The captain’s cruel, scarred face was twisted in anger and madness.
“Slit his throat!”
“Run him through!”
“Harpoon him!”
The cabin boy caused a pause when he hollered, “Set him adrift with only one oar!”
Jappy turned to the suggestion.
“Jappy?” Kiki demanded a decision.
Drawing hot and fast, the story rolled out under Kazu’s pencils and pens. He sketched a close-up of Jappy pondering.
Kiki swung her sword and sent the captain’s head rolling.
Kazu looked up from the story to Ed asleep in his bed.
She looked much younger than fourteen in sleep. Without an adult worry. Beautiful and nearly childlike. A lovely deception. A rare Kansas memory came to him. Coming up on a slumbering bobcat on the back forty. One step too close, and all heartfelt attraction was instantly replaced by alarms. The wild animal’s deadly eyes and sharp, bared teeth set him back on his heels.
Two hours had surely passed. Reluctantly setting his pencil down, he stepped over to the bed, leaned over, and kindly shook her shoulder.
Kazu’s workday at the gas station was foggy and clumsy with few customers and no tampering, by choice. By the time he walked back to the Surf Or… Hotel and turned in on the driveway from the Federal Highway 200, his shoes were tripping him up, and he carried a single image—his bed.
Some hours later, he woke, showered, and ate a bagged dinner sitting on the familiar AC ducting in the basement. Beside his can of Pepsi was the yellow card he had found when he was leaving his apartment. He read it again:
Marlaina is cooking papers with the lawyer.
Figure out how yet?
Ed ‘Never Ever Eddie’
Chewing slowly, enjoying a second cheese sandwich, the twelve-year-old pondered the question. Across the cool basement interior, his friend, Sand, emerged from his apartment. Sand looked fit and peaceful and pleased when he spotted Kazu. He changed course for the stairs and sat down beside him.
“How goes things, compadre?” Sand asked.
“Could be better. Will be soon.”
“Seen you with the stunning Ed. Nice.”
“We’re friends, yes.”
“And more? Soon?” Sand arched a single eyebrow, a gesture Kazu had yet to learn how to do but had stored for use in his image-novel.
“Just friends,” he answered.
“That can change. Quickly, if you play your hand well.” Sand’s fist pushed Kazu’s shoulder.
“I have a different problem,” Kazu changed the subject. “I need your help if you’re interested. I can pay you a lot.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Constance.”
“Oh? I’m in. For free. Want to off her?”
“Off her? I like that.”
“How?”
“I’m still putting that together in my mind.”
“When?”
“In a couple of days, I think. Ed and Marlaina need some time to do their part.”
“A couple of days. Sure, let me know what you need. Gotta go. Keep the rich and horny happy.”
Sand hopped off and walked upstairs to the lobby level, leaving Kazu considering the crust of his second sandwich.
Leaving the low deck, Kazu walked down to the wet sand where warm surf washed his legs. The beautifully formed waves continued pumping and exploding in the nighttime darkness.
“Someday soon, I’ll surf you every day,” he promised the waves a hundred yards out.
He turned around. His gaze climbed the stairs to the third deck and the glow from the swimming pool. The guests were having a wild time fueled by alcohol. Each with their male or female escort dancing and laughing under the torch lights.
The hotel itself rose into the black sky—a tall rectangle of canary yellow with its strips of white landings and white doors.
Kazu returned to the top deck. He picked out Sand on a couch with two women in swimsuits, grinning, listening closely to both. The women were sipping from straws in fishbowl-size cocktails. He spotted Constance sitting half submerged at the swim-up bar. She had an audience of three tan and strong-looking men.
He scanned for Ed with no success.
With his thoughts flickering like a movie of plans not fully worked out, he shook his head and went back down the stairs. How to make Constance disappear wasn’t worked out all the way through yet.
“This will help,” he spoke to the rack of loaner surfboards.
He selected one with a shape closest to Billy’s favorite. A short, thick egg-shape with a single, long skeg. Turning from the yellow tower and lights and music and laughter, he waded out to his hips and gave his eyes a full minute to adjust before pushing off the white-sand bottom. Finding his sweet balance spot on the board, he paddled out for the first of many midnight waves. By his third ride, the puzzle pieces slid into place.
34
Three days later, Kazu found a yellow card inside his apartment door when he returned from his workday at the Or Petrol y Restaurante.
Come to the Hotel Or.
Wear your shades,
Ed
He soaped and scrubbed his grease-stained hands in his shower, pulled on a clean shirt, and climbed the stairs and walked across to Casimir’s tool hut.
“Can I borrow the mower again? I need to get to the Hotel Or.”
“No, but I’ll give you a ride,” Casimir said in a secretive whisper. “I got a note as well. Constance disappeared last night. Tell me what happened?”
Looking down into the man’s narrowed eyes and pleased smile, Kazu said, “She is in a better place.”
Casimir climbed aboard the mower and started it, and Kazu climbed up on the back-mounting bar. The flatbed trailer he and Sand had hooked up to the mower the night before was still attached.
Forty minutes later, they turned onto the road to the Or Petrol y Restaurante. A mile in, a gray limousine passed them rolling slow.
