"Well, what are we waiting for? Hank, I want to see what you've got."
Sam stared awestruck at his Master as he spoke. I was impressed, too, but I was dying to know what he meant by artifacts. I guessed that it could be anything. It could be a letter or maybe a legal document. Following Sam's example, I waited until everyone else stood and began to walk toward the house before I got up.
As we walked side by side, Sam leaned over and asked, "Are you excited?"
I exhaled sharply. "Yes, and do you know what object this is?"
Sam shook his head. "No, I'm not allowed to rummage in the safe on my own. It has been at least three years since Master last opened it in my presence. He has some unusual things in there. Just wait, Joel. You might be surprised."
An expensive looking old rug filled most of the floor of the tiny office, and a solid wood antique roll top desk rested against one wall. The surface of the desk was empty and clean. A wooden desk chair, upholstered in black leather with rollers attached waited for an occupant. A large impressionist painting of a beautiful seaside landscape hung on the wall opposite the desk.
The next moment was like something out of an old black-and-white detective movie. Once we all filed into the small space, Hank asked Rita to shut the door behind us. He grasped the frame of the painting on the right-hand side and pulled it away from the wall. It swung open on hinges to reveal a black safe built into the wall. Hank turned the dial on the front back and forth three times. He gripped a small lever, and the door of the safe swung open.
A stack of four flat buff-colored archival boxes sat inside. Hank reached toward them. "I think it's in the third one down if I remember correctly.” He gently slid the box out and handed it to Sam to place on the desk. Hank swung the painting back in place and lowered his bulky body onto the desk chair. Sam pushed him up close to the desk while Rita, Sir and I clustered behind the chair.
Hank lifted the lid from the box. Inside were eight smaller boxes with a typed title on a white label. He pulled out the box labeled "Elliott.” "This is it. Sam. Please open this box and show them all what's inside."
Sam gently lifted the lid. Nestled in a pile of puffy white cotton fill was a small bone. I swallowed hard. It was nothing that I expected. Sir spoke first. He asked a question. "Is that a finger bone, Hank? Do we want to know where you got it?"
"To be proper about it, it is the proximal phalange of the second finger on the right hand. And yes, I will tell you the story of how I added this particular artifact to my collection."
Sam fell to his knees beside his Master.
Rita clutched her chest. "This is more than a little creepy. I think I’ve seen many things in my time here on Key West, but this is the first finger bone.“
"I have one key individual who helps out with curation of my artifact collection. He is a young man I refer to as “Stark.” I keep his name to myself for his protection. Stark and Sam are good friends. I refuse to reveal any more about his identity even among friends. He is a vital member of this community. He must remain anonymous.”
Sam chimed in, "He’s a really great guy."
Hank continued his story. "Rita might remember this story from the newspapers. I think it happened while you were living in Miami, Tom, so you may know nothing about it. A legal immigrant was reported missing in Marathon about six years or so ago. In the usual way that these things unfold, the police searched for him for several days, and when nothing turned up, everyone assumed he had an unfortunate encounter with a shark or something similar."
Sir asked, "But you found out it was something else?"
"I would have thought nothing of it, but I do read newspaper stories carefully. In this case, the reporter mentioned that Rita’s corrupt uncle employed him. That was enough for me to think there could be more to the story than the details of the police report. I’m also always on the lookout for more ammunition to fight back in case Rita's father tries to make life difficult for her. So I dispatched Stark to Marathon to see what he could uncover.”
Rita spoke up. "I'm still not sure I want to know how he came back with a poor man's finger bone."
Hank chuckled. "Well, Stark overheard a conversation about the man and then some bragging about getting rid of the body. These people are not the sharpest knives in the drawer. They let details about the location of the body slip out. Joel, that man Cal that you punched is a dim bulbs when it comes to keeping anything secret."
Sir mused. "It's not easy to hide a body in the Keys. There's not a lot of space that isn't at risk of exposure by the weather or everyday erosion from the ocean."
