Smugglers of Mallory Square

By Jere Steele

In In the 1950's, Key West had yet to experience the melee of being sought out as a tourist-haven. Times were simpler; doors still remained unlocked on people homes, and young people could travel the island on foot or bike without their parent's being too concerned. However, with the coming of the first storm of summer, three preteen's lives would be changed forever.

On the first day of Colby's, Michael's, and Andrea's summer vacations, their lives would become intertwined with a mysterious entity from the past, and also with a more-than-scary individual lurking in the shadows.

Having to rely upon their common sense, knowledge gleaned from Nancy Drew books, and advice from their parents, the trio soon find themselves 'playing-out' a real-life mystery. Their childlike naivete, however, just may cost them their lives.

Smugglers of Mallory Square was written specifically for 10-11 year olds. No graphic language or actions are included in the story. The story was written to reflect the innocence an era gone by.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 27, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452087139

Jere Steele

Jere Steele, Professor Emeritus at the University of Florida's Developmental Research School, currently lives in Gainesville, Florida. After over thirty years of teaching, he continues to stay actively involved in learning-experiences within the community; both as a participant and also as the owner/director of the Adventure Club of Gainesville. In the classroom, Steele cherished the creative aspects of each individual's intellectual schema and designed his curriculum so students could activate their imaginations while they immersed themselves in math, science, and history. As a result, his classrooms often became theaters wherein his students would become part of the content material; traveling into the past or 'transporting' into the future Now, as a first time author of juvenile literature, he invites his readers to fire-up their imaginations and experience the `innocent era' of the 1950's; living in Key West and coming face to face with the smugglers of Mallory Square.

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Smugglers of Mallory Square

Jere Steele

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AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2010 Jere Steele. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/15/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9163-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8713-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010915355

Printed in the United States of America

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Friday, June 6th, 1958

Chapter 1: Summer Vacation

Chapter 2: The Chase

Chapter 3: The Royale

Chapter 4: The Vision

Chapter 5: Mallory Square

Chapter 6: Worried

Chapter 7: Prohibition

Chapter 8: Back to the Factory

Chapter 9: Emily Rodriquez: The Beginning

Chapter 10: Whitewash

Chapter 11: Details

Chapter 12: The Last Rendezvous

Chapter 13: Missing

Chapter 14: The Search

Chapter 15: More Clues

Chapter 16: Trapped

Chapter 17: Translation

Chapter 18: The Fire of ‘38

Chapter 19: Untied

Chapter 20: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 21: Practice

Chapter 22: Morning

Chapter 23: Dusk

Chapter 24: Sergeant Stocker

Chapter 25: Captured

Chapter 26: Taking a Ride

Chapter 27: The Escape

Epilogue: August 1958

Colby, Andrea, Michael

thanks for the ride

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Friday, June 6th, 1958

In the open-air restaurants on Key West’s Duval Street, the nighttime patrons were so engrossed in their meals and conversations that they hardly noticed the low rumbling engine noises beating through the air.

The drone of noise was emanating from a small fleet of fishing boats moored just blocks away by the docks at Mallory Square.

The boats’ crews, rather than having made the boats ready for a fishing trip, had cleared the decks of all gear and tackle and then, as they waited, busied themselves in conversation.

The short horn-burst signaling departure came just before 9 PM. Without any further communication, the boats’ captains cast-off their mooring lines and piloted their boats away from the dock. Forming a procession of sorts, they wound their way through the dark, narrow waterways and out into the channel. Once the six boats cleared island’s protective shoal, the captains brought their engines up to speed and set their headings on a southeasterly tack.

Twenty miles out to sea, they encountered their Cuban counterparts. The boats’ captains, after tying-up to the Cuban vessels, began the task of transferring aboard hundreds of cases of contraband rum. Once the transfer was completed, the Cuban vessels departed and the Key West boats, still under the cover of darkness, began their journey back toward the Square.

Hours later, as the rising sun illuminated the sky on the Atlantic horizon, the Square and all the streets around it once again stood deserted and silent. The activities that had taken place during the night were over, and the new day seemingly held the promise of good times for everyone. However, a storm was forming out over the Gulf, and it was moving directly toward the village.

Chapter 1: Summer Vacation

Worried about meeting up with her dastardly cousin Woodrow, after he had splashed mud on her the day before, Colby Nelson cautiously glanced around as she walked to the stoop of Fuller’s Drugstore with her best friend Andrea Patterson.

It’s nice outside this morning. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll be right back with the cones, said Andrea. We can eat them sitting here on the stoop.

Twenty feet above them, several seagulls swooped and flew in erratic circles as though they were spying on the girls and getting ready to launch their plan of attack.