When they entered the clearing of the gas station and diner, Casimir steered to the right to the narrow tunnel at the end of a dirt road. The mower was stunning loud as its hot whirling echoed off the dense walls of green vegetation.
Exiting into the evening light and humidity, Casimir and Kazu motored across the lawn in the direction of the dropped bridge to the Hotel Or. A helicopter guarded by four men had landed on the south part of the clearing. Casimir slowed the mower to an idle.
“Whose is it?” Kazu called over the revving mower whirl.
“Doesn’t look military.”
Kazu plucked his sunglasses hanging from the front of his shirt and put them on.
“British Embassy by the markings,” Casimir said before putting the lawnmower in gear.
They crossed the bridge over the green-gray water, passing the limousine parked at the opposite side.
The cool air and shade of the basement were welcomed by both and more so when the mower was shut off and silence expanded outward, embracing them. They walked across the concrete without speaking and climbed the steel stairs side by side.
A man in a gray business suit jammed them up at the lobby door, asking who they were in a crisp British accent.
“We’re employees,” Kazu answered, studying the man’s neutral reaction to seeing his face.
They were allowed to pass and rounded the swimming pool and Christmas tree to the reception area where more men and women in gray suits were pleasantly herding residents among two tables. Refreshments were being served by the gypsy hotel staff, and some residents sat on chairs off to the left. The atmosphere was relaxed but also businesslike. Interviews were being conducted at the tables where two women queried a couple of residents from a printed list of questions.
Kazu spotted Ed back behind the reception desk. She had a supporting grip on Lendall’s arm holding him up in place and smiling out into the gathering. Marlaina stood with a man and woman, both in suits, at the entrance to the hallway to the hotel offices.
Casimir left Kazu’s side and crossed to the refreshment table. Kazu walked to the corner of the reception desk. Looking at Lendall’s hand twisted around his paper bag, he whispered across to Ed, “I got the card. What do you need?”
“Just wanted you close to my side,” she whispered and flashed a smile to him before focusing on keeping Lendall upright. “They’re looking for the owner,” Ed continued in full voice. “And interviewing the residents to confirm their safety and their desire to continue living here. Apparently, someone contacted the embassy about possible abuses and neglect. That’s why they want to talk with Constance. As of right now, they want to avoid involving the local police. My interview is next.”
“They can’t find the owner?” Kazu feigned confusion, mindful of the man and woman with Marlaina, both in earshot.
“Not yet, but they’ve sent a second team to the beach hotel. Probably find her entertaining guests,” Ed’s lying was also confident and smooth.
“How can I help?” Kazu asked, looking away to the residents among the tables and couches at the base of the big tree.
“Please go up to the third floor and see if the embassy team needs anything.”
He was about to step away when two gray suits closed in on his sides. He tapped his ball cap’s brim a touch lower over his sunglasses. The woman to his left was thanking Marlaina for her time. The man at Kazu’s right leaned to the desk counter.
“Ms. Snapp, if you will, we ‘re ready to talk to you now about your mother’s whereabouts.”
Kazu looked down and to his side. The man held an open file of old-looking documents.
“Have you found my mom?” Ed asked in pained fear.
“No, not yet, but please don’t worry, we will. I’m sure she’s fine. Now, perhaps we could talk in the hotel office?”
Kazu stepped back and away, watching Ed and the two embassy employees leave the lobby turning to the hall leading to the offices.
On his way to the third floor, Kazu paused in the alcove at the start of the black tiles to the dark second story. He looked into the black air for any sign of light—perhaps a curious sweeping flashlight. He watched for a full minute before heading up to the next floor.
Reaching the landing to the strange exteriors of the suite fronts, he braved raising his sunglasses for an un-tinted view before lowering them quickly. Three embassy employees were walking in his direction along the lawn of the landing, files in hand.
“You are?” the lead woman asked.
“An employee. I was sent up to help if you need it.”
“We’re done but thank you. Double-checked all the suites and have all the pensioners downstairs.”
They passed him by, entering the alcove.
When their footsteps could no longer be heard, he raised his sunglasses again.
“Looks like a village,” he spoke to the rectangle of suite fronts, each with a curious façade. The open air of the atrium and the massive pine tree was brushed with light from the glass roof above. To his left was a trashy looking residence of high grass and abandoned appliances and toys. There was a stern, church-like shopfront up further and around the bend. A cozy looking shop had a hanging sign that read, ‘Monkeyville.’ Across the way, partially blocked by the Christmas tree, there was a suite front with beach sand and a palm tree and beach wood trim. Instead of turning to his right to see the other units, he pulled his shades back on and turned to leave.
The door to the small suite at his side was open, and he looked inside. The front room was tidy and impersonal without any visible belongings and backed by full bookshelves. A canvas bag filled with stacked paperbacks rested against the shelves.
He pulled the door closed and walked the soft green grass to the alcove and descended the stairs. Passing the blackened second-floor landing, he thought of Ed ‘Never Ever Eddie.’
“Ms. Snapp.” He smiled fully and with delight.
35
The tropical storm season came and went without any significant damaging weather, save the torrents of rain and days of bestial, gray boiling clouds. No hurricanes, no earthquakes. With the return of clear skies also came changes to the hotel’s management.
