Key Manatee Read online

  “That’s great, Tony. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?”

  “Please do, kid! I never forget when someone saves my life. I owe you big. Whatever you want, just name it.”

  “What I need is information. There’s an outfit down here called Blue Manatee. They’re barging in fill to build a big development adjoining Key West, building their own island, actually.” I hadn’t thought of it like that until then. “I think it’s an outfit called DDT behind it. I need to know who’s running DDT and anything I can find out about them.”

  “I don’t understand. You want to apply for a job? What do you want with those people? Me, I’d strongly advise staying the fuck away from DDT.”

  “I have a high regard for your advice and would like to do just that, but they’ve been sending large, ugly men to watch my home lately and I think things may be taking a turn for the worse soon. I’m not sure what I’m asking here, Tony. I guess knowing some names and whereabouts of the people behind DDT would be a help.”

  “Kid, all I know right off is these are some bad hombres, but I’ll see what I can do. Let me make a couple calls and get back with you.”

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  “While you’re waiting, you want I should have somebody whacked for you? Ex-wife? Boss? The President?”

  “No, I don’t want to put you out, Tony.”

  “Hey, no problemo! Glad to do it. How about a stock tip? Or a horse? Got one in the fifth at Gulfstream I’d bet my grandmother on.”

  “No, really…”

  “What about Hoffa? Want to know what he’s up to these days? Or how about those inventions you hear about only once? You know, like some guy builds a car that runs off dog farts and sand, and then you never hear about him again? Want to know what happens to those people? I got the inside dope on lots of interesting shit, all you have to do is ask.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  The call came around three am. I’d taken the cellphone into the bedroom with me after the excitement earlier with the two armed men. I was having another nightmare when it rang. I hoped it didn’t wake anyone else. Tony sounded different.

  “I had to call in a couple of big favors here and found out some shit I wish I didn’t know. These DDT whack-offs are just a front. This development you mentioned? It’s just for starters. The big picture has Key West as you know it swallowed up completely pretty quick. Sanitized is the word my sources used, and not in a good way.” He went quiet for a few beats.

  “The master plan has them filling most of the shallow water all the way to the Dry Tortugas. These people are talking a new six-lane highway through the Keys, a major jet-port in Key West, and cruise ships by the hundreds. It seems being the only Caribbean island hooked to the US mainland has tremendous potential.” I could hear him breathing hard on the other end of the line. “Look, kid, you said you live on a houseboat? I’d strongly advise you pull anchor and get the fuck out of Dodge real soon. These are some very scary people, in fact, I may have to lay low for a while myself now that I stuck my nose in it. My sources said these people really got their shorts in a bunch about someone writing a book about someone they whacked. I’d hate to be that guy, if you know what I mean. Take care of yourself, kid.” He was about to hang up.

  “Wait, Tony, you didn’t tell me who’s behind all this.” There was just static, I was afraid he’d hung up.

  “Okay, after this we’re even, got it? I don’t even want to say the name of this bunch of assholes, but that six-lane highway? It comes from Orlando.”

  “You mean?”

  “Yep, they’re going to turn Key West into a giant theme park.”

  ∨ Key Manatee ∧

  Twenty

  The next morning I woke up groggy from another bad nightmare when someone kept beating on the bedroom door. It felt like buzzards had been roosting in my mouth and I could barely get out of bed to let Slip in. He gave me the eye.

  “Oh, shit, partner. You ain’t looking too hot.” Actually, I was hot, burning up. I managed to make it back to the bed. Consuelo came in and felt my forehead.

  “Well, he’s got a fever and looks like death eating a cracker. I say he’s sick.” Slip nodded in agreement. “You better stay in bed. Slip, see if you can find a thermometer in the first aid kit.”

  I didn’t have a real firm grasp on the passage of time or what was going on right then. Later on it was determined by Consuelo’s sister, who actually knew about such things, that I’d had a relapse of swamp fever brought on by lack of sleep and stress. Bed rest, antibiotics, and plenty of fluids were prescribed.

