Dead Girl Beach

by Mike Sullivan

  Time elapsed, and the Riser Room closed promptly at 2:00 a.m. After that, the sisters swept the place down. They cleaned tables and rearranged furniture. They saw Bennie Zee’s pet group of cashiers balancing the till under his watchful eye. A while later, the bar manager’s small, trim body slipped from the shadows of the club like an aging, silver fox and walked over. Go home, he told them without another word, and sent them away with a rude, dismissive wave.

  A freight truck coming in the opposite direction swept past Lawan. The wind battered the small Toyota. It pushed the car to the side of the road and jarred her out of her thoughts. Lawan fought the wheel and got the car under control. Seabury stared across at her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  For a moment, she said nothing. She just froze there with her eyes pinned to the road. In the distance, a halo of light arched into the dark sky above Had Rin. On the road, headlights swept past the black, cone shapes of tall trees. Long, uneven patches of wild grass glittered amongst the darkness. Closer to town, lights from shops and tiny, roadside restaurants appeared and swept past them. Lawan stayed quiet for a long time. Seabury was the first to speak.

  “You need to trust me.”

  “I’m worried. I think that dreadful woman has Suma.” Lawan glanced to the side at Seabury. He saw tears well up in her eyes. “I think something awful has happened to her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  To Seabury, his life up to this point had a schedule and discipline. He was a leader—a bright, stable, and unusually competent employee, not a wanderer or roustabout looking for his next job. He moved on the orders of other men, men higher up in the intricate network of maritime shipping, a team member transporting freight over vast oceans.

  In the impenetrable, blue silence, the persistent growl of rugged diesels churned over the sea, powering the freighter toward dark, mysterious places in distant lands—places that challenged some primeval need inside him to roam and seek adventure.

  Out there, away from the reality of bustling crowds and the dark, commercial world with its angst and daily grind, he managed to avoid all of it—commuter traffic crawling at a snail’s laborious pace, bumper-to-bumper traffic, cars at signal lights with engines snorting. Nameless faces, important people—busy, technology-trained, hard-edged people producing profits—compressed into the tiny windows of high-rise offices above crowded, congested streets. All of them were to some degree involved in the restless, dynamic, ever-changing flow of world commerce.

  He was in that world now, living a life of chaos and uncertainty. A girl he knew had gone missing. She was out there now, somewhere in the dark night, alone and in trouble, and he had to find her.

  Seabury wasn’t opposed to being onshore. He didn’t mind if it was for short periods of time. Now that Dao’s death had shattered most of his illusions about finding another woman, he couldn’t see himself getting married and settling down to the life of a family man.

  Onshore, it had been always the same…other people’s problems…weak, helpless people caught in the grip of the antagonist’s madness. Somehow, he was there, immersed in all of it and trying to help out the victim.

  His home was the sea, and the sea for the most part was quiet and peaceful. Onshore, it was just the opposite. The land was a dark, vile, and dangerous place—a theatre of the absurd with its brutality, murder, and mayhem disguised beneath the bright, glittering lights of the world’s great cities. The sea was his home. At sea, he felt peaceful and content. Now, he longed to be back there.

  Lights flashed inside the car from shops and restaurants along the road. Seabury sat in the seat, cramped and restricted. He’d pushed the seat back as far as it would go. He flexed his broad shoulders over the back of the seat, and his face looked dark and distant.

  “What?” Lawan asked.

  He turned back to the voice. “Nothing, just thinking.”

  In the light from the dashboard, Lawan looked worried. Seabury saw the fear move from her eyes down onto her face.

  “I’m afraid about the cabin…and all that blood. I’m worried about Suma,” she told him.

  Seabury’s hand went up. He shook it back and forth, calmly in front of her. “We’ll find her…don’t worry.”

  Lawan’s eyes drifted back off him.

  “Hey, I know you have beautiful eyes, but could you please keep them on the road.” Seabury chuckled, joking with her and trying to make light of the tense moment.

  “How’s this?” She sat up and looked straight ahead.

  “Better. I wouldn’t want to ditch the car in a mango swamp. They might not find our bones until some land developer decides to put up another shopping mall.”

  “How dramatic. Maybe, there’s a job for you on the Silver Screen.”