Hank nodded. "It's not easy if you try and hide it above the water line."
“Did they sink it to the bottom?"
"Of course. What better way to make something disappear down here? They stuffed the body into a small reef growing around an old wreck. Stark told me they didn’t hide it particularly well, and the reef is close to the shore of private land owned by Rita's father. It’s unlikely to be disturbed, and, without a tip, by the time someone would find the skeleton, they would assume it went down with the wreck."
Rita asked, "So your assistant dove down and sliced off a finger?"
"That's exactly what happened my dear. I assume the body is still down there if we ever need it. Just in case they would decide to remove the rest of the remains, I also kept a few teeth. I've had a DNA profile run on the bone, and the ethnic makeup matches the immigrant who met an untimely death. So you see, we have a tiny little mountain of eyewitness evidence and artifacts. There is no statute of limitations on a murder investigation."
"Hank, who actually committed the murder?" Sir reached out with his index finger to lightly touch the bone in the box.
"Stark was unsure of that level of specificity, but the body is housed on Rita's father's property. Cal revealed the location. Stark recorded part of the conversation on his phone. It is clearly Cal’s voice on the recording, and Rita's uncle was the man's employer. Even a rookie lawyer could get the whole bunch sent to prison.”
Sir shook his head. "You have a recording, too?"
Sam said, “That bottom box is full of voice recordings collected by Master."
Hank reached out a hand and ruffled Sam's shock of blond hair. "The only question remaining is how best to deliver the details about our little collection of artifacts to the Marathon cartel."
Sir sighed. "I think I would draw far too much attention to be a useful delivery boy in this situation.”
Hank brushed his cheek with an index finger. "I think we will handle it this way. I'll place a phone call to Rita's father. I have multiple ways to make it untraceable. I think I will have my boy Sam speak while I listen in. Rita’s father will not know Sam's voice. I will make a simple request. I’ll ask him to take care of the charges against Tom and his boy while promising to let the mystery of Richard's fate rest forever. I don’t want to cause a war, but I want to create a safe border for us. Is that what we need?"
Rita asked, “And if they say no?"
"I think once Sam informs them about where they hid the body as well as the voice recordings and artifacts we have, they will have no choice but to comply. If they don't comply, this will explode in a scandal that pushes any other local story far away from the headlines, and the focus will land on the man they murdered not you, Rita. Eventually, the whole lot of them will face ten years to life in prison. Tom, there is a slim chance that you and your boy will have to comply with the request for an appearance in court, but I think that chance is very slim."
Sir crossed his arms. "Hank, I have to hand it to you. It sounds like a plan without holes. I'll look forward to hearing from you after you execute the plan, and I’ll graciously receive the cancellations from the Monroe County police department. I couldn't have pieced together a better solution in a novel."
After he locked everything back up in the safe, Hank invited us all to stay for dinner. He lauded Sam as an outstanding cook who could work miracles on the grill. Rita offer
ed her regrets and ducked out. She already had plans for a date. Sir grilled her on the details, but she kept mum. "It's not polite to ask a lady to spill her secrets." She paused. "And besides, this is only a first date. There is at least a 50% chance it will be the only date with this man."
Sir suggested that I shadow Sam to pick up some hints and techniques from his cooking. Unfortunately, I’d mostly ignored working on my cooking skills over the summer. Sir was still doing the bulk of the cooking on Rusty Door Key. Sir relaxed with Hank on the loungers by the pool with drinks in hand swapping stories and speculating on the future while I served as Sam's right-hand man.
I asked Sam questions about his life serving his Master. Some of it sounded difficult. He gave up plotting the direction of his life and left that all up to Hank. Sam’s Master was at least twenty years older. I asked him what was likely to happen at the point that his Master could no longer lead or when he ultimately passed on. Sam haltingly told me that he knew how everything in the house worked, and he knew where his Master stored all of the relevant documents, but he didn't like to think of the reality of his life without Hank. He suggested that it was a risk inherent to his choice of lifestyle. “One week with Master is worth any heartbreak in the future.”
