ready for the first parade of Fantasy Fest coming up that night. The traffic was already bumper to bumper nearly to Key Largo. Bikers, college students, fishermen with boats, tourists in rental cars and RVs, National Guard troops in military vehicles, assorted freaks and oddballs in vans and old buses, and hundreds of delivery trucks crowded the Overseas Highway.

  Every business in Key West had put in a rush order for extra everything for the big week. There were two large trucks filled with nothing but body paint and beads for Fantasy Fest. Since these two items made up the entire costume for a number of Fantasy Fest participants, the two trucks were given police escorts through the snarled traffic.