Key Manatee Read online

  Slip and Consuelo had already seen him and were locked up together cheek to cheek, humming loud and doing what looked like a passable dance step. They stopped in mid-stride and gave the officer big, innocent smiles. Slip nodded towards the policeman.

  “Polka. Just learning the little lady here some fancy footwork, officer.” Then, self-conscious smiles before returning to their lessons, humming show tunes it sounded like. The large, burly, instrument of the law turned his attention hi-beams on me.

  “Looking for a Taco Bob, supposed to live on this houseboat. That you?”

  “He just left, headed over to Sloppy Joe’s. Jimmy Buffett’s in town, supposed to be playing there in about an hour. We might get him on his cell phone though.”

  The cop came up the dock to the back of my houseboat and took note of the sudden lack of gawking tourists. He gave up a smile.

  “Works on ‘em every time.”

  “That it does, officer. I’m Taco Bob, what can I do for you?”

  “Just need to take a quick look inside. Got an anonymous call there was a meth lab on your boat.”

  “That so? Last week it was a pot farm, week before it was hiding runaways. Any idea who’s making those calls?”

  “We’re pretty sure it’s the same person. Cell phone with a scrambled number.” He gave me a shrug. “I still need to take a look inside though, if you don’t mind.”

  Slip and his dancing partner were close enough to hear. We three looked over at the luxurious houseboat three boats down, and saw the corner of a window curtain move quick.

  I gave the lawman the nickel tour. Showed him the master stateroom with the oversized bed, the spacious bath, guest quarters, lounge, and full galley. One of the storage places I showed him had a collection of women’s clothes that had come with the boat.

  “Sure is a nice old houseboat you got here. Thanks for showing me around.”

  By the time he left, my fishing partners were gone too. Before I could get into thinking about somebody trying to put the cops on me again, Slip was back looking anxious.

  “Taco, I need to borrow a big wrench. None of mine are big enough.”

  “Help yourself, just don’t forget where it came from.” He headed for the tool locker. “Don’t suppose I could ask what a fishing guide who only has a kayak with no motor needs a big wrench for?”

  “Oh, it’s not for anything of mine. I’m helping Capt. Roy work on his new boat.” He came back with my biggest crescent wrench. “Well, not exactly helping him. He’s off at the store or something, so I thought I’d get started on the engine while I was waiting for him to get back.”

  “Uh, Slip. Not that it’s my place to say, but given your track record with mechanical things, you might want to let Capt Roy be around before you do anything. In fact – ” The phone rang and Slip was gone.

  I watched him scoot across the marina while finding out from the phone what it was he started to tell me earlier. The caller was Trisha Everything, an acquaintance of Slip’s and owner of one of Key West’s more popular restaurants, the Blue Parrot just off Duval Street. She was having a problem and said one word that did it for me, but didn’t want to talk about it further on the phone. Wanted to know if I could stop by later. About then Slip was back, even more anxious.

  “Hey, Taco. That Ms. Everything? Yeah, I meant to tell you she wants to meet with you. Real top secret stuff of some kind.” He was talking fast. “I just need to borrow your fire extinguisher, the big one.” And he was off again.

  I told the lady I’d be by in a little while. Just as I hung the phone up, it rang. I was told by a recording not to hang up, I may have won something important. So I hung up and it rang again. Coast Guard wanted to go over a few grisly details.

  Just as they were winding down, Capt Roy stuck his head in the door. He had a look in his eye.

  “You seen Slip?” Man sure had a loud voice.

  “Thought he was helping you?”

  I got the look again and some grumbling. Capt. Roy stomped back down the dock and I went back answering the same questions again for the Coast Guard. Just as I hung up, Consuelo walked in.

  “Consuelo, I got a meet in town. You can hang here if you want, just lock up when you leave.” The phone rang as I headed out.

  “Captain Bob residence, First Mate Consuelo speaking!”

  She held the phone away from her ear and made a bad face letting me know I was in trouble again. I sighed and reached for the phone.