  As the day went on I only felt worse. I was so weak I had to have help getting to the bathroom. I knew there were things that required my immediate attention but I was almost helpless and kept slipping in and out of nightmares. My mind was a blur of concerns about Mary Ann and what was happening to Key West. At one point it suddenly came to me what had been causing my nightmares but I couldn’t hold onto the thought, it kept slipping away to play with the zombies, manatees, teamsters, voodoo dolls, and murderous cartoon characters dancing through my fevered brain.

  At one point I smelled something nice, something familiar. I gathered all my energy and opened one eye enough to see Consuelo lying next to me on the bed. Little sobs coming as she lightly rubbed the same place on my shoulder over and over. Another time I saw Slip sitting next to the bed reading a book.

  I woke again later and found myself alone in the room. I slipped down to the floor. Too weak to stand, I crawled to the corner furthest from the bed and fell right back to sleep. I woke from a terrible nightmare in bed with my fishing partners in the room watching me. Both looked really worried, especially Slip.

  “How you doing, ol’ fella? We found you on the floor.”

  “I know. The bed makes me sick.” They exchanged looks. My voice weak, just a whisper. Consuelo sat on the bed.

  “Taco, you need to stay in bed so you’ll get better.”

  “No. Get me to the couch.” Arguing with either of these two was bad enough when I was well, I didn’t have the strength to spare. “I had a dream. I’ll die if I stay in this bed.” I didn’t really have that dream, but I did know I had to get away from the bed.

  They finally relented and I slept hard on the couch for several hours. When I came to it was dark outside and the jackhammer headache had come down a couple of notches. I could open my eyes without thinking my head was about to split open. Consuelo walked by and saw I was awake.

  “Hey. You feeling better?” She sat down next to me on the sofa and put her hand on my forehead. “Still hot. You’ve been delirious. As soon as Slip gets back we’ll help you back to bed.” It took all of my strength, but I moved her cool hand back to my forehead and held it there.

  “No, right here is fine. No bed.” Her hand felt so good I’m sure I smiled before going back to sleep.

  I came to again later and realized the cool hand was now a washcloth. The pain in my head had eased a bit more. I tried to sit up and the pain came right back. Consuelo appeared and handed me a couple of aspirin and a cup of water. She helped me sit and I finally got the aspirin down.

  “Any better?”

  “A little. As long as I don’t move.” She helped me lay back down. I felt like a helpless baby in her strong arms. Things were coming to me that I always seemed too busy to notice before. “You’re strong.” I smiled. “You’re also very beautiful, Consuelo. I guess I never really-”

  The door opened and Slip barged in. Consuelo, the beautiful goddess holding my hand, looked at him. I couldn’t see the look aimed at poor Slip, but I felt her body tense when the door opened and Slip went backwards about a foot like he’d been punched in the chest.

  “Oops! Hope I’m not interrupting.” Slip looked really nervous, like he might need to borrow the fire extinguisher again. “Taco, something’s going on down the dock by the Wilbur and there’s a cop out here needs to see you.” I didn’t feel up to another visit from the cops. Probably g
ot a report I was hiding nuclear bombs in my bathroom. Consuelo took it.

  “Slip, for crying out loud, tell the man TB’s sick and for him to come back later.”

  “Okay.” Slip closed the door behind him but was back a minute later, looking worried. “Y’all ain’t gonna like this. He says there’s been a murder, another Marty. Says they found the body on the Wilbur and he’s here to arrest Taco.”

  ♦

  I was in no condition to go anywhere, so getting hauled down to the police station didn’t do me a lot of good. My bad luck held as the same cop who had seen me looking for Julie at her dead brother’s house was the arresting officer. I guess he thought I was faking sick.

  I managed to stay conscious through the interrogation, but the pain in my head got so bad I eventually dry heaved and passed out.

