Death of The Old Man

by Karl Tutt

  I threw on an old polo shirt and some jeans. I glanced at the mirror as I hustled up the companionway. I looked like shit, but duty called.

  Frank led me down the gray hall to his cell. “You want to go in?” he asked.

  I nodded. The jailer hit a button and I heard a loud click. The door creaked open. The Ange, the Obi Man, sat on a sagging bunk. The cops had taken the piercings, but I could see the holes in his nostrils and the ear where the skull had gleamed. He looked at me as I came in, grinning through yellow teeth, but without a hint of malice.

  “Professor, thank you for your visit. No doubt you recognize me despite the darkness at our last encounter. I am the man you think I am. I hope our last conversation enlightened you to some extent. I will be gone soon. Ask your questions. I will answer what I can.”

  “Where is Hallemina?”

  “I was in the process of pursuing that information when your friend with the badge accosted me. The girl is innocent. She needs protection from the Jumbie. One of us must provide it. At this moment I have nothing. When I am free, I will give my utmost attention to this matter. She is an innocent child. Her death curses us all.”

  I was confused. I believed him to be the Ange Noir. Hallemina’s death might in some way protect him. I remembered Sunny’s pronouncement. He was lying, trying to lead me away from any attempt at the truth. His eyes danced. He seemed to be evaluating his strategy and my reactions to it.

  “What of The Twins?”

  “You have correctly ascertained that I am one of them. But Noir or Blanc? You think you know, but sadly I am forbidden to enlighten you. It is a path you must follow on your own. You will know when it is time. Nevertheless, I repeat my former advice. Follow the one who shines.”

  I heard footsteps behind me. Frank and a man in a tan suit stood at the door of the cell.

  “Say no more,” the tan suit instructed. The Ange looked at the floor and nodded.

  The lock snapped again and Frank motioned me out of the cell. A guard with a Glock strapped on his hip stood watchfully while tan suit took my place. We trudged back to Frank’s office.

  “It’s him,” I said, “but there’s no way I could swear that in court. Too dark. Not enough time. I was drugged. A good attorney would make hash out of it.”

  “Yeah. Any other masterful psychic revelations, Mr. Ghostcatcher?”

  I gave him a disgusted look and shook my head.

  “Okay. I’ll stay on it between writing parking tickets.”

  It was my invitation to leave. I decided to walk back to Land’s End. Maybe it would clear my head. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew I needed to eat if I was going to think. I stopped in Pepe’s and ordered a hamburger, fries and a cold Yeungling draft. It was a bit late for lunch and the crowd had thinned out. I sat on a wooden bench in a corner of the courtyard, my head spinning. The face of the old man, the tears of Hallemina, the yellow grin of the Ange Noir. And Sunny. It was kaleidoscope, the colors ever changing, but never taking a shape that I could make out. My stomach churned. I couldn’t finish the burger. I slogged the last of the beer. It had become tepid and tasteless. I paid my tab, and headed for KAMALA. I lay on the settee and tried to get comfortable.

  My floating beauty hadn’t left the slip in a couple months. The growth was building around the waterline. The halyards slapped and the dock lines strained. We needed to get away to a place where the water was blue and the wind whistled without any demons to quiet her. I needed to hear the rustle of canvas and feel the rhythm of gentle swells beneath the hull. I knew the dolphins were out there, breaking the water, frolicking and ready to lead me to some measure of peace, but it would have to wait. This wasn’t the time.

  I went back to the words of the Ange. He had readily admitted to the kidnapping, but never mentioned his two accomplices. Why hadn’t they hurt me? At least tried to scare me away? Again, something was eluding me. It drifted on the edge of my consciousness making me the fool. It was obvious. I should know, but I didn’t.

  The words, “Follow the one who shines,” still haunted me. He admitted he was one of The Twins, but who was the other? I assumed that Hallemina had returned to Trinidad to be safe with her mother, yet he spoke only of her death. I went back to the symbols that had been painted on her door. What was I missing? Would it result in the death of a child that the Ange believed so innocent?