  “Gotcha! Not her!” She put a hand over the phone. “You go about your business, I’ll field this one for you.” She checked her watch and gave a quick wave. I could hear her as I closed the door. “Why yes, I’d love to hear about four nights and three days in beautiful Orlando!”

  Before I could think about Consuelo keeping the poor telemarketer on the phone long enough to beat Slip’s record, I noticed Capt Roy walking deliberately through the parking lot carrying a large fish gaff.

  “You seen him?”

  Actually, I did, behind the captain on the other side of some cars. Slip was waving his hands and shaking his head. I held my hands palm up and shrugged on my way to the truck. I didn’t have time for these fellas’ foolishness. I had a meeting about Voodoo.

  ∨ Key Manatee ∧

  Three

  The Blue Parrot doesn’t usually have any live parrots, but they always got plenty of live chickens. The infamous wild chickens that run the streets of Key West had long ago taken a liking to the outdoor dining area of the popular restaurant.

  I had a seat at a table outside with Trisha Everything, a trim, round-faced young lady with a tiny nose and eyes that always seemed to be wide open. This topped with a big mop of hair the same bright blue as her eyes made her quite a sight. Since taking over the restaurant a couple years earlier, she’d earned herself a reputation among the locals for being eccentric, if not downright crazy. No small accomplishment in a place like Key West.

  We sat in the shade enjoying a cool drink and the breeze rustling the palm fronds overhead while mouth-watering cooking smells drifted over from the kitchen. There were chickens around our feet and a dog barking on the other side of the wood fence.

  “It’s not like I’m short on the sodding birds and the bloody tourists love them.” She gave a quick kick under the table at a scrawny hen, which jumped five feet and issued some angry cackling. “But the way they been turning up dead, I’m telling you, finding a dead chicken by the door nearly every morning is a mite unnerving.” The neighbor dog had it down to a steady deep bark now. “And shut your flipping mouth, you!”

  “So you think it’s voodoo, the dead chicken on the doorstep?” She gave me an incredulous look.

  “What bloody else could it be? My cook Freddy, said he saw some flick once had that sort of thing. I just don’t want my waitresses and cooks quitting, afraid they’ll be next on the stoop.”

  This all made a small amount of sense to me, not that I was any expert on Voodoo. But along with all the other wild tales floating around Key West, there were a few involving Voodoo.

  “You don’t suppose somebody’s doing that just to scare you? Anybody got a reason to do your business some harm? Any enemies in town?”

  This got her thinking. I would ask about former boyfriends, but I had it on good authority she didn’t do much dating, too busy with the restaurant. That and her way of talking. It wasn’t the hair or British slang keeping the men away, it was what she held in her hand when she talked. I decided to try the boyfriends anyway.

  “Any former boyfriends might be up to something crazy like this?”

  “Ha, as if! What boyfriends? Geezers in this town think a girl strange just because she talks with a doll!” I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the boyfriend thing. “Right dodgy arseholes, the lot of them!”

  It was a bit weird, talking to a vibrant, healthy, blue-haired young woman who never moved her lips and held up a worn-looking little ceramic doll like it was the one actually talking.

  “Miss E
verything—”

  “Steady on, call me Trish. It’s my name.”

  “Okay, Trish. I’m not going to make any promises here, but I’ll do some checking around, see what I can find out from my sources.”

  “Slip, he told me once you knew about mysticism and that lot.”

  “He told you that, did he? Well, I don’t really-”

  Trish leaned forward and held the doll closer.

  “Slip said you were a dreamer.” Before I could say anything, she put her free hand on mine. For some reason I was surprised it was so soft. “No matter. I will see you right if you get this sodding Voodoo from my caf.”

  I looked at Trish and talked arrangements with a five-inch doll for a few minutes. Since I didn’t feel right taking her money, we agreed I’d be paid for my time in free meals for myself and friends. A cook came out and handed his boss a phone.

  “It’s the new Marty, Ms Jeager, says he can’t make it.” It wasn’t until Trish took the phone that I realized she’d had her hand on mine still. She held the phone against her chest so the doll could whisper to me.