  ♦

  There was a light in my eyes. A spotlight passed over me, then over the rest of the crowd seated in the big ballroom. A big booming voice filled the room.

  “And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the John D. MacDonald Award for Best Florida Novel Ever Written! Presenting the award, last year’s winner, Carl Hiaasen!”

  Everyone was clapping like crazy. Mr. Hiaasen stood there smiling while the applause went on and on. I was at a table in front and had to look up. The man must have been at least ten feet tall.

  When the crowd finally settled down and let him get in a word, he started in about how honored he was to present the award, how important the award was, and then just as he made for the home stretch of getting to the point, he looked right at me and I knew I’d won. That’s when I noticed I didn’t have on any pants.

  The applause started again after Mr. Hiaasen said my name. He pointed at me and motioned for me to join him on stage. I didn’t have on any underwear either.

  Just as the panic was making it hard for me to breathe, I passed out.

  My feet were wet and my head hurt. I was outside, on an old dock with my bare feet dangling in the warm water.

  “You don’t need all that crap! All that fame just makes a man take himself far too seriously anyway.” I looked around to see who was talking. A big, good-looking guy holding a fishing pole sat a few feet down the dock. Man looked like he’d seen his share and then some of tough scrapes.

  “That fame can make you lose sight of the important things in life, you’re better off the way you are, believe me.” He reeled in a sizable trout, then tossed it back in the water.

  “Shoot, most people work so hard for so long, they finally get retired they don’t know what to do with themselves.” Next he reeled in a six foot sailfish, looked it over, tossed it back.

  “Poor bastards spend most of their time trying to convince themselves they enjoy golf, or else just sit around bored to tears. Half the time they go back to work just so they’ll have something to do.” Another cast and another fish. This time a black marlin the size of a Buick. He showed me the fish and gave me a thumbs up before dropping it back in the water.

  “You take my advice and grab some time off whenever you can. Take your retirement in installments while you’re still young enough to enjoy the booze, the fishing, and especially the women.” He gave me a big wink and started saying something about the clothes locker on my houseboat but stopped. The guy looked dead at me with slate gray eyes. “That big yacht with the twins, the one that came in a few days ago. That’s the ticket.” Just then something big grabbed his line and pulled him off the dock and under the water. I noticed I was naked again.

  Something nipped at my toe, then all my toes. I couldn’t get my feet out of the water, they were stuck. I looked down and there were dozens of little blue manatees wearing mouse ears, and they were eating my feet. Up to this point I’d thought manatees were gray, bigger, and vegetarians.

  About the time I finally had the sense to look at my hands and count fingers to see if I was dreaming, I came to, in the hospital. The door woke me.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Like a doormat at a cattle stampede. How long I been out?”

  “Couple days. Consuelo’s working a shift at the hotel, she should be getting off soon though. She’s pretty upset with the police.” Slip didn’t look too happy with them either, and I already knew how I felt. “Doc here at the hospital said you were talking in your sleep earlier when he shined a light in your eyes.”

  “What did I say?”

  “Something about your pants.”

  “Am I still under arrest?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Slip started picking through an untouched food tray by the bed. “The Marty Manatee, the one who came up with that song about Blue Manatee they been playing on the radio? He’s the one they found dead on the deck of the Wilbur. Blunt instrument to the head. Your heavy flashlight was lying next to the body.”

  “I remember some of that from my visit to the police station.” It took me a minute to put it together. “The flashlight. That time we came back and I said someone had been on the houseboat?”

  “Exactly. Pretty classic frame-up, I’d say.”

  “And they think I did it?”

  “Looks like their extensive investigation has it narrowed down to you, and not much else. But, I heard the time of death and some other crime scene stuff puts the man murdered with your flashlight somewhere else, then dumped on board the Wilbur.”

  “The two who tried to come on my houseboat?”