I stood by his side as Sam seared succulent steaks on the gas grill and developed perfect grill marks on slabs of pineapple. We laid out place settings on a large table near the pool. With everything cooked, Sam pointed out the value of meticulous plating of the food. He said, "You always eat first with your eyes, and the appealing appearance of everything, from your body to his glass of iced tea, is one of the first considerations in pleasing your Master."
After the meal, as we gathered the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. I asked Sam how long it took for him to see Hank as his Master. Sam explained that the moment of truth came approximately six months after they began to live together. Until that point, he served a submissive role to Hank, and he called Hank Sir.
For their first trip together away from the Keys, Hank booked a trip to Mexico. When they arrived at their resort, Sam received his current collar, and he began calling Hank Master.
Before Sir and I left for the evening, I exchanged contact information with Sam. If I decided to stay with Sir and proceed forward with our relationship, I knew that he would be an excellent mentor who understood my point of view.
15
Three Messages
Hank told us that Sam would make his contact with the men in Marathon the day after our visit, and Hank would let us know as soon as they had any news worth sharing. We spent the following day on pins and needles. Sir groused that we were acting like two wrongly accused men waiting for the good guy sheriff to call off the hanging party.
At midnight, we finally climbed into bed having heard nothing. I asked Sir if we should call Hank. He turned the idea down. He said, “I’d trust him with my life. If he hasn’t called, there’s nothing worth knowing. No news has to be good news.”
We both woke before the sun. Sir admitted that he was too agitated for sex and encouraged me to try and get more sleep. I rested my head on his chest and pretended to sleep hoping that he would relax. We both drifted off for a few minutes but then woke up again as the sun rose. Sir said, “Maybe we should get up.“ The moment he completed the thought, the phone rang. We both jumped, and Sir grabbed his phone from the nightstand.
It wasn't Hank. It was Rita. Sir did his best to sound cheerful and wish her a good morning. After he laughed out loud, and I raised an eyebrow, he said, "I have to put this on speaker."
I heard Rita squealing with delight. She said, "And then I saw his, well, you know, Tom. I don't need to discuss body parts, but oh my God, I’m fanning myself here."
I said, "Good morning Rita," so that she knew I wasn't lurking and secretly listening in.
"Joel? What the? Did you put me on speaker, Tom? You naughty boy!" We both laughed again.
I said, "It's okay. If you don't want me to listen, let me know. I won't be offended."
Sir chimed in. "It's just that you sound so happy. Who wouldn’t love to hear that? It’s like the sun rising twice this morning.” He paused before adding, “And we always love hearing a little bit of the dirt, too.”
Rita giggled. "Oh, you are two of my favorite men in the world. I might have listed you as the favorites until last night. Sometimes the king has to give up his throne.“ She giggled again. "It's perfectly fine for you to hear, Joel. You’re over 21, and if you listen, I won't need to repeat the stories twice."
"So I hear you saying the date went well last night."
“Listen to Tom sounding like my therapist. My date went home ten minutes ago. Does that tell you anything?"
Sir laughed again. "Rita, you she-devil. Is it safe to say that you have a better than 50% chance at a second date?"
She shouted, "This was the second date! Don't you pay attention, Tom? Remember, I was meeting him after I left Hank's. There was only a kiss goodnight that night. He has amazing lips by the way, but I didn’t let him out of bed this time until the morning, and no, I’m not kinky that way, unlike a few friends of mine.”
"Oh, I didn't know you were talking about the same man. What's his name?”
Rita paused for a few moments. "Sterling, now isn't that a laugh? I mean, the name sounds like one of those men jerking around a joystick in front of their TV set, but believe me, he is so so much more than that."
"Now Rita, let's not be nasty about names. When do we get to meet Sterling?"
“Did you bring handsome Joel to see me after the second night? I don't think so. All in good time, boys, all in good time."
