Geezer Paradise Read online

  "Don't you see, Barney?" Willey said. "He's telling us this guy who works for Flaherty is being forced to do stuff. Stuff like, maybe taking care of trouble makers like Freddy."

  Eduardo got up to leave. "I gotta get back to work, see ya." Just as Eduardo stood up a woman came up to him. She was an older woman, kind of long and lean with salt and pepper hair, smooth olive skin and dark Mediterranean eyes. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Could she be Eduardo's mother? When Eduardo saw her his face lit up, smiling from ear to ear.

  "Hi, Eduardo," the woman said. "I hope I'm not intruding."

  "You're not intruding," Eduardo said. He kissed her on the cheek. "Willey, Barney, this is my grandmother, Sofie."

  Being gentlemen we both stood up. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sofie," I said and held out my hand. She was one good looking grandmother. She gave me a big smile. I smiled right back at her.

  "The pleasure is mine," Sofie said, and gave my hand a squeeze. When she leaned over the table to take Willey's hand, her linen jacket opened in the front just enough for me to see the shoulder holster she was wearing. She had a gun! Why would Eduardo's grandmother be packing heat? Did she live in a dangerous neighborhood?

  "See you later," Eduardo said, as he and Sofie headed toward the restaurant.

  I waited until they couldn't hear what we were saying. Then I said, "Willey, Eduardo's grandmother was carrying a gun. I saw it when she leaned over the table to shake your hand."

  "No kidding?" Willey said. "Well, that's not so unusual these days. We all have to protect ourselves, with crime being what it is. Especially women. But anyway, Barney, the guy Eduardo's talking about, his name is Stevens, Mike Stevens. He drives a big red boat of a Cadillac, and uses Flaherty's cabin cruiser to take clients out to Caladesi Island to party every weekend. He'll be going out there tomorrow. I say we follow him around a little bit and see what he's up to."

  "What do you think we'll find out by following him?" I asked.

  "Maybe who he talks to and who he's making payoffs to. Maybe we'll see him handing over envelopes to city officials. We might even be able to take some pictures."

  Willey looked around. "The pontoon's filling up," he said. "I'll be right back." I sat there and considered what Eduardo had said. I didn't think he had any reason to lie to us, and if what he said was accurate it did seem suspicious. Willey was right, we should check it out.

  Tomorrow we would go to Caladesi Island. Maybe it wasn't too late to save the park after all. That night I slept better than I had in a long time. I dreamed of Eduardo's sexy, gun-toting grandma, Sofie. There's something about a woman who carries a gun that turns me on. So I'm a sick puppy--so sue me.

  Caladesi is a barrier island off the Gulf coast of Tampa. It was originally part of Honeymoon Island to the north, but in the 1920's a hurricane cut the island in half. They called the newly created lower half, Caladesi, and the waterway between the two islands is called Hurricane Pass.

  It was a warm, sunny morning as Willey and I drove across the Dunedin causeway to Honeymoon Island. Honeymoon Island and Caladesi Island are now State Parks. It cost eight dollars per car to enter Honeymoon Island State Park with my Wrangler. I drove to the ferry dock and parked. We carried our equipment with us, a camera for me and binoculars for Willey. The fare to take the ferry across hurricane pass to Caladesi was nine dollars each, and we were only allowed to stay on the island for four hours. I guess the boating crowd doesn't want the riff-raff hanging around too long. We boarded the ferry and made the short trip to Caladesi. We got off on the dock and followed the crowd up a slight rise to the Cafe Caladesi. We found a small table near the edge of the deck overlooking the marina. There must have been fifty to sixty boats tied up there.

  The view from the deck was perfect for what we wanted. I was wearing a straw hat with a wide brim that I wear when I go fishing. The Florida sun can be blistering. Willey refused to wear a hat, even though this guy Stevens might recognize him from Frank's. Willey can be as stubborn as a mule at times. He was checking out the boats with binoculars, I had a Nikon from my newspaper days.

  Do you know the name of Flaherty's boat?" I asked.

  "No, but I'll know Stevens when I see him."