  “You never know. If Mel Gibson made it big in America, maybe I could, too. No. Come to think of it, acting’s not my thing. I like a tall bottle of Corona, a freighter out of Seattle, and the open sea in that order. As you can see, my needs are simple.”

  He was surprised at how he was going on, but it seemed to be working, because the fear vanished from Lawan’s face. The car shook and rattled down the road, now. Seabury smelled exhaust fumes leaking up from beneath the floorboards. The wind whistled in through a seam of cracked rubber around the doorjamb.

  Light from the dashboard flickered through the darkness inside the car. It moved onto Seabury’s thick, bushy hair—cut short and layered atop a wide, oblong face. The face was not old but boyish and ruggedly handsome in the way of his ancient Hawaiian ancestors.

  He could trace his lineage as far back as the 1700s to Queen Kamehameha. She was a leader ahead of her time, a deep thinker. She was very intelligent, although at times moody and introspective. The trait was as much a part of Seabury’s nature as eating his next meal.

  “Not much further,” Lawan said. “Another mile…no more.”

  Seabury could see lights up ahead as they neared the outskirts to Had Rin. “I want to get down on the beach—into that big crowd—and look around. Maybe, we can spot Suma there.”

  The car raced on into the night.

  * * * *

  Ten minutes later, they reached the turnoff to Had Rin. Lawan drove down a street bordered by shops and bars in the downtown section, crossed over to Sunrise Beach, and screeched on the gravel inside a parking lot above the ocean.

  The finger from a metal sign pointed down to the beach. A wooden ramp led them past a collection of small, open-air bars and commercial stalls selling hard liquor down to the entrance of the beach. Up ahead, a hot and hellacious crowd swarmed the beach. Red, orange, blue, and yellow beach costumes pushed out from the shadowy light of a full moon.

  A robust, ribald, and noisy crowd danced to the booming tempo of psytrance music piped out of loud speakers on wooden stages strung out along the beach. Thousands of heads —dark, blonde, brown, bald—bobbed up and down. Loose jointed, limber youth fueled by yah bah, beer, and cannabis turned and twisted in energetic bursts of speed and power as the fierce, pounding beat rocked the night and scorched the sand beneath their feet.

  “I don’t see her anywhere.” Lawan cried above the noise.

  Seabury grabbed her hand and worked his way through the crowd swirling up around him. As they moved on, scouring the beach, heads sprang up from the shadows and swept past them. Seabury, trapped in a graying mist that spiraled up before his eyes, scurried ahead with Lawan at his side, and a crowd came back at them from the opposite direction.

  Eyes—dazed and glowing, like chips of glass in hot, sagging flesh—swept past them with cool indifference. Another wall, just as large, pulled up behind them, crowding their backs and shoving them along. Off to the right, a stage appeared. Heiko & Maiko Techno Rock blared from speakers. Seabury heard the lyrics.

  Don’t look astonished, the ground will burn. Blam! Blam! Blam!

  Girls wore string bikinis. Young, sexy-looking girls drinking beer and dancing, dancing, dancing with their boyfriends or other girls flashe
d by in the corner of Seabury’s eye. The music blared on in a loud, cavernous roar.

  Hip hop crap, never again. Pull out the drugs. That’s what you like. Blam! Blam! Blam!

  The air torched hot with fire. Up past the bandstand, Seabury stopped. He looked at Lawan.

  “Not here,” he said.

  Lawan’s voice sank in desperation.

  “Too many people. It’s hard to see anything.”

  They were near the front door of the Riser Room when Seabury pulled out money and handed it to Lawan. He pointed to a stall selling hard liquor across the beach near the bar.

  “You can rent a chaise for 120 baht,” he told her. “There’s something I have to do. I won’t be long. I’ll meet you over there in ten or fifteen minutes.” He walked off before Lawan had time to protest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Seabury took a booth opposite the wrap-around bar inside the Riser Room. The place wasn’t busy. Bar girls had scurried off into the changing room at the back of the bar to get ready for the crowds coming in later on for the floorshow. Bennie Zee saw him come in and walked over to meet him.

  “Seabury.” He beamed. ” You want a girl? I can get you one. Anyone you want.”