  “Could be. They might’ve been pissed enough about getting scared off like that to come back and get sloppy. We seen to it the cops got some anonymous tips on the car those two were driving, but the cops are mighty hard-headed, still thinking you done it.” Slip sniffed a piece of bacon from the tray, then ate it. “They been getting real interested in Blondie and me lately. I think they’re wanting to try to pin JB on the three of us. We been advised not to leave town.” He selected some toast and made what looked like a grits sandwich. “This ain’t bad for hospital food.”

  The door opened – Consuelo.

  “Hey, you’re awake! How do – ” She saw the food tray and Slip poking the sandwich in his mouth as fast as he could. “Slip! You’re eating Taco’s food? The man is on death’s door and you’re eating his food?” She had him by the ear, twisting, which wasn’t helping him swallow. I tried not to laugh since I knew it would hurt. My voice was still weak.

  “Consuelo.”

  She turned loose of Slip and an instant later was perched on the edge of the bed, holding my hand in hers. I gave it a little squeeze.

  “I need to talk to you both. That yacht, the one that pulled in next to the Wilbur a few days ago? The police talked to those people didn’t they?” Slip sat in a chair by the bed while keeping a wary eye on my hand holder. Consuelo shook her head.

  “The one with the twins? It’s gone, but you’re right, I think it was there that night. They must have left the next day, before the cops found the body.” She looked at Slip, then me. “You think they had something to do with the murder?”

  I was still trying to remember the crazy dream. “No, but remember the father?”

  Slip grunted. “Yeah, never seen a man more protective of his daughters. Them two teenage girls looked like trouble on the hoof, ready to jump ship the first time the old man turned his back. No wonder he had that fancy boat of his set up with all those alarms and surveillance cameras and stuff.”

  Consuelo picked it up before I could. “Of course! With the way he kept that boat lit up at night, chances are one of those cameras caught anything going on aboard the Wilbur.” She pulled out her cell and started pushing numbers. “What was the name of that boat?”

  Slip smiled big. “The Eye Candy Too as I well remember. Out of Miami. Shouldn’t be hard to find.”

  The cop that’d been outside in the hall came in and said visiting time was over, my companions would have to leave. This got him some hard looks, but they headed out a few minutes later, Consuelo still on the phone with a Detective Gonzales.

  The door woke me
again a few hours later. Slip came in, acting sneaky. “How about a beer?” He pulled a longneck from under his shirt, wiped it off and opened it. Then took one out for himself. I tried a sip, it was damn good.

  “How’d you get this past the hospital people, not to mention the cop?”

  Even bigger smile. “No cop! I’m proud to say you’re once again a free man. The owner of the yacht came through with the video. May I be struck down if I ever say anything bad about over-protective fathers again!”

  “All clear then?”

  “Yep, video tape had two big fellas hauling the dead guy on the Wilbur and putting the flashlight down on the deck. Before hauling ass they looked around and right at the camera. Cops had to admit it wasn’t you, me, or Consuelo.” Slip looked happy as a clam, and rightly so.

  There wasn’t much doubt in my mind the ones who did it worked for Blue Manatee. “I would imagine those two are laying low, maybe out of town by now.”

  “Well, that’ll give the cops something to do. Consuelo’s back at the hotel, but you got another visitor.”

  He got up and stuck his head out the door for a second. Everything was still a bit slow for me, so when I looked up there was Jimmy Redd. He was smiling as usual, but the smile was different.

  “How you doing, Taco? Heard you got a touch of the fever.” Jimmy took the chair close to the bed.

  “I been better. Luckily I got some excellent care.”

  Slip spoke up. “Speaking of, Doc says your fever is down and you might be able to go home this evening.”

  It was good to hear someone thought I might be doing better since I sure didn’t feel much better. I had to talk slow. “That’s good. I reckon I’ll be on my feet again in a few days.”

  Jimmy had the nervous thing going again. “If you feel up to it, I need to talk to you about something, in private.” This sounded a little unusual, but after assurances he’d be just outside if I needed something, Slip left Jimmy and I alone.