Florida Key

by Neil Watson

  And there was another part of the note that now made more sense. The third sentence from the end; ‘You know what I was like, but you see, they had the right man all along.’

  “You know what I was like . . .”, I repeated to myself. That must have been a reference to Mitori being aware of Yushi’s tendency to make up stories. But in this case, it hadn’t been a story.

  So, surely it had to be Yushi who’d done it. It had to have been Yushi who’d killed Sandy Beach in cold blood. Yushi’s so-called ‘false’ confession note to his sister, MJ, wasn’t false at all. It was the plain truth.

  ‘. . . but you see, they had the right man all along’, I read again. Yes, I reluctantly concluded that they had.

  With a heavy heart I pondered my next move. The biggest concern now was how to respond to Mitori’s letter. I couldn’t possibly send her a copy of Yushi’s full confession, let alone return to America to try and retrieve the original for her. It would surely upset her far too much, and in my opinion she must have suffered enough already. After careful consideration, I concluded the best thing was to let sleeping dogs lie. After all, Mitori had posted her letter to me several months ago. She must have thought by now that it had never reached me—or that she’d given up all hope of receiving a reply.

  I had, until this moment, been thinking that Yushi had become something of a posthumous friend; a troubled friend, that my $17 purchase from a flea-market had led me to. And I’d almost decided to dedicate this book, the book that tells the story of my Florida Key, ‘In Memory of Yushi’.

  But how could I possibly do that, if he was Sandy Beach’s killer?

  I couldn’t help thinking, wanting to think, that I’d perhaps got things wrong. That Ozborn had been the killer all along, instead of Yushi. Perhaps it was more likely that I would never know absolutely for sure what really happened on that fateful day in 1981. Or perhaps one day I would return to do some more digging, and come to a different conclusion, maybe in Yushi’s favour.

  There I’d go again: wishful thinking. I decided to stop tormenting myself about something I couldn’t alter. The facts were the facts; Sandy Beach had been murdered. Rightly or wrongly, Yushi Yakamoto had been found guilty.

  Enough was enough. I had a book to bring out. And a girl who I was in love with who I’d be marrying next year.

  I decided to forget about what had happened in the past, and to concentrate on what was going to happen in the future.

  Oliver Markland

  Wivenhoe

  2018

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Neil Watson

  In 1981, bored beyond words with my job, I decided to pack my bags and go. The day after my 21st birthday, I found myself sitting on a Laker Airways jet, bound for Los Angeles. In the hold was my trusty racing bike that I’d had for my 13th birthday. Two years earlier, I had ridden it across France, so I felt confident that, with L.A. to New York being only four times the distance, cycling from one coast to the other shouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t. Once I’d exited the sliding doors at Los Angeles airport and asked a stranger in the street, “Which way is New York?”, the journey became a game-changer for me, and I often wonder how differently my life might have turned out had it not been for Freddie Laker and his no-frills ticket price that I could just about afford.

  Thirty-seven years later, I’m glad to say I’m still in touch with some of the warmest and kindest people I could have met on that journey. One of them, Chase Kimball, who I met in Salt Lake City, gave invaluable help with this book. His attention to detail is to be commended. When I sent him an early draft of Florida Key, he soon came back with observations like: “They didn’t have Marlboro Lights back then–just Marlboro Unfiltered”, and “‘Burger and chips’–Americans don’t talk like that. It would be ‘burgers and fries’.”

  My own journey across the States inspired me to write about a fictional bike ride. Half way along a straight 500-mile stretch in Kansas, I met a Japanese guy also cycling solo but in the opposite direction. It was quite surreal, standing in the middle of nowhere with only our bikes and rucksacks. I’m sure he wasn’t a potential murderer. Even so, I thought I’d best not use his real name in the book. I recently attempted to track him down through social media, but to no avail. So, if anyone knows the whereabouts of Yoshichika Shida, please get in touch.

