03 - Three Odd Balls

by Cindy Blackburn

  Have I mentioned “The Plan” sucked?

  One final task was given to yours truly as Wilson bent down and placed a tape recorder in the hiding place beside my hip. Again he guided my fingers and they found the “On” switch.

  “Turn this on the minute Buster gets down here. You got it?”

  “Got it,” I mumbled, and Vega reminded me I was to do the talking and get a confession out of Buster. I sputtered out a few four-letter words, he wished us luck, and left.

  Wilson was still kneeling next to us. He reached out and enveloped us in a bear hug. “I’ll be right outside,” he whispered. “I know you guys will do great.”

  I think he must have kissed his son on the cheek, but Chris told him to get the hell out of there. Wilson offered my own cheek a hasty but very precious peck, picked up his flashlight, and then he was gone.

  And it was really, really dark.

  Chapter 28

  Time passed.

  I listened intently, but the only sound I heard, which I hoped was a figment of my overactive imagination, was the sound of Ms. Huge and Hairy eating Mr. Rainbow Bug II. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

  “Tell me a story, Jessie?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How about the basics of My South Pacific Paramour?” Chris asked. “Dad says it’s gonna be your best yet.”

  “Wilson?” I scowled into the darkness. “He never pays the slightest attention to my stories.”

  “Oh yes he does. He likes your sex scenes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He says your pen name isn’t Add-a-Lay Nightingale for nothing. It’s how Larry broke his leg, you know?”

  “Your roommate?” I scowled some more. “The guy who cancelled your ski trip?”

  “Yep. After Dad told us how your books win all these prizes for being so sexy, Larry ordered a few for his Kindle.”

  “For his Kin—” I shook my head as it finally dawned on me. “Let me guess,” I said. “Larry wasn’t cramming for his chemistry final when he broke his leg—he was reading one of my books.”

  “A Devilish Desire. He wasn’t watching where he was going and walked straight into the chemistry building.”

  I do believe even Ms. Huge and Hairy laughed at that.

  “Well, I am sorry,” I said eventually. “I assume you’ve been blaming me for ruining your ski trip.”

  “Nah. I’m having a great time with you guys. Hawaii’s cool.” Chris must have noticed his surroundings. “Not our cave, but generally speaking.” He nudged me gently. “You’re having fun, too. Aren’t you, Jessie?”

  Lord help me, I smiled despite myself. “Yes, Chris,” I said. “I do believe I am.”

  “So then, tell me the story. Not the kinky parts,” he hastened to add. “But the plot and stuff.”

  Thus I took a deep breath and filled him in on Delta Touchette’s plight.

  “Urquit Snodgrass, a.k.a. the Pirate of Diamond Island and the Monster of Ebony Island, has kidnapped Delta,” I concluded. “He is right now holding her captive—literally holding her—over the crest of the Goochie Leoia Gorge. He’s torn between ravishing her and tossing her into the depths of the waterfalls.”

  “Goochie Lee-O-I-A,” Chris repeated. “I like that. But what’s Snotgrass waiting for? Your books are all about the ravishing scenes, right?”

  “Wrong. First of all his name is Snodgrass,” I corrected. “And he’s the bad guy. He doesn’t get a sex scene—Adelé Nightingale’s readers would never tolerate such a thing. He will, however, get to see our lovely heroine naked. That leaf she’s wearing is about to fall off.”

  “Did you just say, leaf?”

  “The altogether overwhelming sight of Delta’s mostly-exposed bosom has left Snodgrass temporarily mesmerized. He wants to toss her into the depths of Goochie Gorge, which he imagines will surely kill her, but he can’t quite tear his gaze away from her curvaceous figure.”

  “Why’s he want to kill her?”

  “Because he knows she knows about his hidden treasure. Snodgrass might be sinister, but he’s not stupid. He knows if he allows Delta to go free, she’ll run back to civilization and report to lawman Skylar Staggs about the gold. And then so much for Snodgrass!”

  “What’s Snodgrass planning to do with all the gold?”

  Okay, good question. I thought about the inner workings of Urquit Snodgrass’s sinister mind.