  I looked around at the people. There were a lot of what they call the "Beautiful People" there. A few minutes later, Willey said, "There he goes. He's heading out into the Intracoastal." A large, white, cabin cruiser, with a red stripe running down the side, was moving through the marina channel. There looked to be about eight people on board. We watched as the boat turned into the Intracoastal and disappeared behind the mangrove trees. After a minute went by I said, "They're not coming out. They must have dropped anchor there for privacy."

  Willey was already up and moving. I grabbed my camera and took off after him. We walked down the grassy area that bordered the water's edge until we thought we were lined up with where they had anchored the boat. Then we started through the thick brush toward the water. When we reached the mangrove trees we could hear them. They had music playing and we could hear women laughing.

  "Sounds like they're having a good time," Willey said. "Let's get closer and you can take some pictures. I'd like to know who Stevens is hanging around with out there." The dry ground ended where the mangrove trees started. Mangrove trees grow in the water with their roots sticking out of the trees above the waterline, then turning down like knees into the water and muck below. We had to move from tree to tree, holding onto the trunks, stepping on the knees of the roots. The mosquitoes swarmed over us biting every inch of exposed skin, and a lot that wasn't exposed. They weren't what the locals call Swamp Angles, those were found farther south. But they weren’t those anemic mites we call mosquitoes up north, either. The mosquitoes couldn't decide whether to eat me there or take me home to the family. Willey, however, didn't seem to have any problem with them. Maybe the bugs didn't like old Cracker blood. It was slow going but we finally reached the open water and the mosquitoes let up.

  It was an expensive boat, about a thirty-five footer. It would require a high income to support the docking and operating costs. They were about forty feet out. There were four young women wearing bikinis on deck. They looked to be in their twenties. Two of the men with them were old enough to be their fathers. They were paunchy and balding. One man was maybe in his thirties and shirtless.

  "The guy without a shirt is Stevens," Willey said. "The older guy with the Hawaiian shirt is Senator Buckland. I don't recognize the others. Try to get some good pictures."

  Senator Buckland! Of course. I thought he looked familiar. He had headed up a committee to look into consumer fraud. I always thought he was a straight shooter. Politicians are like toilet seats. They might be clean, but you can't tell just by looking at them. So Senator Buckland was Flaherty's enabler, his ticket to preferential treatment. How much money had Flaherty contributed to Buckland's campaign chest? How much money had Flaherty given him in bribes? And how were we going to find out?

  One by one I got good close up shots of each of the people aboard. We couldn't understand what they were saying so there was no reason for us to stay there any longer.

  "Let's head back, Willey," I said. "There's nothing else we can do here."

  Willey nodded and we started moving back to dry land. I heard a splash behind me and I spun around. Willey was gone! Then his head pop up out of the water. Willey stood up in the shallow water, and as I reached out my hand to him someone on the boat shot a spear gun at us. The metal shaft struck a mangrove tree just inches above our heads, the metal shaft vibrating ominously.

  "They're crazy," Willey said, as I pulled him up. "They could have killed one of us." We looked out toward Flaherty's boat, they were all staring at us. One of the girls had one hand on her heart and the other on her mouth. At least she had the good sense to know she had just witnessed an attempted murder. Silently, we made our way back through the mangroves and the blood thirsty bugs.

  Willey said, "He spotted me--Stevens. He looked stra
ight at me and he made the connection."

  "I know," I said. "That's why they shot the spear gun at us, to send us a message. Of course, if you hadn't fallen into the water like a dope, they never would have known we were there."

  "It wasn't my fault," Willey whined. "These roots are slippery, and I don't have the right shoes on."

  "It's no big deal," I said. "So what if they saw us. We have just as much right to be here as they do." We finally reached the road and headed back to the Café where we sat at a table on the deck. Willey, being soaking wet, got a few stares from the people around us. So, did you get any good pictures out there?" Willey asked.

  "Yeah, I got good close-ups of all of them. Now we have to follow Stevens around and see who he talks to. Maybe we'll see him bribing officials. If we could get a picture of something like that we'd be home free."

  We took the ferry back to Honeymoon Island and headed home to the Blue Orchid. We had learned a lot about Flaherty and how he did business. It had been a productive day.