  Later, my working career comprised a succession of jobs in sales, marketing, and publishing. I had a stint in the music business, championing two great musicians, one of whom went on to international stardom, the other developing huge respect as a world-class singer-songwriter whose silky-smooth voice can tear your heartstrings with a single note. Nowadays, when I’m not busy authoring, I’m decorating. It’s the ideal environment in which to conjure up my next novel’s sub-plot, while watching the paint dry.

  Fast forward to the present: In France, I had a wake-up call. A friend asked me what I did. I replied with the usual ‘painter and decorator’ answer, with the footnote ‘and I also write’. She wisely went on to enquire: “But are you a painter who writes, or a writer who paints? It’s not what you do to earn a living, it’s what’s in your soul.”

  So, on that basis, I can now include ‘writer’ in my list of jobs.

  My wife, Jane is a brilliant artist (www.janewatsonart.com) who does gardening (not a gardener who does art). My daughter, Laura has more talent as an illustrator in her little finger than she knows, and my son, Oliver, whose computer skills overtook mine when he was 15, is currently exploring Asia and Japan. Probably meeting as many warm and kind people as I did when I was his age.

  I have many interests and several passions. My interests include our ancient motorhome we call Tallulah (it’s a 1978 Hymer on a Bedford CF chassis, in case you’re interested), food and wine appreciation (particularly enjoying a full-bodied Corbières), writing a blog (search ‘a boat for my potplants’) and listening to music on a good hi-fi (especially vinyl–thank goodness they’re all the rage again).

  Passions include my lovely poor man’s classic, a 1968 Fiat Coupé (1438cc, 4-speed, right-hand-drive, and only a few left now), the life and music of Harry Nilsson (Harry who? You know. ‘Without You’, ‘Everybody’s Talkin’’, ‘Coconut’–“You put the lime in the coconut, and drink it all up”–now you remember, don’t you?).

  And the biggest passion of them all is our piece of heaven in France, our ‘Writers’ Retreat’ (www.writersretreatinfrance.com). Jane does her art there, and it’s where most of this book was written. Situated near Carcassonne, ‘our’ adopted village of Montolieu is also known as the Village of Books, on account of its 15 independent bookshops catering to just 850 inhabitants. The perfect location for creativity.

  I’m now imagining having driven to Montolieu in the Fiat, sitting on the terrace and writing my next book, Mr. Tap, with a glass of wine poured from a bottle just purchased from Adrian’s shop opposite, with Nilsson playing through the speakers. Hmm–a lovely thought.

  ABOUT THE CHARACTERS

  Florida Key has been partly crowdfunded, enabling this author to take time away from clients’ halls, stairs and landings, and concentrate on completing the project. Without a hefty advance that Stephen King or JK Rowling can command, you have to think of all the ways you can to make ends meet.

  Friends asked me if they could join the fun of being in this book, and the creative challenge of how to include them added a hugely positive ingredient to the mix.

  There were those whose true name was so delicious, I just had to create a character in which their persona could exist. An example of this is Mrs. Hannah Baltzwinik-Toporofski (yes, she is real). Pure gold, I thought, and I loved writing any parts of the story that she could crop up in.

  Another example presented itself when I met Melody and her tiny dog Blaise-Pascal. They were renting our Writers’ Retreat, and Melody found a copy of Muddy Water there. Inspired by the concept of buying her way into Florida Key, she asked to be included. Bearing in mind that by this time the first draft was al
most finished, I gulped. How could I turn her down, especially with her dog having such a charming name? I couldn’t, not least because there was a cash offer on the table. Not a lot, but enough to persuade me to do a rewrite and find a way in for them.

  I’m such a cheapskate, and I know it, but it did lead me down a creative path I enjoyed travelling.

  I love the Black Buoy pub in Wivenhoe, just like real-life characters Audrey and Bob Needham do in the book. I also met Lorraine McTear for the first time there. Lorraine was instrumental in providing another of the characters–Theresa Ashley. Lorraine had told me about the charity event she co-organises every year, and I promised to donate a signed Muddy Water as well as give a part in what was then the future Florida Key. Theresa won that auction, the charity became considerably richer as a result, and I had a lot of fun including Theresa as a policewoman in a small town in Illinois, USA.