  “You know what?” I said. “He just likes hoarding it. He’s a hermit. He likes living all alone in the woods, and sleeping under the stars. The man really does have simple needs. But he likes power, too, and he likes instilling fear in others. He’s thrilled that the inhabitants of both Ebony and Diamond Islands have begun believing in a ludicrous rumor that the pirate is in actuality a monster. The Monster of Ebony Island! Why, that’s the issue that lured Delta Touchette away from her homeland back in Dreary Old England and to her Auntie Eleanor’s in the first place.”

  “I think I’m getting a headache,” Chris said, and I admitted it was a rather convoluted plot.

  “But we’re just getting to the good part,” I said. “The fateful scene where Snodgrass makes his decision and tosses the delectable Delta into the waterfalls of the Goochie Leoia. On her way down she finally loses that leaf and screams accordingly.

  “But the despicable Snodgrass isn’t the only one to witness such. Skylar Staggs has just swung into the scene—and I do mean swung. Skylar is your typical Tarzan-type hero. He can swing through the tree tops with the best of them. And just as he lights down, he sees Snodgrass snickering, and Delta falling, and he has to make a hasty decision—catch the villain or save the damsel.”

  “Save the damsel,” Chris said with assurance.

  “Absolutely. Skylar hesitates not at all before diving straight into the waterfall.” I smiled at the image. “I’ll spare you the details—the kinky stuff, as you say—but an altogether inspired love scene will ensue once he pulls the nubile and nude Delta out of the watery depths. They’ll find themselves in a most pleasant grove of banyan trees, and, well, you get the picture.”

  Chris let out a slow whistle. “No wonder Larry broke his le—”

  “Heads up!” Wilson called out, and we both jumped. “Buster’s on his way.” The flashlight shone into Pele’s Prison as my beau entered through the tunnel. “Tessie and Louise just called. Buster’s been on pins and needles—your mother’s words—all evening. Seeing Bee Bee freaked him out—Louise’s words. But the dinner crowd kept him busy. Until now.”

  Wilson turned to leave, but thought of something else, and stopped. “By the way, Tessie’s pretty sure he left carrying a knife. A big knife, but that’s way better than a gun, right?”

  He gave us a thumbs up and disappeared.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for strength.

  But then I pictured Buster coming at me with a knife. And then I remembered how he had treated Bee Bee. And Chris. And Davy.

  And then I got mad.

  ***

  “Anyone home?” Buster called from the tunnel, all perky-like.

  “What the hell do you think,” I called back and switched on the tape recorder just as he emerged into the cave, flashlight in hand. Oh, and butcher knife in other hand. As Louise would say, completely and totally un-fantastical.

  “What happened to your hair?” he asked.

  “Bee Bee.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your bird,” I snapped. “He pooped on my head.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Very good, Buster. I’m mad, and you’re a murderer.”

  “No, it was your boyfriend. They just arrested him.”

  I chuckled, which apparently was not the reaction anyone expected. I could feel Chris flinch, and Buster almost pouted. “Aren’t you upset?” he asked me. “Aren’t you worried?”

  I told him I was worried, but not surprised. “We’ve had all day to think about why you kidnapped us. Clearly you wanted to throw suspicion elsewhere.”

  “Good job,”
Chris added sarcastically.

  “Why did you kill Davy?” I asked without further ado.

  “I just told you. It was your boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, right. And you kidnapped Chris and me just for the fun of it. And why did you kidnap that poor bird? Did Bee Bee know something?”

  “How did he get out?” Buster asked.

  “He walked.”

  Chris jabbed me and I cleared my throat. “Or he flew,” I corrected myself. “We were, as you know, in the dark.” I spent a moment deciding what I would, and would not know, if indeed I had been trapped in the stupid cave all day.

  “I hope Bee Bee found his way back to the Wakilulani Gardens,” I said. “Do parrots have good homing instincts?”

  “The Wakilulani is not his home. Bee Bee doesn’t belong anymore. He was Grandpa’s bird.”

  Grandpa’s bird. I let the gist of that sink in and thought about how to proceed. “So,” I said. “You didn’t want Bee Bee around anymore because he was part of the old resort? I understand completely.”

  “You do?”