  Seabury shook his head.

  “Well, maybe a drink.” Bennie scooted into the booth next to him.

  “I’m looking for Lawan Songsiri,” Seabury said. “She around?”

  Bennie made a funny face. “That little bitch. She quit on me, today. Her and her sister. ” He looked at Seabury. “I will get you someone else.”

  “No. Not now, Bennie.”

  Bennie froze at the tone of his voice and backed away from Seabury. A bar girl scooted by on her way back to the dressing room. Bennie waved a hand and caught her attention.

  “Hey, Ploy. Get me a whiskey…and a Corona for Seabury.”

  Ploy came back a few minutes later with the drinks then left. Bennie turned on the charm and the fake smile. “How’ve you been?” he asked. “Haven’t seen you around for a few days.”

  Seabury recognized the insincerity in his tone. The air was hot and humid. Bennie’s face flushed, and his skin looked damp and oily. Seabury saw beads of sweat form on his brow beneath the shock of silver hair. Droplets of sweat ran down the sides of his small, flat nose.

  “Better turn up the air conditioner, Bennie. Don’t be so friggin’ cheap.”

  Bennie’s hand closed to a fist under the table. “What’s the matter, Hawaiian Boy? Someone steal your last dollar? I don’t appreciate the tone I’m hearing.”

  “I want to know about Lawan.”

  “What about her.”

  “Why did she quit. A girl works for you—what?—a year, year and a half? Then, she quits? There has to be some reason.”

  “Dunno.” Bennie shook his head. “She calls the bar and says she’s not coming in. Look. I dunno why.” He paused. “Why? What’s it to you, anyway?” His voice took on a sharp edge.

  “I think you do, Bennie. See, the way I figure it, you need a Mama San working in here—someone like an older woman to supervise the girls. That way, they do the job professionally but don’t have to worry about someone like you going off on them.”

  Bennie stood up. When Seabury grabbed his arm, Bennie swung on him. His small fist grazed the side of Seabury’s jaw, just enough to annoy him, and he slammed Bennie back down in the seat.

  “Don’t ever try that, again,” Seabury warned him. Bennie scrambled back further into the cushions of the booth. A startled look crossed his face. “You’re a slimy low-life, Bennie. Lawan quits on you. Suma doesn’t show up here, tonight. I figure it’s because the working environment’s no good.”

  “I don’t need this,” Bennie said.

  “Where’s Lawan?’

  “I told you, I don’t know.” He went to get up, again.

  Seabury grabbed the back of Bennie’s head and pulled his face up close to his. He knew about Bennie’s deadly karate hand, but he wasn’t worried. In the semi-darkness hanging over the bar, their eyes locked together. Bennie tried to look the other way, but Seabury pulled him closer, staring at him with contempt and scorn.

  “I ever hear of you treating any of these girls’ bad again, I’ll come back. I promise you, it’ll turn ugly in a hurry.”

  Bennie wrenched free and scooted around to the other side of the booth, but Seabury’s long arm reached out and grabbed the back of his head, again. Fingers twisted up a tuft of silver hair. Bennie tried to wrench free, but Seabury slammed him face-first down on the table, shattering his nose and chipping a few teeth. Bennie howled, and blood splattered everywhere.

  The bar came alive as the sound of feet moved toward them. A few girls stood by the table, hands over their mouths, shocked, horrified, and glittering in a halo of sequined minis.

  Seabury tossed a few, crumpled notes on the table and went back outside. He crossed over to the liquor stall. When he arrived, two women sat on the chairs waiting for him. One was Lawan. The other woman, he wished he didn’t know.

  * * * *

  Seabury waited.

  “I need to explain,” Lawan said, her face turning red.

  Seabury’s eyes moved onto the woman. “You must be Tara Bennett.” He extended his hand.

  Surprised, Tara Bennett took his hand and shook it. “How do you know me?”

  “I have my sources,” Seabury said, smiling. “You don’t live here on the island. So, you’re here on other business.”

  The woman raised her tall, willowy body up in the chair. Her skin was tan with golden undertones, and she wore her straight, black hair very long.