  It was a Roundtable night. I didn’t feel much like it, but I figured I was better off listening to someone else instead of wrestling with the voices playing pinball inside my head.

  I walked slowly down to the Green Parrot. The tourists leered like gargoyles, chuckling into their fists at the sad man with his eyes focused on the sidewalk. The music and laughter assaulted me from a block away. When I walked in, Sunny smiled and waved from behind the bar. It should have made me feel better, but the sense of loss was coming at me like a freight train.

  The table was full. Captain Sal, Fritz and Peg, Chris with his latest number one with a bullet, Whipsaw and Miss Julianne, Louis with an Eva Mendez clone, and the lovely Miss Tracy. I sat across from Louis and watched the clone cling to his arm and disappear into his brown eyes. The silly island schtick was gone, replaced by the smooth Latin Lover. He was doing his best Julio Igleisas, but in the tones of a Princeton scholar. She lapped him up like a starving cat.

  When Maleeva walked in, every male in the place suffered instant whiplash. Her sweet silk ebony hair teased its way over her left shoulder. On the right, a loose satiny blouse hung down, The seams meeting under her arm exposed the dark creamy flesh. Her eyes flashed fire and her hips swayed in a languorous invitation. “Look boys, but don’t touch.” She stopped behind Tracy’s chair, put a perfectly manicured hand on her shoulder, and whispered in her ear. Tracy laughed and reached a hand to caress Maleeva’s face. The goddess waved at the rest of the Roundtable, kissed me on the cheek and took the seat next to me. Her perfume completed the ensemble. I could feel the envy from every man in the room closing in.

  “And so, Dr. Ghostcatcher, how goes the hunt?” she whispered in my ear.

  “Not much you don’t know,” I told her, “Frank arrested a guy who is evidently one of The Twins. He was at Hallemina’s house. She is missing, but I suspect you know that.”

  “I do. I have been searching for your other Twin. I am not sure he exists. I have asked many questions of those who might know, but there is no information forthcoming. I am believing more and more that these are old wives’ tales. As for Hallemina, she has probably returned to Trinidad.”

  “Yeah, that’s our best guess. When I went by her house, there was no sign of life. The place was boarded up. Nothing but a couple of symbols sprayed on the plywood that covered the door.”

  “Errant children having their fun, no doubt.”

  I nodded. A dark man came up behind her. She turned and hugged him and they began to chatter in a language I had no hope of understanding.

  Louis ignored us. He was locked in his own heaven with Eva as his archangel. Despite the muted tones, I was too close not to hear their conversation. The tones trilled and rolled, Louis in that lilted perfect English that would impress the Queen, herself. I’ve never seen eyelashes bat like Eva’s. She was pure TKO and Louis was going to make sure she was his, if only for tonight. I turned to ask Whipsaw when the Wreckers were next at Schooner’s. It suddenly hit me. I stopped in mid-sentence. The night they got me. The hand on the shoulder. The familiar voice out of the darkness. The reassurance that I was safe.

  That voice was sitting across the table. I turned to Louis. He was looking straight into my eyes. He dropped his head for a moment and leaned across the rough wood.

  “I knew you would discover this thing. We must talk, but not tonight.” He leaned back to the archangel and smiled.

  My mind was whirling. I finished my beer and pleaded work on a paper with a short deadline. I stopped by the bar. Sunny was scrambling and the tip jar was running over with green.

  “I need to see
you tonight, even if it’s late. Come to KAMALA.” She looked a bit puzzled, but also pleased.

  “I’ll be there,” she said.

  Chapter 15

  I heard her foot on the deck at about eleven. I opened the companionway and she slid below. She smelled of sweat, smoke, and stale beer, but she was Sunny. I took her in my arms and tasted her neck. She smiled and put a damp hand to my cheek. In that moment, it was all okay. I wanted it to last forever. I realized that no matter what happened in the future, we had something that could not be replaced. I poured her a glass of Cabernet and filled a tumbler with ice, water and a generous hit of Evan Williams for myself.

  “T.K., you look worried, confused.”

  “I am,” I said.

