Anatomy of Evil (4 page)

“What's up,” said Rodney.

The man came over. He appeared to be in his sixties, remarkably fit for his age. “Americans?”

“Chicago, Illinois,” said Gary.

“Chicago?” said the man. “I'm from down south. Tennessee. You staying at the hotel?”

“Yeah,” said Rodney. “You?”

“Nah,” he responded. “I have a place.” He stuck out his hand and they shook it. “How do you do, I'm Louis. Is this island a best kept secret or what? Locals are a bit weird, but the scenery is unbelievable.”

Rodney and Gary engaged in a conversation with Louis and discussed their lives back home. Louis wasn't a football fan, so he didn't recognize Gary's name. When he discovered Rodney was a Chicago cop, he said, “This island needs some cops. You gotta watch out, you can get your wallet stolen. Happened to a nice young couple the other day. They lost their cash, credit cards, passport, everything.”

“I will definitely keep my eye out,” said Rodney. “A crime is a crime in any country, you know?”

“Some of them are so high on junk…”

“That's not good,” said Rodney. “Where I come from, we got a serious problem with drugs. Heroin's getting bad again. I got zero tolerance for that stuff.”

“How long you staying?”

“Tomorrow's our last day,” said Gary. “We're taking a boat out and doing some ocean fishing. We've been mainly in the flats and some of the coastal reefs.”

“I live to fish,” said Louis. “And this place is the best. I know all the hot spots like the back of my hand.”

“Then let us pick your brain.” Gary stood up and unfolded the map Jamarqui had given him. “We had some ideas of where to go, but you might have some recommendations.”

“We're looking for yellow fin tuna and sailfish,” said Rodney.

“And giant trevally,” said Gary.

“Yes,” said Rodney. “My buddy here is determined to land a monster fish.”

Louis flipped his glasses down over his eyes. He studied the map, standing alongside Gary. Gary pointed to the area with the red border drawn around it. “The guy renting us the boat said we shouldn't go there. I think he meant to tell us the surf was dangerous, or the reef, but he said it was ‘evil spirits.'”

Louis chuckled. “Evil spirits?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that really what he said?”

“Yeah, so I guess it's off limits.”

“Bullshit,” said Louis. “That area on the southeastern tip is the best fishing there is. There's nothing dangerous about it, and no ‘evil spirits.' They don't want you going there because it's a fisherman's dream. It's a moneymaker for the locals, they're just trying to keep tourists from getting in on the action. You want to catch some trevally and big tuna and have a real fishing adventure, that's where you want to be.”

Gary smiled. “His name was Jamarqui. He was acting kind of coy when he told me about the evil spirits.”

“Evil spirits.” Louis laughed, flipping the glasses back up on his head. “That's a good one. Don't let these natives pull a fast one on you.”

Louis wished them luck on their adventure. He headed back toward the crashing waves to continue his walk along the beachfront.

“Go have fun, boys,” he called out to Gary and Rodney. “Go catch yourself a monster.”

Chapter Eight

Sam started his day witnessing the first glimpse of the sun. After getting dressed, he headed to the hotel's small café to read his Bible and watch the full sunrise. He was alone, staring out at the ocean's swirl, which appeared to extend forever into the horizon. Eventually one of the young hotel workers arrived to open up the café to sell light breakfast items. Sam ordered a large, black coffee. When the hotel worker asked about the book Sam was reading, Sam engaged him in a conversation about God and his religious beliefs. The boy talked about a small Catholic Church on the island and regretted losing touch with his faith over the years. He expressed that he often felt lost in the vastness of life, not unlike the island's tiny presence in the overwhelming sea.

Before Sam finished his coffee, he had renewed the boy's commitment to a relationship with God.

“You're still young. You will find all the answers in your search for meaning,” promised Sam.

At the designated meeting time, Sam headed to the pier with his fishing gear. A pure blue sky colored a beautiful morning. The surf rolled in on the white sandy beach, collapsing in a steady, relaxed rhythm.

Gary and Jamarqui stood in the 35-foot charter boat as Jamarqui provided instructions. Sam waved at them and walked over to Emma, who stood at the foot of the pier, leaned on a cane.

“Are you sure you don't want to join us?” asked Sam. “There's room for more.”

“No, you're sweet, but I'm going to stay back,” said Emma. “The waves and bumping around aren't good for me. I'm going to have a nice, lazy day on the beach. Kelly's going to keep me company. I'm going to catch up on my reading and finish my tan.”