  “Bloody hell! That JB played here the first weekend every month, now I can’t find a bloody soul to replace him. He only got himself dead, you know.” I indicated I’d heard something to that effect.

  Folks born in Key West are usually called conchs. Those born somewhere else but living in town for enough years are know as freshwater conchs. Having lived in Key West for over ten years, JB easily qualified as a freshwater conch. He’d been one of several musicians doing Marty Manatee impersonation gigs in the bars, restaurants, and street corners of Key West. These days the original Marty is a living legend after getting his start singing ballads in Key West bars back in the 70s. But while most of the signing manatees went for the traditional tropics music, JB tended to go more for the blues.

  I told Ms. Everything I’d get back to her soon, then excused myself so we could both get to work. While she went about trying to locate a new singing manatee, I went to see what I could find out about Voodoo.

  ♦

  I started my search with the one person I knew who had a line on almost everyone on the island – Slip Hanson. I found him having lunch a couple rows over from my houseboat the Sandy Bottomed Girl. His host was Jimmy Redd, the most envied man in Key West and owner of a pretty little sailboat named the Herring. They were sitting in the cockpit working on a plate of fried fish and a six pack. Jimmy looked happy, as always. His long, sandy hair and boyish good looks made for a combination the ladies found hard to resist.

  “Hey, Taco! Come on aboard and have a grouper nugget!” He handed me a couple of nice-looking pieces of fish on a paper plate and tossed a smaller piece in the air toward Slip. Slip pulled a beer can away from his face just in time to snap the fish nugget out of the air. He killed the beer and belched a thanks as I sat down. I thought the fish was excellent.

  “Mighty fine, Jimmy! Corn meal breading?”

  “Corn base with my secret spices. Caught the grouper this morning fishing for grunts right here under the boat.”

  “Reckon that was a surprise.” I finished off the fish and took a good pull on the offered beer.

  “Care for more?”

  I politely waved off the almost empty platter my host held up. Slip was up for more though and let loose a couple of near-perfect dog barks. This along with the begging position and the sad eyes thing earned him another tossed morsel. I’ve seen variations of this work for the man in situations involving women as well. I needed to talk to Slip.

  “If I could interrupt y’all practicing for the Mallory Square Follies for just a minute, I need to ask Rover here what he knows about voodoo.”

  That got their attention. Slip gave me a squint-eye look.

  “This got anything to do with that favor you were going to check on?”

  “As a matter of fact. Thought you might know somebody in town I could ask a few questions doing with animal sacrifices and such.”

  Slip went to rubbing his chin and squinting at me, Jimmy, and the rest of the fish nuggets.

  “Might ask ol’ Mama Rosa the palm reader, or better yet – Levita the Voodoo Priestess. She has that place on Fleming a couple blocks off Duval.” Slip ate another fish nugget to help himself think. “Her place is on Fleming, ain’t it Jimbo?”

  Jimmy Redd hadn’t said a word or even twitched since I mentioned voodoo.

  “Uh, yeah, Slip. Near the bookstore, I think.”

  Man looked like he’d seen a ghost. Slip took advantage of our host’s wandering concentration and scooped the last of the fish morsels into his shirt pocket as he stood up.

  “I reckon I better go along with Taco Bob here, make sure he don’t get lost.” He gave the man who lived a charmed life a thumbs up and wink combo. “Thanks again for the snack.”

  ♦

  Slip bailed on me before we even got out of the marina. He saw Capt Roy loping along towards the marina office.

  “I just thought of some stuff I’m needing from the store.” And was gone around the corner before I could say anything.

  I headed on over to where I keep my trusty old bicycle and seen the owner of the fancy houseboat. A big man with Donald Trump hair, he was standing on the dock with his considerable gut pulled in talking to a couple of young tourist women. I smiled as I walked by.

  He ignored me but the women gave up shy smiles when I tipped my hat. The man gestured toward his boat bragging some unlikely tale about winning it in a card game. I’d just about got to my bike when I heard a loud slap. The big guy had a hand to the red mark on his face. He started in yelling angry words at the two women as they stomped away on down the dock.

