Death on Duval Street (Chapter-3)

I’M NOT SURE JUST WHY, but after finishing a couple of chapters of my book, I called Brian. The story had finally come together, and I was ready to get it done. I needed to concentrate on the murder mystery before me.

When he answered, I said, “Brian, do you have some time to listen as I run a story idea past you?”

“Of course, Jay. For you? Anything. But, we’ll have to get together here at the club. I’ve got a rehearsal at about one-thirty. Is that okay?”

“Well, the food’s not all that good at the outside bar, but okay.”

I hung up and finished getting dressed.

I don’t know why I liked Brian. He’s at least ten years younger than me and a bit immature. And that “on stage” persona just hangs around his neck like a ten-pound necklace with no obvious use or beauty. But, he’s creative. And he appreciates my weird ideas.

I arrived a few minutes before Brian, ordered a large cherry cola, then sat at one of the tables near the street. I watched as Brian sauntered along the sidewalk as if he knew people were watching him. He had told me once that he walked that way specifically for that reason. When he said that, I couldn’t help myself but try not laughing which caused me to choke out loud. So, I pretended to have caught something in my throat.

Brian is the performer;, not me. So my attempt at acting resulted in a knowing smile creeping across my lips.

“You seem to be happy this morning,” I spoke with a smile as he walked up to the table. He pulled out a chair, raised his hand, and called out to the bartender, “One Bloody Mary. And go light on the tomato juice.”

“Hung over?” I said as my grin widened.

“Shut up, Jay. I’m the one at this table who drinks. So, keep your sarcasm to yourself. And, as a matter of fact, I am happy this morning. Lots have happened. And I’ll tell you everything once I’ve gotten a little more vodka down me and maybe a hamburger, as well.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about your escapades. I just hope I have some time to ask your opinion on a new idea before you have to be at rehearsal.”

“No problem.”

Just then, the barkeep sat a rather weak-looking drink on the table; he sat my cherry cola down as well. I heard a muffled “humph” coming from his lips.

“You got a problem with the order?” I inquired.

“No sir. It’s just that...”

“I know. You figure you won’t get much of a tip from me since I don’t imbibe. Right?”

“I didn’t say a word,” he mumbled as he walked back to the bar where he pretended to be busy cleaning up.

“You shouldn’t give him such a hard time,” Brian said as he chuckled aloud. “He’s only been working here for about a month. But, he knows that he has to do the day shift in the outside bar so he can earn the privilege of tending the inside bar where the big bucks flow.”

“I know. So, here’s my dilemma. My publisher is wanting me to write a murder mystery or a political thriller instead of my normal historical novels.”

“Hey, I understand. But, if you write something that more people will buy, they’ll make more money, and so will you. I don’t see the problem.”

I swirled the straw around in the glass in front of me as I thought about what to say next. I think my face was drooping because Brian said, “You’ll be okay, Jay. You’re a great writer. Besides, you might benefit from a change of genre.”

“I’m not a mystery writer, Brian. I’m really good at research. And I’m good at writing about things that happened a long time ago. Besides I’m not too adaptable to change.”

Brian’s head went back as a bit of Bloody Mary spewed from his mouth.

“No shit, Sherlock! I heard the stories of what you were like when you first moved here. You were a wreck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, I’m going to do it.”

“Good.”

“But, I need a storyline. I did the research and discovered that over the past twenty-five years, nothing has happened in Key West that could even pretend to be a murder.”

“And your point is what?” Brian stated dripping with pure irony in his voice. “I mean, makeup something. Isn’t that what fiction writers are supposed to do?”

Actually, I had to smile at that comment. He caught me with my tongue flat on the table. No excuses. I had no recourse.

“Besides, he continued, “something has happened, or should I say something is about to happen that just might make a great storyline.”

“What?” I said allowing my eagerness to sit in the air for several seconds.

“Oh, I’m not ready to spill that just yet. You’ll have to wait until later.”

“You’re not going to pull that dramatic stall on me, are you?”

“Not really, Jay. I guess I can tell you what I know to this point.”

Just then the waiter walked out of the kitchen door near the back of the porch and took our orders for lunch. It was now nearly noon and about twenty other people had gathered for the noon-hour meal while we were talking.

“So, here’s what I heard through the grapevine. A church in Miami has applied for a permit to have a float in the Fantasy Fest Parade this year.”

I laughed out loud and said, “Which church is it?”

“The Christian Center.”

“Oh, wow. That’s one of the big ones. Their pastor is hot on building his group into a small denomination, I hear.”

“So, you think they could pull it off?”

“Oh, yeah. You bet. They’ve got some big bucks behind them. Several major politicians and business people are members and/or sympathizers with what that guy is doing.”

“Well, there’s a meeting tonight of the parade committee. They’re supposed to be deciding on whether the group gets one of the spots in the parade.”

As we were talking, two of the band members arrived and drifted over toward our table.

Harvey, who is the bassist, jumped into the conversation at this point with, “Can anyone attend the meeting when they talk about the application?”

“I don’t know,” Brian responded. “But, you might want to call Lolita Johansen. I heard she’s on the committee,”

Harvey walked out of earshot of the others and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed and spoke quietly. When he returned to the table, Ernie asked, “What did you find out? Is the meeting open to the public?”

“Yeah. Starts at seven at the old city hall building. You want to go together?”

“What time do you want to meet?”

“Why don’t we meet at the Blue Parrot for a drink before we go?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brian answered.

At this point, the other members of the band arrived and they all went into the main hall and began their practice.

As Brian stood he asked me, “You coming, too?”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this little circus for anything. Some of the best entertainment we’ve had here in years.” Realizing what I had said, I added, “Uh, present company excluded, of course.”

Brian smiled, reached over, gave me a hug, and then ran off into the club.