Fiction
Return To Shandy Bay Part 2
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
We were just about to leave when Rick strolled out of his office into the bullpen. Most of the writers had straggled in and were getting their morning beverages and firing up their computers. We’d had a chance to speak with Roberto De La Cruz when he’d arrived and found out it would be another two weeks before his partner, Tim Rice would be able to come back to work.
In our opinions, Tim and Roberto should feel very lucky they were still alive. If we hadn’t found them in those barrels at Uttar Textiles, they would have ended up dead and sitting at the bottom of the Colorado River.
“James? You and Johnson wait up a minute. De La Cruz!”
“Yes sir?”
“Uh, don’t make me have to yell across the bullpen. Come over here, son.”
Roberto placed his coffee mug on his desk and ambled over.
“Yes sir?”
“Okay, since you’re short a partner I want you to hang with James and Johnson on the story they’re about to work.”
“Sure, if that’s okay with Henry and Sunny.”
Rick gave us a withering glare as if to say the next words spoken would be coming from him, not from us.
“All of you people seemed to have forgotten who the hell is running this magazine. It’s okay with Henry and Sunny because I say it’s okay. You three got that?”
We all nodded in silence as Rick stared at us, a look of agitated exasperation twisting his normally stoic expression.
“Well?”
“Well what Rick?”
“Why the hell are you three still standing here? Don’t you have a story to tend to?”
Rick spun around and headed into the breakroom down the hall next to the bullpen. Seconds later we heard him bellowing his dissatisfaction with someone grabbing the last bit of coffee without bothering to make another pot.
“Roberto, that’s definitely our cue to get the heck out of here. Grab your gear and meet us downstairs in the lobby.”
After a brief discussion, well actually a heated discussion on whose vehicle we were going to take we all piled in and drove out of the parking lot. It was going to be a little over three hours before we made it Shandy Bay, so the first order of business was a stop at a local quickie mart for traveling food and refreshments.
For a trip like this, one should never be without a sufficient supply of Twinkies, Slim Jims, and Ho-Hos. Oh, and a batch of caramel-flavored rice cakes that tasted terrible but seemed to be the only thing one of us was willing to snack on.
“You two are going to stroke out eating that crap.”
“Better than that salt lick you’re eating.”
We passed the Shandy Bay city limit sign a little under four hours after leaving Dark Sides, slowing to a speed that would accommodate a closer inspection.
Originally, Shandy Bay had been established to capture the summer tourist trade, but when we’d first visited the place eight years ago, the lack of tourists was one thing that triggered our suspicions. As it was then, the town square, complete with an immense water fountain in the center and lines of shops facing the cobblestone streets was empty. The fountain was no longer spewing massive amounts of water into the air, now a silent collection of lime green mold and pond scum.
There was no lack of parking spaces so we parked and got out, traipsing along the sidewalks of the square, stopping from time to time to peer into the windows of closed antique and novelty shops.
“Henry, this place has become a ghost town.”
“I see that princess. Remember how picture-perfect all the shops and stores were back then?”
“Yeah, it’s like when we shut Enrique’s little haunted bay scheme down the money dried up and so did the town.”
“So what happened?”
“Of course, this was before your time, Roberto. Henry and I stumbled onto a drug smuggling situation and the entire town was involved. Back then each and every shop owner had the money to keep the town properly maintained.”
“And Rick says Escobar is going to try to establish Shandy Bay as an entry point again?”
“You know that’s what’s been bothering me since he told us this morning.”
“What’s that Henry?”
“How did he know, princess? How is it Rick seems so connected to this information?”
“You heard what he said, old man. He was playing a round of golf with Charlie Alvarez and Charlie told him narcotics thinks this is where Escobar’s going to make his play.”
“But why us? Why does Rick want us here? If narcotics thinks this is where Escobar is going to make his play, how come they’re not here? Look around Sunny. Do you see any police, hell do you see anybody in this town at the moment except us? And why now? Why did Rick insist we be here now?”
“Maybe because he thinks it’s going to happen soon.”
“Possibly Roberto, or maybe he knows it’s going to happen soon.”
“How the hell would he know that Henry?”
“I have no freaking clue princess, but something’s not right here. I can feel it.”
“That’s probably just indigestion from all that crap you ate on the way down.”
“Bite me, Johnson.”
“Look, remember that motel we stayed in a couple of miles outside of town? If it’s still open let’s book us some rooms for the week and then start poking around.”
“Yeah, I hope that diner we found is still open.”
“Oh my God old man, you’ve been munching on crap the entire trip and now you’re hungry?”
“Hey, I’m still a growing boy.”
“Sorry Sunny, but I’m with Henry. I could eat.”
“Roberto? You and this old fart here are impossible. Fine. Let’s see if the motel’s open and then we’ll see if the diner’s open so you two pigs can belly up to the trough.”
We stared at each other as our female partner stomped along the sidewalk in the direction of the car.
“Was it something we said, Henry?”
“It’s always something we said, Roberto. You should know that by now.”
“Are you two clowns coming or not?”
“Come on Roberto. Let’s not keep the lady waiting.”
Read On — Return To Shandy Bay Part 3
Let’s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.