  I told her about the day. She sipped the ruby liquid and stared first at me, then at the floor. She listened with laser intensity, but I knew when I was finished, the conversation would have to shift gears.

  “So that’s it? No real information from La Tour. ‘Follow the one who shines.’ Whatever the hell that means, we’ve heard it before. You think Louis is involved, maybe even a follower of the Ange Noir? I’m not sure I believe it. I’ve never seen him even swat a mosquito.”

  “I know. I sure as hell don’t want to buy it, but I’m also sure he was one of those who drugged me. He as much as said so. I’ve always thought of Louis as a friend. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t hurt. He said we’ll talk. I hope I can live with what he says.”

  “Listen to yourself, T.K. You chose the words . . . live? Yeah. I just want you alive. You can still step away from all of this. The old man is gone. There’s nothing you can do about that. Hallemina is probably safe. No one else we know is at risk. Frank probably has the whole thing under control by now.”

  “You’re making perfect sense. You always do, but I simply want to put it all together. Then I can leave it. Get back to keeping count of Chris’ leggy paramours, listening to Captain Sal’s explosions, and hearing Whipsaw and the Wreckers testify to those sweet blues.”

  She laughed quietly, then drilled her eyes into mine. There were no tears.

  “So what about us? I’m going to Beaufort. You know that. I have to. You know that, too. It’s a chance that won’t come around again. I’m getting older, T.K. I gotta keep trying to find out who I am. If I don’t, I’ll shrivel and die, drown in my own angst.”

  She was quiet for a moment. She was listening to her own words reverberate in her head. She believed them and I had no choice.

  “Will you go with me?”

  It was the first time she’d actually asked. I wanted to embrace her, tell her she was the only thing that mattered. Pack up KAMALA and head north. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if I was ready, didn’t know if I ever would be. I loved her. She made me whole, but so did the entire Key West scene. I could do it for her, but would I regret every day I spent in South Carolina playing the good faculty significant other, missing the weird people and aimless existence that made the Keys the perfect escape? I didn’t know.

  “Can you stay the night?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. If I fall into your arms and we make that sweet love, I could sink into a blissful oblivion and never recover. I might, for a while, quiet those demons that torment me, but get lost forever in darkness. I just have to go.”

  I put my arms around her and held on. Her lips went to my neck. Her breath warmed me, whispered a blessing. Then she pushed me away.

  “It won’t work, T.K. It can’t. I won’t let it.”

  Tears crawled down my cheeks. “Stop her, “I screamed to myself, but I couldn’t.

  The knock on the hull came early. I started to ignore it, but too many things were slithering through my mind. I pulled the hatch open. Louis was standing on the dock looking like an exhausted cowboy who had been bull riding all night long. He was dressed for work. Khakis, a red polo shirt that read the Raw Bar on the left breast. It was a sad contrast to the gray that permeated his skin. I motioned him aboard.

  “You need coffee and so do I.”

  He nodded and nearly collapsed on the settee.

  “The girl was beautiful,” I said.

  “And very energetic, but you know I am not here to tell that tale. Even a humble bartender must maintain a shred of discretion if he is to follow noble and timeless pursuits.” He grinned like the Louis I hoped I knew.

  “You have many questions,” he continued, “and I have many answers, but you must understand that there is only so much I can reveal. I am bound by a pledge. I will not imperil my honor, though you may think it a violation of sorts. Please indulge me, even if you think me evasive.”

  I nodded. “I promise to try.”

  The Cuban coffee was brewing, A deep, rich smell filled the cabin. I filled two mugs. He declined sugar and cream. “Black and beautiful,” he murmured as he inhaled the earthy scent.

  “I am the servant of the Obi Man. I was there when you were abducted. This you know. There was never any intent to harm you. This, you also know. I am of the Obeah. It has lived in my family for centuries, but we only seek evil to destroy it. The dark one lives and breathes in Key West. There is a circle; some might call it a coven. It is led by an angel of darkness, a witch, if you will. So far, we have kept it a bay, though it drives to expand and consume others. Men seek its power. It gives them a dubious dominion and forces many to bend to its will. Fear is the key and it is real. The Jumbie is violent and deadly. It can drive a man to madness, to hell . . . even to death.”