  Miss Alberta Louise Baudet had the honour of making her second appearance, playing the same character in Florida Key as she had done in Muddy Water. As I wrote the dialogue for her character, I could almost hear the words being spoken by her over my shoulder.

  Another cash-for-character addition was Katie Copeland, who I included as a forensics expert. Not knowing much about Katie, I described her in the book as being a bit OCD. I wanted to check that she didn’t mind this portrayal of her, and I also mentioned, “by the way, you’re a forensic scientist.” Not only did she then inform me that she’d always, since she was a young girl, wanted to do that job, but by her own admission she was obsessed with being ultra neat and tidy at home. “Everything absolutely has to be in its right place,” she elaborated. In the story, I had also written that her husband Paul loves watching sport on TV, and that he reads his newspapers from back to front. And that’s exactly what he does in true life. I had no idea. Spooky.

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  I’d like to give a special mention and thanks to David Roberts at Hornet Books. When I began writing Muddy Water, it was David, previously an editor at Guinness World Records, who encouraged me to go on my metaphorical writing journey. It turned out to be far more than that–it became an exciting adventure.

  Our paths had first crossed because he was the author of the fabulous Rock Atlas, a book featuring significant music-related places throughout the country, and I wanted a signed copy. If, for example, you’re intrigued to learn where the pub that Robbie Williams grew up in is, look no further than page 177. By the way, it’s the Red Lion in Burslem, Staffordshire.

  Little did I know at the time, David was busy forming Hornet, and soon I was being offered a contract to become their first published author. Talk about luck!

  Hornet is a thoroughly excellent publishing house, and they are a real pleasure to work with. It may not be the size of Penguin or HarperCollins–yet–but you know you’re in good company and safe hands with them. They genuinely care about their growing stable of authors.

  Every week, David and I would meet up to talk books, music, this and that, eat dinner (taking it in turns to provide a ready meal) and drink wine (also taking it in turns to provide the bottle(s) of red). Five years on, we’re still carrying on this tradition, still chewing the cud and still putting the world to rights.

  And we’d also discuss books–Muddy Water, Florida Key, and hopefully my next, Mr. Tap.

  Not only is David the publisher, he is also the editor, and the cover photographer and designer. He’s also become a great friend.

  ABOUT THE WRITING PROCESS

  To all fellow novelists–this is not recommended, but it worked for me. It helped me free my mind, allowing me to go down a track that perhaps I wouldn’t have otherwise ventured on. Had I always been stone-cold sober, I’d probably have thought: “No, I’d better not write that, better not go there.” But, while working on Florida Key during a warm February day in Montolieu, I had a phone conversation with David, my editor. I’m sure it was he who encouraged me to do this, but he might now deny it, being the responsible publisher that he is.

  You see, my routine would go like this: I’d get up early, have coffee and breakfast, then begin working at around 8am. By 1pm, it was time to open some of Adrian’s wonderful wine from his shop opposite. By mid-afternoon I would be cranking up the music as I wrote all sorts of, some might say (including me), wine-induced nonsense, letting the story take on a life of its own. I’d stop ‘work’ at around 5pm, and turn the music higher, leaving a trail of LPs scattered all over the floor. The following morning, after coffee, I would clear up the records and put them back alphabetically on the shelf, reread what I’d written the previous afternoon, scratch my head and think of the Talking Heads song, ‘Once In A Lifetime’. Just like in the song, I asked myself: how did I get here? My God! What have I done?

  Then I’d set to, throwing out some of the ideas that I considered too crazy, even for me. And I’d keep some of the good ones, and work on turning them into something I was happy with, good for the plot, and hopefully entertaining for the reader.

  If you have enjoyed Florida Key, why not check out Neil Watson’s first novel Muddy Water.

  https://www.amazon.co.uk/Muddy-Water-Neil-Watson/dp/0993435300/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1523885772&sr=1-1&keywords=muddy+water

  For the full list of all Hornet Books titles and more information visit

  www.hornetbooks.com

  and Facebook at www.facebook.com/HornetBooksPublishing/

  Visit author Neil Watson’s blog

  www.aboatformypotplants.blogspot.com