Then she asked, “How are
you
holding up?”

“Some times are better than others,” he acknowledged. “It's hardest at night, before I go to sleep, and then right when I wake up. I'm alone with my thoughts. I'm better when I'm around other people…my friends, my students, my activities.”

Emma said, “I really miss her. She left us much too soon. She was my best friend.”

“It's all part of God's plan,” said Sam. “All you can do is keep the faith.”

Rodney and Kelly arrived then, carrying a large cooler, each holding one end by the handle, making clumsy movements through the sand. “We made sandwiches for everybody,” announced Rodney. “We've got chips, sodas, cookies, fruit, brewskies…”

“We got carried away, there's probably enough food in here for 20 people,” said Kelly.

Gary waved at them from the boat. “Almost ready!”

Rodney and Kelly put the cooler down in the soft sand. Emma and Kelly began a conversation about their plans for the day, minus the men. Jake and Carol arrived next. Jake carried a healthy load of fishing gear, but appeared pale and uncomfortable, moving slow while Carol spoke to him softly with a look of concern.

Rodney asked Jake, “What's up? You can't be hungover, we didn't have that much to drink.”

“No,” said Jake, pushing out his words with effort. “Something I ate didn't agree with me… I was puking all night long. Bad seafood, drinking water, could've been anything. I can't keep anything down.”

“You okay to fish?” asked Rodney.

Jake winced in the sunlight and frowned. “No,” he said. “I better hang back. It pisses me off, 'cause I was really looking forward to this. But with this stomach and those waves… Bad combo. I just don't think I can do it.”

Carol lightly touched his arm. “Please let me take care of you.”

“No,” said Jake. “You're still going.”

“I don't want to go,” said Carol. “You need me.”

“Just go, honey,” Jake urged her. “It's going to be fun. It will be good for you. It's an adventure. What else are you going to do? Lay around? Shop in those little junk shops?” He pointed to a simple, decorative bracelet on her wrist, addressing Rodney. “She talks to the locals and gets sweet-talked into spending our money on cheap junk.”

“It's not junk,” Carol said softly.

Jake responded, “You're paying money for nothing, it's like catering to panhandlers.”

“Somebody made it,” said Carol. “I wanted them to feel good about it. I know it's not worth what I paid, but at least they're trying…”

“Spoken like a Good Samaritan,” said Rodney.

Gary called out from the boat: “We're all set. Let's start boarding.”

“Seriously,” Jake said to Carol. “Join them. At least one of us will get to enjoy it.”

Rodney said, “I've got extra rods and lures. I'll give you some pointers. You're going to have fun.”

“Well, okay,” said Carol. “If you think I should.”

“Yes,” said Jake. “We all think you should. And I think I should go back to the room and puke before I do it right here on the beach. Sorry all.”

Jake left, staggering in sloppy steps on the sand. Carol watched him go, eyes wide like a puppy watching its master leave the house.

Gary came over to say goodbye to Emma. “We'll be back around four. How's the hip?”

“I took some more ibuprofen. I'm an ibuprofen junkie. I'll be okay.”

He hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, babe.”

“Go catch some big ones,” she told him.

Rodney also kissed his wife goodbye. “If you go into town, be safe. There are some crazy drivers around here,” he told her. “I don't think they have speed limits.”

Emma and Kelly waved together from the sand as the group boarded the boat. Jamarqui climbed off the vessel and helped to push it from the pier. Gary started up the motor, seated at the center console under the shade of a short, worn covering.

The fishing boat headed out to sea, cutting into the waves with confidence. Carol settled into one of the cushioned seats in the back, while Sam remained standing at the front, facing the ocean as the breeze blew through his hair.

Rodney distributed the lifejackets, instructing the passengers to buckle them tight. “Yes, Officer Martinez,” said Gary, accepting one and sticking his arms through it.

Rodney noticed Gary was wearing a Chicago Bears shirt. “Since when do you draw attention to yourself like that?”

“Not one person has recognized me all week,” said Gary. “I thought the anonymity would be nice, but now I'm feeling forgotten.”

“I'll ask for your autograph later,” said Rodney. “Will that make you feel better?”

“No,” said Gary. “What would really make me feel better is catching an 80-pound giant trevally. My old teammate Ric Terry hooked a 70 pounder off the coast of Florida and he challenged me to beat his record.”