  I got up the next morning and put on my best shirt, the collar was just beginning to fray, and my best tie, it had only one small stain. I was tempted to do a comb-over but I figured it would look stupid, so I just straightened my tie and headed off to the mall. I had applied for a part-time job at Clarkson's Furniture Store. They called the night before and asked if I could come in this morning, one of their sales people had called in sick. I'm always looking for ways to make a few extra bucks, especially now that my future was in jeopardy, so I postponed tailing Stevens to make some money. I'd applied at Clarkson's because they sold high end furniture. Walking into the store was like walking into a rich home. I figured I wouldn't mind hanging around in there for a few hours and getting paid for it. I got into my Wrangler and headed south. The streets were nearly deserted of pedestrians. Everyone was either in their air conditioned cars or hugging their air conditioner at home. It was another blistering day. It would be that way until the fall. Then the tourists would come flocking back to soak up the sun. I pulled into the mall parking lot and drove to the front entrance, where I whipped my Wrangler into a space a woman thought she was going to get. You have to be fast at this game. I was about to get out of the Wrangler when I heard somebody yelling. It was the woman who thought she was going to get the parking space, and she was highly agitated. She had a face like a sock puppet, and her eyes were bugging out. I could handle her--I'd charm her.

  I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. I gave her my best smile and said, "Sorry, ma'am, but I'm late for work and . . . "Whap! She punched me in the eye. When I stopped seeing stars I looked around for her. She was nowhere in sight. Probably gone back under her rock to eat her young. I went into the mall rubbing my eye and got on the escalator to the second floor. I hoped I wouldn't get a black eye. I walked into Clarkson's and stood there looking around. The place even smelled nice. There was a doe-eyed young blonde girl at the counter ringing up a sale. I figured she was working her way through college. I watched as her fingers flew over the register keys. How would I ever learn how to do that? I went up to the counter and introduced myself. She gave me a bright smile and said, "Hi, I'm Tammy. I'm so glad you were able to come in. I thought I was going to have to work alone all day." I asked her to show me how to ring up a sale.

  "It's easy," she said, and she showed me how it was done. It didn't seem all that complicated, maybe I could learn how to do it after all. "But I'll ring up your sales for you today," she said. "You can cover the floor while I do my paperwork." I thought that would work out just fine, and I walked out onto the sales floor. I wandered around for hours helping people, and sometimes making a sale. Then an old crone came in leaning on her cane. She had a Clarkson's bag under her arm. I asked if I could help her, she sneered at me and brushed past heading for the desk, and Tammy.

  "May I help you?" Tammy asked. The crone put her bag on the counter and said, "I want my money back." Tammy opened the bag and took out an ornate lamp. "Is there something wrong with it?" Tammy asked.

  "It's butt ugly, that's what's wrong with it."

  "Was it a gift?"

  "Yes," the crone snarled. "The ugliest gift I've ever seen."

  "Would you like to look around and see if there's anything else you might like?"

  "No, I want my money back," the old bat snarled. Tammy was trying to be calm but I could see the old dear had her flustered. I moved up to the front desk and stood there next to Tammy.

  Tammy said, "Well, ma'am, our policy on returns is to give a credit slip, not

  cash". The ogre lifted her cane. Tammy jumped back, and the old bat brought her cane smack down on the desktop.

  "Can't you hear?" the witch screeched. "I want my money back!" Tammy was near tears. I leaned towards the old hag with a look of great concern on my face. "What are you looking at?" she shouted.

  "Are you feeling alright, ma'am?" I asked, all concerned.

  "Of course I'm feeling alright, why shouldn't I?"

  "It's just that . . . well, your face seems to be turning blue."

  Her eyes widened, "Where's your restroom?"

  "It's in the back, ma'am." She was headed to the back room when I added, "But there's no mirror in there." I didn't know if there was a mirror or not, but I wanted to get the old bat out of the store.

  The hag spun around. "Where's the nearest public restroom?" she demanded.

  "Down the mall to your right, ma'am," I said cordially. As she stomped by me I tucked the bag with the butt ugly lamp under her arm. "Don't forget this." I said.

  Tammy was trying not to smile as she watched the nightmare depart.

