Geezer Paradise (34 page)

Read Geezer Paradise Online

Authors: Robert Gannon

Tags: #Mystery, #Humor, #Retail, #Suspense, #Fiction

BOOK: Geezer Paradise
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              As we walked back to the entrance we heard a park guide telling a group of people that in the winter months, large numbers of manatees and otters swim upriver from the Gulf to swim in the spring's warm, seventy-two degree water.  As we walked the grounds I saw that the river and the surrounding area were strikingly beautiful.  It was what Old Florida looked like a hundred years ago.  I snapped pictures of everything I thought was interesting and made notes as we roamed around. 

             
"I think I have enough to write the article," I said to Willey.  "Want to go get Oscar and head back?" 

             
"Sounds good to me," Willey said.  We headed back to the entrance, and got back on the road again.

 

              I followed the instructions Evelyn gave me and found the house without any trouble.  It was a good sized house with a large, wooded lot.  Willey said he'd wait in the Wrangler.  Evelyn answered the door and let me in.

             
"I hope Oscar behaved himself," I said, as we walked to the rear of the house where Oscar and Lulu were sitting on the sofa watching television.  They made a cute couple.  I noticed Oscars shorts had been washed and ironed.  

             
"Oscar was a perfect gentleman," Evelyn said. 

             
When Oscar saw me he smiled.  "Hi, Oscar.  It's time to go home."  I reached out and took his hand.  He walked with me to the front door as Evelyn thanked me again.  Lulu followed us.  Evelyn opened the front door, and when Oscar saw the Wrangler he recoiled.  He didn't want to go home.  I stepped outside and Oscars hand pulled me back.  His other hand held firmly to the door jamb.  I gave his hand a little tug.  "Come on, Oscar," I said.   "We're going home."  Oscar held onto the doorjamb for dear life.  I bent down and tried to pick him up, but as soon as I let go of his hand he grabbed onto the doorjamb with both hands, and started to screech, "Eeeee, ee, ee."  Then Lulu started up behind Evelyn, Eeee, eee, eee."

             
Evelyn smiled, "It looks like Oscar wants to stay.  Would you mind if he stayed a few more days?  He and Lulu are quite fond of each other."

             
"Are you sure you don't mind?"

             
"Not at all.  Oscar is always welcome here."

             
"Then let me pay you for his food," I said, and reached for my wallet.

             
"I won't hear of it," Evelyn said.  "Oscar is Lulu's guest.  I'm just sorry to have brought you up here for no reason." 

             
"Actually," I said.  "I was doing research at Weeki Wachee Springs for that newspaper article I told you about.  So it wasn't out of my way at all."  I let go of Oscar's hand and he ran to the back of the house, with Lulu trailing right behind him. 

             
Evelyn said, "I'll call you in a couple of days just to let you know how things are going."

             
"Alright, I'll wait to hear from you."  I waved goodbye and headed for the Wrangler. 

             
"Where's Oscar?" Willey asked.

             
"He's going to stay for a few more days.  He didn't want to leave."

             
Willey smiled.  "That little devil," he said.  "But Sofie's going to miss him."

             
"I'm sure she'll understand," I said.  We got back on the road and headed toward Sofie's house. 

             
The next day I got a call from Evelyn.  I had to pick Oscar up as soon as possible.

             
"What happened?" I asked.

             
"I think the honeymoon is over," Evelyn said.  "I woke up this morning to the sound of screeching, and things bouncing off the walls.  Lulu was throwing things at Oscar, and Oscar was hiding under the bed."

             
"That doesn't sound good," I said.  "I'll be there as soon as I can."

             
Sofie was worried about Oscar.  She rushed me out the door to get him.

             
"That hussy," she said.  I assumed she was talking about Lulu and not Evelyn. 

             
"I'll go with you," Willey said.  We got into the Wrangler and drove north on 19 to Port Richie, on a mission to save Oscar from married life. 

             
Evelyn opened the door.  She looked a wreck.  Her hair was standing up in spikes and her blouse was hanging out of her slacks on one side. 

             
"I'm so glad you're here," she said.  "I'll get Oscar." 

             
When she returned with Oscar we saw he had a bandage wrapped around his head, a small splash of red was showing over his left eye.  Lulu must have a good pitching arm.  I apologized to Evelyn and she apologized to me. 

             
"Kids," she said.  "Go figure."  We both shook our heads.  

             
Evelyn smoothed her hair down with her hands.  She said, "Barney, you'll have to come by for coffee once you get your piece about Weeki Wachee finished.  I'd love to read it."

             
"I will," I said, and then we said goodbye.  Was I imagining things, or was Evelyn coming on to me?  Of course, in South Florida any man that is still breathing is up for grabs, so I didn't let it go to my head. 

             
We settled Oscar into the back seat.  He wasn't himself.  He was subdued, looking glum, and staring straight ahead. 

             
"Well Oscar," Willey said.  "You can't live with them, and you can't live without them."  Oscar didn't appreciate Willey's humor. 

             
When we got Oscar back to Sofie, she hovered over him like a mother hen, patting his head and telling him what a good boy he was.  She made him some lunch, but he only picked at it.  Then she tucked him into bed and let him take a nap.  He looked like he needed it.

 

              The next afternoon Willey and I got tired of watching the river and decided to go down to the main drag, Dodecanese Boulevard, and watch the tourists.  We asked Sofie if we could leave Oscar with her.  She didn't mind at all.  We didn't want to call attention to ourselves, and Oscar was a people magnate.  We asked Snydely if he wanted to come with us, but he thought it would be too dangerous.  He was probably right. 

