Murder in Key West 3

By Shirrel Rhoades

Key West serves as backdrop for some of the world’s best mystery stories. Here is the third collection of murder and mayhem in Paradise, a keep-you-up-at-night anthology featuring ten leading writers who explore the dark side of the Southernmost point in the continental US: John Hemingway, Roberta Islieb (writing as Lucy Burdette), Sandra Balzo, Shirrel Rhoades, Robert Coburn, Jonathan Wood, Barthélemy Banks, Bill Craig, Mike Dennis, and Michael Haskins. “An outstanding collection of mystery stories by master storytellers...” - Hollis George, acclaimed anthologist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AbsolutelyAmazingEbooks.com
• Release date: Jun 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311470997

Book preview

Murder In

Key West

3

Murder and Mayhem

In Paradise

Edited by Shirrel Rhoades

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ABSOLUTELY AMAZING eBOOKS

Published by Whiz Bang LLC, 926 Truman Avenue, Key West, Florida 33040, USA.

Murder In Key West 3 copyright © 2016 by Gee Whiz Entertainment LLC. Electronic compilation/ paperback edition copyright © 2016 by Whiz Bang LLC.

Nacho y Lucrezia copyright © 2016 John Hemingway; An Extra Serving of Murder, an excerpt from Fatal Reservations copyright © 2015 Roberta Isleib (writing as Lucy Burdette); Four Fingers and the Dead Magician copyright © 2016 Shirrel Rhoades; Key West Pussy Cat copyright © 2015 Robert Coburn; A Lucky Man copyright © 2015 Jonathan Woods; Murder’s No Game, an excerpt from Murder on the Orient Espresso copyright © 2013 Sandra Balzo; Malloy’s Ploy copyright © 2016 Gee Whiz Entertainment LLC; Back at Work, an excerpt from Paradise Lost copyright © 2012 Bill Craig; Girl Singer copyright © 2016 Mike Dennis; The Floater copyright © 2014 Michael Haskins.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. While the author has made every effort to provide accurate information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents. How the ebook displays on a given reader is beyond the publisher’s control.

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Yes, this is the third volume of Murder In Key West. Its publication coincides with the third annual Mystery Writers Key West Fest, a conclave of famous writers, aspiring writers, and mystery fans. This book is dedicated to them.

Murder In Key West 3

Introduction

By Shirrel Rhoades

1

Nacho y Lucrezia

By John Hemingway

2

An Extra Serving of Murder

By Roberta Isleib

Writing as Lucy Burdette

3.

Four Fingers and the Dead Magician

By Shirrel Rhoades

4.

Key West Pussy Cat

By Robert Coburn

5.

A Lucky Man

By Jonathan Wood

6.

Murder’s No Game

By Sandra Balzo

7.

Malloy’s Ploy

By Barthélemy Banks

8.

Back at Work

By Bill Craig

9.

Girl Singer

By Mike Dennis

10.

The Floater

By Michael Haskins

About the Authors

INTRODUCTION

There’s something mysterious about an island, even one connected to the mainland like a vestigial tail by a series of bridges. Key West is as far south as you can go in the continental United States, an end-of-the-road town. People wind up here by choice or because they’ve run out of other options.

Key West has a history of pirates and wreckers and drug smugglers and murderers. It’s original name – Cayo Hueso – means Island of Bones in Spanish. With only 90 miles across the Florida Straights, it’s closer to Havana than to Miami.

Famous writers have lived here – Ernest Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, John Ciardi, Annie Dillard, Robert Stone, Judy Blume, among many others. Mystery writers like Stuart Woods and John Leslie hide away here to crank out bestsellers. Jimmy Buffett started out here, a place he called Margaritaville.

Now it’s home – or inspiration – to a new crop of mystery writers. Many of them gather annually for the Mystery Writers Key West Fest, a confab for professional writers, aspiring writers, and mystery fans.

This is the third annual edition of Murder In Key West, an anthology devoted to mystery short stories set on this southernmost island, penned by some of the best authors in the whodunit genre. We’ve previously included works by Heather Graham, Tom Corcoran, Lucy Burdette, and William R. Burkett, Jr. Michael Haskins, Mike Dennis, Robert Coburn, Jonathan Woods, Barthélemy Banks, and Bill Craig have been mainstays. This year we added Sandra Balzo and John Hemingway.

Join us for another excursion to the fictional crime scenes of Key West.

- Shirrel Rhoades

Key West

1.

Nacho y Lucrezia

John Hemingway

There were lots of Italians in Miami and she had come over not because she owned a restaurant or had married a Cuban. No, she was there because she had met Nacho Garcia in a bar in Madrid and by the next day had agreed to fly with him to Florida. Lucrezia was tall and blonde and even though her last name was Bolognese she was born in Trieste and came from a long line of bankers. Garcia’s family, in contrast, were cocaine smugglers. Drug lords who’d pulled themselves up from the poorer barrios of Sevilla and who now controlled the market in Spain. Of the three brothers Nacho had been put in charge of laundering their profits in Miami. He was buying penthouse condos, expensive cars and Cartier watches as fast as he could. Lucrezia, on the other hand, was an expert in renaissance art and was advising Nacho on what to buy in the local galleries. She was filling the properties that he collected with works that were pleasing to her esthetic tastes.

Garcia was smaller than Bolognese and full of tattoos. Some of them were from the two years he’d spent in jail in Spain, while others he’d had done in Columbia and Venezuela. A few of the newer ones were from Miami. She liked to think of the tattoos as a work in progress and she had an artist friend that she knew come and take photographs of them as they fucked each other in the different condos, always at twelve noon and always on the living-room floor. She called the series "La Belle et la Bête".