  "Thank You," she said. "I'm not very good at handling nasty customers."

  "That blue-in-the-face thing works every time on the old badgers," I said. "She was lucky, I was very close to calling animal control." I went back out onto the floor feeling pretty good about myself. I strolled around some more and tried out a few easy chairs. Maybe this job would work out. I could use the steady income.

  As the morning wore on I became fascinated with a large floor to ceiling, see-through, bookcase that was filled with leaded cut crystal items. There were large cut-glass punch bowls, sparkling wine goblets, and dozens of other expensive pieces. I wondered how it must feel to own all of those beautiful luxuries. I supposed I never would. Working at Clarkson's was as close as I'd ever come to being rich. Besides, even if I owned those things, would I still have a house to keep them in?

  I was standing there feeling sorry for myself when She walked in. She was a "Mall Woman", the kind of beautiful woman you see only in the best malls. She was perfect from her glossy black hair to her gleaming calf leather brown shoes. She was so beautiful I couldn't take my eyes off her. She walked right up beside me and looked at the bookcase filled with crystal.

  "Could you get that punch bowl down for me?" she asked, pointing her perfectly manicured finger at a three-hundred dollar item.

  "Certainly, ma'am," I said. I reached up, took the punch bowl down, and placed it in her hands. As she took the bowl I heard something fall to the tiled floor. I looked down, she had dropped her car keys.

  "Allow me," I said. In my desire to impress this beautiful creature I moved a little too fast, and when I bent down to retrieve her keys I accidently hit the bookcase with my butt. I heard an ominous snapping sound from above. I looked up and saw the top of the bookcase moving away from the ceiling. Thin, broken wires dangled down. I jumped up and tried to grab onto a shelf, but I misjudged the distance and hit the shelf with the palm of my hand, sending into a fatal plunge. The smaller items from the top shelves were already crashing to the tiled floor. There was nothing I could do. I turned to the now wide eyed woman and dropped her car keys into the punch bowl she was holding.

  "There you are, ma'am," I said. I put my finger under her lovely chin and closed her pretty mouth. The bookcase went down with a thunderous, floor bouncing, crash. I hurried to the front of the store and worked my way through the small crowd that ha
d already gathered there. I double timed it to the down escalator and hid in front of a large lady holding three shopping bags.

  "Lovely day," I said to her. I hit the ground floor at a slow trot, trying not to call attention to myself, and beat it out the front entrance. I jogged to my Wrangler and got out of there as fast as I could. Imagine tying up a heavy bookcase like that with just a couple of thin wires. Some people are just plain stupid. I could have been killed.

  I wondered if I should sue?

  When I pulled into my carport Willey came running over all excited. "Barney, Mary called. The coroner told her Freddy has broken capillaries in his eyes like he choked to death, but his airway wasn't blocked. The coroner is going to take a closer look."

  "Well, don't go getting all in a dither," I said. "It still might have been caused by a heart attack. We won't know until we hear back from the coroner."

  "I don't know about you," Willey said. "But I'm going to be sleeping with one eye open until we know for sure." I watched Willey shuffle back to his house. I didn't want to let on, but I was worried, too. Willey wasn't the only one who would be sleeping with one eye open. But first things first, the first thing being lunch. I went inside and opened my refrigerator--nothing edible there. Time to go to the supermarket. There's one just up the street. It's a lifesaver for those in the park that don't have a car. I go there because their prices are better. They don't always have everything, it's hit or miss. But if you're creative you can get by with what they do have. It's in a strip mall that has a large package store with decent prices, and a store where everything costs a dollar. That comes in handy, too. I walked up to the crosswalk and pushed the button so I could cross. You can cross against the light, but when you consider that the next car coming at you is probably being driven by an eighty year old with bad eyesight, it makes you pause.

  I walked into the icy air of the supermarket and shivered. If they turned the air conditioning down they could make themselves a better profit, and maybe even lower their prices a little more. Most of the people in the park have these little wire bag carriers they pull behind them when they go shopping, but I refuse to do that. So I have to limit myself to what I can carry. I could take the Wrangler, but with the price of gas being what it is I drive as little as possible.