             
Willey and I got into the Wrangler and drove down to Dodecanese Boulevard.  We found a two dollar parking space behind a gift shop.  That's about the cheapest parking you can find.  We parked, walked out to the front of the shop, and went in to pay the lady behind the counter. 

             
It was a weekend afternoon and the Boulevard was jammed with tourists.  It didn't look like the hurricane did much damage to the area.  We walked past the numerous small shops.  Across the street the sponge boats were sitting peacefully at their moorings along the sidewalk.  They didn't show any signs of hurricane damage, either.  As we passed a bakery we were drawn back to it by the aroma.  Suddenly we were starving.  We turned around and went in.  We took a small table near the windows and ordered from the counter.  We both ordered coffee and hot spinach pie.  You can't beat the spinach pie in Tarpon Springs, except for Sofie's.  We settled into our spot and watched the tourists go by.  Across the street the sight-seeing boats full of people glided past the sponge boats.  I felt I like I could reach out and touch them.  It was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.

             
Afterward we walked down to the cigar hut and bought a couple of cigars.

Then
we sat on a sidewalk bench and lit them up.  There were no self righteous stares from the crowd here.  In fact, quite a few of the men walking by were smoking cigars. 

             
"This is how life should be," Willey said.  I agreed.  We were sitting in the shade and there was a nice breeze coming off the water.  It could not be a nicer day if it tried . . . and then a dark cloud came rolling down the sidewalk.  John Flaherty was heading our way!  Willey had spotted him at the same time I did.  I reached over to a basket-like trash can next to the bench and pulled out a discarded newspaper.  I gave half to Willey and put the other half in front of my face.  Nobody was a more ardent seeker of news than Willey and I as we sat on that bench. 

             
Flaherty walked past us.  He hadn't seen us . . . or did he even know what we looked like? 

             
"Does he know what we look like?" I asked Willey. 

             
"Snydely and Stevens are the only ones who know what we look like."

             
"Let's see where he goes," I said.  We jumped up and trailed Flaherty down the street.  Before long Flaherty went into a bar.

             
"Should we go in," Willey asked.

             
I looked in the front window.  It was pretty dark in there.  "I don't have my gun on me," I said.  "What if Flaherty knows what we look like and he has a gun? Do you think he's crazy enough to shoot us?"

             
Willey scratched his beard.  "If I go in and sit at the bar and he pays no attention to me, then, after a while, you can come in." 

             
"What if he recognizes you and he shoots you," I asked.

             
"In that case, don't come in."

             
"I don't like that idea," I said.  "We'll both go in.  Besides, I don't think Flaherty would shoot us with people around."  We went in, but it was so dark we couldn't see much at first.  We sat at the bar and let our eyes adjust to the dim light.  Flaherty was three stools down from us.  If he looked at us, we didn't see it.  He was busy talking to the bartender.  We all looked up at the television when the announcer started yelling.  Someone must have hit a homerun.  The bartender looked to be Greek.  Tarpon Springs was settled by Greek sponge fishermen many decades ago.  He was weathered, and old enough to have been working a sponge boat long ago.  There were a few other men in the bar.  They were glued to the ballgame. 

             
The bartender came over and asked us what we were drinking.  We both ordered draft beers.  Then he went back to talk to Flaherty again.  My hearing isn't all that good, so it was up to Willey to eavesdrop on the conversation, and relay it back to me. 
              "What's Flaherty saying?" I asked. 

             
"Nothing important.  Baseball stuff."  I nodded and tried to look bored.  Then Flaherty started telling the bartender jokes.  The bartender laughed and Willey started laughing, too.  So Flaherty could be charming when he wasn't having people killed. 

             
"I elbowed Willey.  "Stop laughing and pay attention.  He might say something important."

             
After an hour the beers were starting to affect us.  We didn't want to drink anymore--we had to have clear heads.

             
"We can't sit here all day," I said.

             
Willey said, "The police have a warrant out for his arrest.  We could make a citizen's arrest.  After all, he's a fugitive from justice." 

             
"Do you think we could pull it off?  Maybe we should call the police."

             
"What if the police are busy and can't get here for a while?  Flaherty could waltz out of here free as a bird."  He had a point.  This was the chance we'd been waiting for.  If Flaherty was arrested it would solve all of our problems.

             
"But what if he resists?" I asked.  "It could get nasty.  I don't think the sight of two old men would scare him into surrendering."

             
"Maybe the bartender will help us.  Don't they usually keep a baseball bat under the counter to deal with unruly customers?" Willey asked.

             
I rubbed my chin.  Would the bartender help us? I wondered.  "It looks like the bartender is Flaherty's friend.  He might use his baseball bat to crease our skulls."

             
"We can't just let him walk out of here," Willey said.  "Not after what he did to Freddy and Mary."  He was right.  I looked around for a weapon.  There were three empty beer bottles on a table behind us that the bartender hadn't yet picked up.  I leaned over and grabbed two of them. 

             
"We could use these for weapons, "I said.  I handed a bottle to Willey.  "Let's try it.  We got off our barstools and strolled down the bar.  I got on one side of Flaherty and Willey got on the other side.  We lifted our empty bottles in a way that said we were going to use them to clobber Flaherty. 

             
I said, "John Flaherty, you are under citizen's arrest.  There is a warrant out for your arrest."

             
Flaherty went wide eyed.  "What?" he asked.

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