Sir laughed. "Catch a breath now, Rita."
She gathered herself, and her voice dropped a decibel. "Did I wake the two of you up? I'm really sorry about that if I did. I couldn't contain myself about...Sterling. He's something else."
"No, we weren't sleeping well anyway. Joel and I were trying to decide whether to give up on sleep and get up."
Rita giggled. "Sorry, I’m imagining the two of you naked in bed. Yum. Seriously, I’ll need to fan myself again."
I laughed. "It's not as exciting this morning as usual."
Rita sounded concerned when she asked the next question. "Is something up? Is there a wrinkle in the sheets in your little island paradise?"
Sir sighed. "We're waiting on Hank. I thought we might hear something yesterday, and there’s still no word."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Well, sometimes things like this can take a little bit of time. Maybe they weren't able to get through to the target yesterday. They could have been out fishing or away from home. Be patient, love. Hank is a man of his word. If he thinks he can fix it, there is at least a 95% chance that he will, and he won’t rest until he has exhausted all possibilities. Just you wait."
I saw a small smile light up Sir's face. "Thank you. I'm so very happy for you. We’re sending big hugs and kisses, but I think we'll go for now, in case we get that call."
"And you'll let me know as soon as the two of you find something out?"
"Absolutely. You are officially in the loop."
I heard kissing sounds through the phone. "That one's for Joel, and a big smackeroo for you, too, sweet Tom. Talk to you soon!"
Sir sighed when Rita hung up, and he set the phone back down on the nightstand. He pressed his head back against his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. I ran my fingers across his chest in sympathy. He asked, ”So do you have something to keep yourself busy while we wait?"
I nodded. "I didn't work on the email yesterday while we were waiting impatiently. I can go through that this morning. Would you like me to get up and put the coffee on?"
He cupped my chin and kissed me. "That sounds like a good thing. We're not accomplishing much lying here worrying. Go ahead and get the coffee ready, and I'll join you in a few minutes."
I pulled on a pair of shorts and padded barefoot to the kitchen. I popped the first little cup into the coffee maker. It was for me,
and I always waited for the sound of Sir's footsteps before I started his cup to make sure that it was as hot as possible.
I looked out the window over the sink. It was a breezy day outside. I heard the rustling of the palm fronds. Carrying my mug of coffee with me, I opened the door to let the breeze inside. I was eager for it to clear the stuffiness from the house.
As I took my first sip of the coffee, I heard Sir's footsteps. He didn't move quickly in the morning, and by the time he was standing near me in the kitchen, his coffee was ready.
“Will you be able to work today, Joel?"
I sipped my coffee and roamed across the room to the barber chair. "I think so. I can at least make it through sorting the email.” As I ran my fingers across the back of the chair, I said, “I’ll need another buzz soon. Did you have a suggestion for making the time go by faster?" I sat in the barber chair to listen to his response.
"I keep thinking about options of places to go in the Keys, but then I worry that somehow I'll miss the call when it comes. I won't hear it ring in my pocket, or we’ll be busy doing something else. It’s a nasty catch-22.”
I leaned forward in the chair. "I have a suggestion. Why don't you busy yourself with making breakfast while I sort through the email, and we'll go from there?"
He smiled and nodded. "See, just because I'm in charge doesn't mean I always have to be the source of ideas.”
I stood up with coffee in hand and headed for Sir's office. "I'll be back by the time breakfast is ready."
The day's email was a standard mix of fan mail and commercial requests until I made it to the very end. One of the last three messages had a very familiar sender’s address. It came from Dr. Owens, my graduate advis0r. I had to literally pull my fingers off the keyboard to stop myself from opening the message to see what it said. I knew it was the type of message to set aside for Sir unopened, but curiosity nearly got the best of me. Fortunately, it was at the end of the day's trove of messages, so I could stand up immediately after setting it aside and drift toward the kitchen drawn by the aroma of frying bacon.
My Summer Page 14