  “I think so. You’ve been working so hard to make everything all new and fresh, correct? And Bee Bee was the mascot for the old Wakilulani. But why didn’t you just kill him?”

  Buster jumped. “Kill Bee Bee? Oh, no!” he said. “Bee Bee was Grandpa’s bird. I couldn’t kill him.”

  But you could let him suffer in Pele’s Prison.

  I took a deep breath and tried to think like a lunatic. “But you still wanted him gone, correct?”

  “I’m getting a new pet. I want a puppy.”

  I nodded, feigning understanding. “All fresh and new,” I repeated. “I guess that goes for the Wakilulani staff, too?”

  Buster shifted from foot to foot.

  “You may as well tell us what happened, Buster,” I encouraged. “What difference will it make once we’re dead?”

  Chris jabbed me from behind.

  “No, really,” I continued undeterred. “I have had a very rough day and now face certain death by stabbing. I simply refuse to die in the dark.” I blinked into the semi-darkness. “Figuratively speaking, that is.”

  Buster kept up with the shuffling, and my intuition told me he was reluctant to kill us. Maybe my very rough day was finally looking up.

  I soldiered on. “You managed to get rid of most of the old staff pretty easily, didn’t you? They all quit.”

  “Not Derrick and Davy.”

  “No clean slate with those two hanging around.” I pretended to sigh. “You just had to get rid of them.”

  I watched Ms. Huge and Hairy continue her feast and listened to Buster complain about this, that, and the other. He went through the whole rigmarole of Carmen, her children, their fathers, and her child support arrangements. Somehow everything ended up being Davy Atwell’s fault.

  I cleared my throat. “So Davy was the was the last to go?”

  “He wouldn’t go. That’s the trouble.”

  “Why didn’t you fire him?”

  “Ki wouldn’t let me.”

  “Why not?” Chris asked.

  Buster seemed exasperated at our stupidity. “I just told you. I fire Davy, like I fired Derrick, and Carmen gets no child support. Ki would get mad at me again.”

  “So you killed Davy instead?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah!”

  Chris flinched again, and I bit my lip, and we let Buster continue.

  “Now Ki will finally be happy,” he said. “Carmen’s children will inherit Davy’s house. The place is huge! It’s on all the tours, and it’s worth a fortune. They can all live there, and Ki will be close by, and he can help me at the Wakilulani without getting mad all the time. We can pick out a puppy together. Carmen’s children can help—”

  Click.

  It was a teeny-tiny sound, but I assure you the click of the tape recorder turning off reverberated throughout the cave. Even Ms. Huge and Hairy noticed. She stopped eating and shifted her gaze toward Buster.

  Meanwhile, I was busy untying the ropes that bound me to Chris.

  ***

  That bound Chris to me would be more accurate. He leapt up, gun in hand, just as Buster lunged forward.

  By the time I was on my feet with the flashlight, Buster had seen the gun.

  He froze in his tracks. “You miss me,” he said, not taking his eyes from the weapon, “and the bullet will bounce off the walls and hit her.”

  He pointed at yours truly, and I muttered a four-letter word. Wasn’t this just a fine time for Buster Okolo’s logic to start making sense?

  Buster knew it made sense. He lunged at Chris, who abandoned the gun and pulled out his stupid pocket knife.

  Buster was jabbing—badly I am happy to report. And Chris was ducking—well I am happy to report, when I remembered that I, too, had a pocket knife.

  It took me far too long to get the thing open, what with my hands shaking so badly. But this gave me time to rethink the plan. I pulled out the tiny blade and thrashed it upward. And the spider came tumbling down. Onto my head.

  Onto my head!? My head!?

  “OH MY GOD!!!!!!!” I shrieked at the very top of my lungs. I jumped up and down, and flailed my arms, and Ms. Huge and Hairy got the hint. She flew, or perhaps I swatted her, across the cave, and she landed on Buster’s face.

  I screamed some more, but Buster was way louder than me. That is until he fainted.

  What a good idea! I caught a glimpse of Wilson and Vega at the opening of the tunnel just as I collapsed.

  ***

  But let’s face it, spending one more second on the floor of Pele’s Prison was not in my best interest. I accepted Wilson’s hand, and he pulled me back to my feet.