  I rode Ol’ Rusty along the side streets doing my best to avoid any sudden mergers with the numerous scooters, cars, and tour buses on the fast track to paradise. Parking places in Old Town are scarce as hen’s teeth and cars are usually more focused on looking for parking than actually driving. You ride a bike in Key West very much you tend to get eyes in the back of your head.

  I turned down Fleming and kept an eye peeled. Just before Island Books a small sign pointed down an alley and offered Death Charms, Voodoo Supplies, and Scooter Rentals.

  I locked Rusty to a post and walked by a row of shiny scooters in the narrow alley. A crow sitting on one of the scooters squawked a good one before flying off. A side door in the old wooden building opened to a poorly lit room of masks and costumes, jewelry and charms, trinkets and oddities. One of the oddest things in the room was the old black woman behind the counter. As my eyes adjusted to the light I noticed she appeared to have snakes in her hair.

  “What’s your pleasure, sailor?”

  “Howdy, ma’am. Nice place.”

  She gave me a sleepy look with bloodshot eyes as she tried to figure me out.

  “You don’t look like a man be wanting no scooter.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Maybe you looking for licensed hypnotist? I got license.” She shoved what appeared to be an expired driver’s license in my face.

  “Actually, I was hoping I could ask you a couple questions.” That got her going on a short burst of cackling laughter.

  “You a man with a problem, no?”

  The old gal leaned forward on her stool and made a sweep with her hand over the things in the glass case between us. The snakes turned out to be colored beads over braids of hair with eyes on the bottom beads and hair strands out the end like a snake’s forked tongue.

  “Perhaps I could interest you in one of these here genuine gold amulets? Got a fine selection guaranteed to bring love, money, health, or revenge. You needing a spell to take care of a rival, perhaps?” She made a gesture to signify male private parts with one hand and scissors with the other. “Maybe something in a gold or silver good luck charm? Or, if you on a budget, this fine charm here perfect then! Work every time, no doubt!” She reached down a came up with a rather tired-looking rabbit’s foot to dangle in my face.

  “Well, no. A
ctually I just—”

  “Ah! I know what you looking for! You come to a Voodoo shop, you want the real thing, no? Look down here at these on the bottom. Smart man like you wants a direct line to spirit! Our All-Purpose Voodoo Doll very popular with men. Fix you up for all kinds of women problems, and what man don’t have women problems? We just get new shipment in from Haiti.” She stuck a small doll that looked like it was made from rolls of yarn in my face. “You buy one of these, I guarantee you get wood like teenager, money come to you in mail, and boss man get the loose bowels every time he yell at you!”

  She kept the doll in my face and lit up a grin to show off years of dental neglect.

  “Actually, I just wanted to ask—”

  “Answer questions free. Doll fifteen ninety nine!”

  I got the hint and handed her a twenty which immediately disappeared. I got the doll and a eyebrow raised in query. It didn’t look like I was getting any change.

  “I wanted to ask about sacrifices, like with chickens.” This got me a narrow-eyed look of deep thought and a slow head shake. “Somebody I know’s been finding dead chickens on their doorstep and I told ‘em I’d ask around. I thought maybe someone of your obvious expertise in voodoo might put me on the right track.”

  As she gave this a good mulling over, the first few notes of the theme song from ‘The Exorcist’ came from behind the counter. She pulled out a cellphone and checked the number before turning away from me to take the call.

  “Newspaper man, that you?”

  I took the opportunity to check out the rest of the store. There really wasn’t much merchandise besides some dusty masks and costumes on the walls and the stuff in the big glass counter. A shelf by the door had some scooter accessories and a box marked ‘Shrunken Heads’. While I contemplated taking a peek in the box, the voodoo lady was giving someone hell.

  “I tell you mister, that island is cursed! Long ago, old voodoo witch and friends live there until giant monster with thousand eyes come from the sea one night! Eyes glow in dark and all people except voodoo witch scared and leave! Then baby monster come from mother and white devils jump on island. What? Yes, called cruise ship now.”