“So that's what's got you fired up,” said Rodney, and he chuckled. “You still got the competitive spirit.”

“I'm gonna beat his record and throw it back in his face,” declared Gary. “That would be the icing on the cake for this trip.”

“It's been a hell of a week, hasn't it?”

“I hate to see it end.”

“What a drag,” agreed Rodney. “Back to civilization.”

Gary maneuvered the boat southward along the coastal reefs, keeping a watchful eye on the protruding coral heads. The three-foot swells remained manageable and the outrigger handled the open ocean cleanly, despite its obvious age and rust. The center console was equipped with a GPS, radio depth gauge and assorted laminated charts.

Rodney surveyed the gear provided on the boat, a complement to the personal supplies they had brought on board, including extra rods and reels, lures, fighting belt and leader gloves. A bench seat in the back opened up to offer snorkeling equipment, such as masks and fins.

As the morning sun reached higher into the sky, burning with full strength, Carol paced the boat and encouraged the others to apply extra layers of sunscreen, offering a choice of brands and strengths.

The foursome observed two other boats in the first two hours, then none at all as they continued their way south. They sighted several dolphins and Rodney claimed to catch a glimpse of a barracuda.

“You still going to check out the forbidden zone?” Rodney asked Gary, hanging close to him, holding a beer.

“Maybe,” said Gary. “Let's see how it goes. So far, it's been pretty smooth. Mother Nature is cooperating.”

Their first stop took place at one of the fishing locations identified by Jamarqui at a curve along the island's coast. Sam caught a glimpse of a dorsal fin and then Rodney spotted several large silhouettes deep in the iridescent blue. A flock of birds circled a section of water, diving for small fish driven to the surface by big underwater predators.

“Let's go get 'em!” shouted Gary with enthusiasm.

Rodney passed out the spinning rods. He spent extra time helping to prepare Carol, who kept apologizing. “I'm sorry to be such a bother. Jake should be here, not me.”

“You'll do fine,” Rodney assured her.

And she did. Carol caught the first fish, surprising everyone but no one more than herself. Rodney ran over to help her and they pulled in a small wahoo.

“Wahoo, it's a wahoo!” exclaimed Gary. “Nice going, Carol!”

“Oh no, I hurt it,” said Carol, seeing the hook stabbed through the mouth of the fish.

Rodney helped unhook it. After a photo, they tossed the fish back into the sea. “Not bad for a newbie,” said Gary.

Within minutes of Carol's catch, Sam's reel began to whirl and he grabbed on tight. He pulled up a big sailfish.

The next hour and a half continued to produce success. Rodney brought in a large yellowfin tuna. Gary snared a triggerfish, using snapping shrimp as bait. But the giant trevally remained elusive.

During a lunch break to devour the sandwiches and other food inside the cooler, Gary told the group, “I think we should go for it.”

“Oh oh, he wants to go to the forbidden zone,” said Rodney with a chuckle.

“Seriously, if it looks the least bit unsafe, we'll head back, but I can't help think that we're missing out on something big.”

Gary told Carol and Sam the story of the red border drawn on the fishing map provided by Jamarqui. He shared the remarks from Louis, the American who insisted the locals were hiding a significant fishing spot.

“I don't think we should go if the area is treacherous,” said Sam.

“That's the thing,” said Gary. “Jamarqui said the reef and currents are fine. It's not that. He said the place was haunted.”

Carol said, “With ghosts?”

“Probably some native who drank too much bad rum,” said Rodney.

“I don't even think it's a real superstition,” said Gary. “I think it has an ulterior motive. I agree with that guy Louis. He seemed levelheaded. He said not to pay any attention to it. The locals are saving the best fishing for themselves. Given everything we've pumped into the local economy, I think we're entitled to fish where we want, as long as it's not dangerous and no one's in harm's way.”

“What do you think, Sam?” asked Rodney. “Should we check it out?”

“There's a lot about this world we don't understand,” said Sam. “I wouldn't discredit Jamarqui.”

Gary said, “How about if we give it a look, and if it doesn't appear right, for any reason, we head back?”

Sam shrugged.

Gary looked across the faces of his three companions. “Who here believes in ghosts?”

No one replied. Gary stood up and brushed the lunch crumbs from his lap. “All right then. Let's go catch us some serious fish.”