  Meanwhile, Chris had a flashlight pointed at Buster, and Vega had a gun pointed at him. Buster’s eyes were fluttering open, but no one was moving toward him. Not with Ms. Huge and Hairy perched his nose like that. Proof positive, boys and girls, that crime does not pay.

  The spider seemed unconcerned about her mesmerized audience. She sat there until I was threatening to faint again, and then ever so slowly departed from Buster’s face. While Vega and Wilson got Buster to his feet and handcuffed, Chris and I held onto to each other for support and watched our spider crawl up to her corner and start spinning a new web.

  You had to admire the gal’s energy.

  “You think you’ll use a scene like this in South Pacific Paramour?” Chris asked me.

  I squinted at Ms. Huge and Hairy. “No,” I said. “Adelé’s readers would never believe it.”

  Chapter 29

  “Who would have thunk it?” Wilson looked up from the phone as I stepped out to the porch.

  No big surprise—I had spent much of the next morning washing my hair. But despite numerous and increasingly aggressive shampooings, the purple stain remained. I pointed to my head and pouted. “You’re right,” I agreed. “Who would have thunk it?”

  “No, Jessie.” He held up the cell phone. “That was Candy.”

  “The cats!” I jumped. “Oh, my Lord, Wilson! I forgot all about Wally yesterday! What with caves, and spiders, and jungles, and murder—”

  “Will you relax?” He patted the spot beside him, and I sat down. “Wally’s fine, okay? This injury was just the thing.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Our two females have taken to mothering him.” He again gestured to the phone and summarized Candy’s report. Apparently both Bernice and Snowflake had decided to nurse Wally back to health by cuddling him to death.

  “Bernice wouldn’t even leave him to eat her breakfast this morning,” Wilson said. “According to Candy the three of them have been huddled together on your bed for the last twenty-four hours. They’re even purring together. Who would have thunk it?”

  He frowned at my head. “Who would have thunk it?”

  I rolled my eyes and donned my new Halo Beach PD baseball cap. Then I did as suggested and relaxed. While Wilson read the newspaper, I listened to the medley of Elvis tunes wa
fting up to Paradise from the Song of the Sea.

  “They’re starting to sound pretty good,” I said.

  “You must have suds in your ears. Read this, Jessie.” He put the paper on my lap and tapped the article about Buster’s arrest.

  “A local crime story on the front page?” I asked as I sat up. “Has the Halo Beach Herald changed their approach to these things?”

  “Looks like it.” Wilson gestured to the paper, and I read.

  The summary of the interview they conducted with Chris and me was blessedly brief since the reporter had been much more interested in Bee Bee’s role in the whole shebang. Indeed, a large color photo of the heroic bird adorned a good part of the front page. “Good as new!” the caption read.

  “Thank you for saving me from the photographers last night, Wilson.”

  “That parrot might have been good as new. But you, Darlin,’ looked like hell.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  “Ki called when you were working on shampoo number seven.” Wilson abandoned the sports section. “He’s found his brother a good lawyer. The psychiatric evaluation is already scheduled for the twenty-sixth.”

  I asked what would happen to Buster, but Wilson reminded me he was not familiar with the Hawaiian criminal justice code.

  “Whatever happens, Buster won’t be coming back to the Wacky Gardens anytime soon,” he said. “Ki’s in charge, whether he likes it or not.”

  “He doesn’t,” Chris called from the garden as he and the rest of our gang approached Paradise. Chris was carrying a tray of coffee and pastries, Louise was carrying Bee Bee, and my mother was sputtering that everyone, especially Chris and her daughter, deserved some sweet treats after what we had endured the previous day.

  “No pancakes,” she said. “But Faye was dear enough to go get these for us.”

  “We saw Bethany, too,” Louise said as everyone pulled up seats. “She’s down at The Big House.”

  “Ki’s asked her to be the new manager.” Chris set his tray on top of the newspaper, and Louise reached over to grab a treat.

  “Isn’t that fantastical?” she asked. “Bethany will do a great job.”

  “Great job!” Bee Bee agreed. He reached out a claw, and Louise handed him a corner of her pastry.