These were stark, artistic photos and the photographer (at least in Miami) had often been compared to Mapplethorpe for his use of contrasting ethnic groups. The work was controversial and yet there were many critics in the city who viewed the series as a kind of unofficial pictorial anthem of the Southland and of the Caribbean in general.

The Latino/gangster quality of Garcia and his tattoos combined with the statuesque and unblemished beauty of Bolognese’s body announced to the world that here was the real Miami. The vitality, the heat, the eroticism, even the bull whip that the photographer photo-shopped into Bolognese’s ass (an homage to the great Mapplethorpe) spoke volumes about the city and its future.

When they weren’t working on the series they could often be found at the Bulla in Coral Gables for tapas and drinks. It was Garcia’s unofficial office, the place where he met his brothers when they were in town, his couriers, his Santería priest (also a courier) and where his girlfriend felt at ease in her lace blouses and stiletto shoes.

Nacho wanted her to look good. The prettier the better, he thought, because the attention that Lucrezia attracted, the desire that she generated reflected positively upon him as the man who could keep such a woman. It increased his stature. It was a fact, and what’s more it was good for business. Lucrezia was an asset. There were no two ways about it, and from time to time assets were either traded, protected or dumped.

Nacho had fought professionally in Spain and continued to work out at the 5th Street gym on South Beach. He was rock solid and quick and usually just his presence was enough to keep anyone else at bay. He couldn’t say that he was jealous of Lucrezia, not in the beginning, it was just business. But his image was involved and competition, any kind of competition, had to be taught that what was his remained his.

Lucezia, of course, disagreed. She didn’t see herself as belonging to one man. Nacho was her boyfriend but no one owned her. She felt free to talk to whomever she pleased. She knew that it made him nervous, but what was she supposed to do? Pretend that she wasn’t attractive or that other men didn’t want her? Nonsense. The best defense against any overly protective man was a good offense. It had always worked for her before and it would work here too.

Garcia, to his credit, was a practical man and all he could think about in the beginning was fucking her. But then he started to get a feel for the kind of person she was and began to notice the rest of her body and the way his hand, when she was lying beside him at night, would gently trace the contours of her skin. He could do this for hours and there were times when he didn’t sleep at all, silently running his fingers down her back and her legs. Almost as if he were trying to locate something that he’d never seen. Something new and unrelated to the person he’d become.

Had he been less concerned with his company’s image, less of a trader and more of a lover, he might have taken heed of these telltale signs and run while he still had the chance. Instead he enjoyed what there was to enjoy during the day and completely lost himself to her at night.

They weren’t always in Miami. The nature of his work often took him back to Spain or down to Key West or to South America and she usually went with him. She liked to tell him that a beautiful woman at the side of an ambitious man was essential and a guarantee of his eventual success. Nacho had no doubts about his success, business was booming, and he took her with him because he didn’t like the fact that otherwise she would be on her own.

Once, when they were in Bogotá, he took her to see a corrida for the first time at La Santa Maria, the local bullring. It was a warm dry day and they had good ringside seats just below the President’s box. The arena was packed and he explained that corrida was not a sport and that the bull never won.

But I want to see the bull win, she told him.

This is an art form, he said.

Then why is that man on the horse stabbing him in the back with that long pole?

Because otherwise it would be impossible for the torero to work with the bull. Did you see how fast he was, how agile?

But the bull needs to be fast, she said as the picador drove his lance deep into the morrillo, the huge mass of muscle behind his head. The bull was large, almost 600 kilos and was trying to lift the horse and the picador off the ground with its horns. Amazingly enough, it almost succeeded before it was finally distracted by the torero.

"Next come the banderilleros," he told her. The picador had left the plaza and the bull had staked out its territory in the center of the ring. She watched anxiously as the first one rushed the bull from the side and deftly placed his barbed, festooned sticks in the animal’s right shoulder.

He’s correcting the bull, said Nacho.

He’s just provoking it, she retorted.

It had been pulling too much to the left, he insisted, and after the second banderillero it was time for the torero.

Now comes the art, he promised.

The first matador was the youngest of the three and not the star attraction but he was from Colombia and the home crowd was rooting for him. He was holding his muleta, the small red cape, and his sword and after citing the bull he began with a series of naturales and derechazos which were beautifully executed. The crowd was roaring and Nacho noticed that even Lucrezia was astonished by the grace and sensuality of his passes. He was working the bull well, bringing him in very close, exposing himself, risking everything. It was one of those magic moments when the bull was worthy of the torero and the torero of the bull. There was union between the two.

But just as quickly as this magic had appeared, it disappeared. He was about to finish with a Predresiana, and had positioned himself so that the toro would pass behind him, its horns mere millimeters away from his body. Instead the bull clipped him in his thigh just below his hipbone and threw him up into the air head over heels. It happened so quickly that almost before anyone could notice the bull had spun around and stood ready to finish off what it had begun. It gored the young torero in the other thigh and then stabbed him again in the abdomen before the three banderilleros arrived and were able to shift the bull’s attention away from their stricken employer.

So did the bull win? said Lucrezia as the torero was carried out of the bullring.

It’s not a sport, Nacho repeated.

So, it’s not going to die, right?

It has to.

But they just carried the bullfighter away.

It still has to die.

And who’s going to kill it? The senior matador would, he told her. It was his job and the kill was certainly the best they saw that day. Straight over the horns and into the heart, assuring the bull an almost instantaneous and dignified death. That was the way you