  “Very good,” she said to Seabury and glanced across at Lawan, as if giving her approval. Then, she turned back to face him. “I’m a criminal profiler,” she said, “on loan from the Taiwan Police Department in Taipei. I was assigned to the Bangkok Police Department to work up a profile on a killer they were having trouble identifying. I had to be sure that the killer was a woman, because the crimes were so compelling. The profile I worked up shows a detailed picture of the alleged killer, Greta Langer. We believe she killed her secretary and perhaps three other people in Bangkok. So, nothing about her surprises me, anymore. She’s as cold as ice and as cruel and heartless as they come. She needs to be taken off the streets as soon as possible…which brings me to another point.”

  She paused before continuing. “You’re in danger. If you’re thinking about pursuing Greta Langer, my advice is…don’t. I know her. She’s ruthless, cunning, and very smart. She already knows Suma isn’t Lawan, but it doesn’t matter to her. She already has her next murder victim and the one after that singled out.” She looked at Seabury. “You, Sam. You’re who she’ll target next. After that article came out about you in the Koh Phangan Gazette, it no doubt enraged her. She wants you killed. She’s been planning it for a long time.”

  Tara whispered something to Lawan. Lawan nodded her head and then stood up next to Seabury. A boisterous crowd of revelers moved past them, hooting and hollering, their voices cracking back into the darkness. Seabury glanced away then back, again.

  “Okay, listen,” he said. “I’ve made a mistake. I thought Suma might have just wandered off down here. Like someone would if they’re bipolar.” Lawan went to say something, but Seabury raised a hand, and she remained quiet. “I was wrong. Suma’s up at the lagoon with Greta Langer. I’ve got to hurry. I can’t waste time.” He looked at Lawan. “You and Tara go back to your condo. I’ll meet you there later.”

  Lawan fished in her purse, came out with keys to her condo, and handed them to Tara. Before Seabury could protest, she said, “I’m going with you.”

  “Come on, Lawan. This isn’t a weekend outing. You need to stay here with Tara.”

  Lawan shook her head. “I’m going. We’re wasting time arguing.”

  Tara stared at them in disbelief. “You’re not making sense, either of you. You’re dealing with a sick, sadistic sociopath. Putting your lives in danger is…” she exhaled a heavy
sigh, “…absolutely crazy.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk,” Seabury said.

  “Why not let the police handle it?” She reached inside her purse for her cell phone. “Here, let me call them.”

  “Not now.” Seabury’s hand flew up, waving her off. “Give me an hour. Then, call them.”

  Tara stood up. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” She stared up at Seabury. “She’s sick. She’s dangerous…I’m telling you. Don’t do it. Don’t go up there.” Seabury said nothing. “Seabury.” Tara drew out his name in a long, painful sigh. “It’s suicide going up there…you and Lawan.” She looked at Lawan and shook her head. “Oh, boy. I see I’m being overruled here.” Tara shrugged and shook her head. “Okay, if you insist on going…please, be careful. I’ll call the police and get them up there.”

  Lawan and Seabury hurried up the beach.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “What happen in there?” Lawan asked.

  Seabury shouldered and weaved his way through the crowd. “The Riser Room?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Not much,” Seabury said.

  “Well?” Lawan waited.

  “I think Bennie’s business plan suddenly changed. He’s going to hire a new Mama San to run the place.”

  A puzzled look, peppered by a brisk smile, crossed Lawan’s face. “You didn’t…”

  “Not too much,” Seabury said as they hurried along. “Bennie will always be a low-life pimping out his girls. Any way you look at it, he’s not going to change.” A full moon rose higher into the sky. In the distance, the dark, silhouette shape of a huge cliff dropped off sharply into the eastern sea. Seabury pointed up ahead. “We have to go around the edge of the peninsula, again. Are you up for it? Remember the last time…”

  “Last time, I was scared,” Lawan said, cutting in. “A lot is at stake, now. So, yes. I’m up for it.”

  “Okay. There’s that boat shack next to the pier. We’ll rent an outboard and head for the lagoon.”

  “How do you know Suma’s there? Greta might be fooling all of us. She could have gone anywhere on the island with Suma. Are you sure this time?” She paused, worried. “We can’t be making mistakes…” She looked straight at him. “I mean, we just can’t.”