  “So how do you combat this malevolence?”

  “I can only tell you that white magic is the enemy of the black. Our leader is a shaman, a sorcerer, a pulse of light, the anathema to the dark angel. The battle is eternal. It has no beginning and no end. We hope only for a balance that is slightly tipped to the righteous.”

  “And these are The Twins?”

  “So be it, as it has always been. You have met our shaman. He tells you to follow the one who shines. That is all.”

  “It can’t be all, Louis. I need help. I must know more if I am to join in the fight. What can I do?”

  “There is little. It is our battle. We are strong. We have forces, allies. We must not fail. There is too much at stake.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  He took a long drink from his mug. His eyes gleamed and his color had returned. He looked strong and determined. He measured me. There were questions in his mind. I didn’t think I had answered them, but he chose to trust me.

  “There are twelve, like the disciples of Jesus, but they are disciples of the devil. They meet so they may become stronger. The night is Thursday on the rising of the full moon. I know little else. But believe me, you are the Ghostcatcher. You are in possession of more than you realize.”

  I shook my head in frustration and disgust. I was no Ghostcatcher and I didn’t know shit. There were miles of mangroves and swamps north of Stock Island. A man could get lost and never find anything but mosquitoes, snakes, gators and ultimately, death. He put the mug down and left before I could corner him.

  I thought about calling Frank, but I didn’t have much more than vague information and mumbo jumbo. There was nothing solid, and I wasn’t sure what to believe, myself. I wanted to trust Louis, but I had learned things about him that defied any logical explanation. I needed more and I figured I would have to find out on my own.

  Chapter 16

  Thursday came quickly. I borrowed Sunny’s old Saab and waited. I didn’t know what for. I had gone up to the dock house for a Key West Tribune. When I returned, I saw the light flashing on the answering machine. I pushed the button.

  “An old Buick. Silver. Around dark. They know the place.”

  So that was my huge tip. Great. I was supposed to figure out which Buick, what time, what they were doing, and where they were going. It made me crazy. Ghostcatcher my ass. I guess they thought I had ESP and all the psychic powers of Houdini or some other weirdo who claimed to know
the past, the future and everything else between heaven and earth. That sure as hell wasn’t me. Why couldn’t they get it? Sunny, Louis, Durant. They were operating in an alternate universe. I am a washed up English professor, that’s all. What didn’t they understand?

  I hung around the dock in case something else came up. It didn’t. I’m not sure why, but I pulled the Taurus 38 from its hidey hole. I cleaned it and loaded five slugs into the chambers. Around five, I made a sandwich and had a stiff belt of Evan Williams. That didn’t help either. I tried to come up with a strategy. I had very little information. Around dark. North of Stock Island. An old Buick. Silver. Some sort of ceremony. I couldn’t sit any longer. I had to try something. The sun was setting.

  I fired up the old Saab and headed up A1A, the Taurus tucked into my belt. There’s only one way in and out of Key West. I pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant that just hadn’t made it. The revolver pinched my belly, but for some reason, I was glad I had it. The building was dark, the shroud of pure abandonment hanging about it. It was quiet and lonely. I thought about Sunny. “Will you go?” she had said. A black and ugly sadness swallowed me.

  I’d been sitting for about an hour. I was tired, confused . . . ready to admit defeat. Let them have their little ceremony, practice their self-styled magic, and wait for the Jumbie to show up and lead them on to glorious victory over whatever. I started the Saab and fiddled with the radio knob. Then I saw headlights headed north. The engine spit and rumbled, in bad need of points and plugs. It came around the corner with purpose, flashing a dull silver. I waited a minute and pulled out of the parking lot. I followed at a comfortable distance for about five miles. The Buick made a right turn onto a dirt road. I killed my lights. The cloud of dirt and sand was easy to follow in the glow of the full moon. The Buick came to a stop. At least three people got out. I couldn’t see them clearly in the shadows of the trees, but at least one of them was built like a pro linebacker. The glow of what looked like firelight flickered back in the mangroves.