As sunny days closed into balmy nights, the prostitutes were transitioned to other jobs. The tureens of icy, free drinks continued. Safecracking and credit card number thefts ended, with a new focus on encouraging guests to book return visits. The yellow Surf Or… Hotel’s first annual surf contest was organized, and advertisements went out to the surfer magazines and travel sights.
Up north at the gray stone Hotel Or, the changes were slight. The drugging air treatment system was a thing of the past, and the mandatory midday meals were made optional, relieving the reclusive residents and letting them live in their preferred isolation.
Because the owner was fourteen-year-old Ed, Marlaina was the adult face and voice for the properties. As operations manager, having to travel to and from both hotels, Marlaina had her mining car modified. The bench was padded and upholstered in elegant black leather. A construction crew was given the task of maintaining the safety of the tunnel ceilings and walls and the two bridges.
Each evening, Marlaina drove her mining car to the Surf Or… Hotel where she reveled in her managerial role, smiling and chatting while solving whatever minor problems the guests might have. She was generous with the comping of drinks and desserts while standing back and only approaching guests and tables when beckoned, which was often. Before she left the Hotel Or for the evening’s festivities at the yellow property, she climbed to the roof with a fresh basket of frozen meatballs and practiced her seven-iron swing.
Ed kept her suite on the third floor of the Hotel Or. The only upgrade she had the work crew make was the removal of the carpet in favor of white tiled flooring. With her new companion, she was finally able to abandon the couch and sleep in the big bed.
She spent most of her days in the Hotel Or’s offices learning the business quickly and dealing with guest and resident issues as well as planning additional improvements. Putting puzzle pieces into place and discovering new ones, her confidence expanded. There were calls with suppliers, vendors, the Or’s greedy lawyer as well as staffing problems with the gypsies. With the cutback on lucrative criminal schemes, two families from the clan departed for more profitable opportunities.
Always respectful and sensitive to the preferred privacy of her residents, she nonetheless basked in any opportunity to interact with them and solve whatever issue they had.
Finishing her final rounds along the lawn of the third floor where, as expected, she met no one, she returned to her downstairs office.
“Enough.” She smiled at her secretary, and they left together.
Parting company in the lobby, Ed looked around in vain for Lendall at the desk before climbing the alcove stairs to the roof.
Marlaina’s golfing with one hand was still swing, look, and curse. Ed sat in her chair just behind the woman on the raised deck of green faux grass.
“Come to the yellow with me this evening?” Marlaina placed a frozen meatball on a tee.
“Sure, yes, I’d like to see the sea.”
“Three more swings and we’ll go.”
“Can I bring my friend along?”
“As long as she doesn’t poop on the leather.”
“I’ll bring the baby wipes.”
Marlaina chuckled, aimed, and swung her seven iron. “Okay if I buy a larger inner tube?” She glared at the splash of the ball twenty yards to the right of the floating flag. “Maybe one from a tractor.”
“Order it.” Ed smiled.
“If you haven’t heard, we lose two more cars full of them tomorrow.”
“I heard. It’s fine. Let them go. They’re expensive. We can hire locals. All we’ll need is a bus.”
“A tractor tire and a bus. Just another day in hotel management.” Marlaina selected a ball from her basket and drew a different club from the bag.
“Five iron?” Ed asked.
“Yes, I�
��m chipping or whatever you call it where the ball is aimed left and goes right. You saw the letter from the insurance company?”
“Read the letter. Took two calls. Told them I wanted the policy canceled and the investigation stopped. Sounds like if I sign the waivers, and they don’t have to pay out, everyone will be happy. Our lawyer’s being a pain in the ass. A well-paid pain in the ass. Without a body, the inheritance is still hung up. We’re going with the made-up death certificate from that town where her yacht…”
“The yacht without an engine?”
“Yes, there…”
“Now that was close.” Marlaina was delighted, the last shot splashing ten feet from the flag and tube. The expanding circle of water from the where the ball sank was alive with the mouths and backs of meat-hungry fish.
“I sometimes wonder if Kazu put Constance in the moat. He ever say?” Marlaina asked.
“He always changes the subject.”
“Boys and their secrets.”
“I guess.”
“Last ball, then let’s go enjoy the guests.”
Marlaina’s final ball hit the water a good fifteen yards from the flag.
“Can I also order a new five iron?”
Kazu finished up his workday at the tool table near the rear of the service bay at the gas station, plying his hands with the gooey grease dissolver. Damara, the bitter one, stood to his side wiping the dissolvent off her own hands with a fresh orange rag.
“Are you leaving with the others?” Kazu asked.
“No, I’m content here. Like automobiles. Like watching you bumble as I train you.”
The two of them closed the gas station for the night and Damara walked across to the restaurant which she still ran. He climbed in behind the wheel of the stolen and repainted and re-plated Buick he had purchased from Ed, first adjusting his backpack to help himself sit forward to better reach the pedals. He drove out to the Federal Highway and turned to the right and got the car up to speed driving home to the Surf Or… Hotel.
The Girl in the Hotel Page 19