Okay, said Colby, smiling broadly and leaning over to brush away the sand so she could sit down on the cement stoop without messing up her shorts. Halfway satisfied with her one swipe effort, she turned and lowered herself to a sitting position. In the blink of an eye, two gulls plunged down and landed on the sidewalk in front of her. As they strutted closer, they watched her every movement. Oh! Get away! she exclaimed, flipping her wrist down toward the birds. Immediately, she drew her bare legs up to her chest and placed her feet up on the single step just below her.

Andrea, not yet inside, paused when she heard Colby speak, and turned back toward the sidewalk to see what Colby was doing.

Just then, Colby shushed at the birds again, but as she looked down, her attention quickly shifted. On her feet were the new, white, open-toed sandals that her mother gave her last week as a 6th grade graduation present. Moving her head around, she looked at her new footwear from several angles. I love these so much, she thought. Mama got just the perfect thing.

The gulls continued their annoying tactics, gawking at her and moving in closer as they fussed for any kind of a crumb of a handout. Without warning, Andrea, still standing behind Colby, stomped her foot on the stoop. Although the birds paid little to no attention to the sudden noise, Colby reeled back, startled.

Oops, I didn’t mean to scare you, just the gulls. Oh well, I’ll be right back.

Andrea casually flipped her bob of dark red hair as she spun around, yanked open the screen door, and went inside the building. The door slammed with a bang behind her.

The banging sound caused Colby to jump back yet again, this time turning her head to the side, where she saw something she wished she hadn’t. A block down the street, pushing and shoving each other, was her cousin Woodrow Stout, along with a couple of his friends. No, not again today, she thought. I had enough of you yesterday. Just thinking about him made her skin feel icky.

Colby watched Woodrow and his friends for a couple more seconds as they continued their antics. Feeling sure none of the boys had spotted her, she returned her attention back to her new sandals. Meanwhile, inside the store, Andrea walked to the lunch counter at the back of the building.

~~~

Andrea Patterson displayed a lot of self-confidence for a girl not yet thirteen years old, so much so that some of her schoolmates thought she acted too stuck-up at times. Like her classmates, Andrea was part of the great post-war baby boom. She was born just nine and a half months after her father got home from World War II.

Her upbringing had afforded her a great deal of independence, both in mind and in action. Often, whenever she wasn’t in school, her father took her on his handyman jobs. Working with him, Andrea learned how to fix just about anything in or around a house. Most of all, she learned to never give up when she attempted to do something new. It was that quality that made her seem so unapproachable to some of the other kids at school. She seemed fearless; approaching uncertainty in an almost reckless manner.

As Andrea grew up, her mother, a nurse at the hospital, did her best to answer any questions that Andrea asked, and did so without talking down to her. Both her mother and her father believed that when a child was old enough to ask, that was when the child deserved a truthful answer. Sometimes, Colby would ask Andrea’s mother questions, also. Not so much because her own mom wouldn’t give her a truthful answer, but more so because her mother, a widow, often had to work long hours, and wasn’t always home. Over the years, Colby and Andrea had grown to be the closest of friends.

In the back of the drugstore was a grey Formica-topped lunch-counter, flanked with eight swivel-stools recently reupholstered with red Naugahyde. When Andrea got to the lunch counter she stopped and stood very erect. She was pleased that at 5’3" she had a slim, athletic build.

Hi, Miss Havana, she said to the waitress. I would like two waffle cones, one chocolate and one strawberry.

Single scoop?

Yes, please.

"Si, Señorita Andrea. I will fix the cones right now."

And put them on my daddy’s account, please.

As she watched the waitress pack the cones, Andrea ran both of her hands up through her new pixie haircut and then slipped them into the rear pockets of her shorts.

Here you are, the waitress said, wrapping a napkin around each cone before extending them over the counter. I don’t know how you girls can stay so thin eating ice cream at this hour of the morning. I wish I could do it. By the way, I love your new haircut. It is so cute. You look just like Tinker Bell in that movie, but with red hair.

As she took the cones, Andrea, gave her a genuine smile and thanked her, then turned and left.

~~

A big smile filled Colby’s face when she saw the strawberry cone being handed to her.

Oh! Yummy! Thanks, she said, reaching up with one hand while using the other to push her long blond ponytail off her shoulder and around behind her back. A drip rolled off the lip of the cone and landed on her forearm. She quickly attacked it with her tongue. Mmm, good.

Andrea sat down next to Colby on the stoop.

I’ve been meaning to tell you, I like your new Bermuda shorts, said Colby, and I love that color. What is it?

The tag said ‘orchid’. I kind of like it, too.

My mother says shades of light purple go good with my fair skin. After seeing your shorts, I think I better ask for some new ones, too. Mine are from last summer and the hem is beginning to fray.

Colby continued looking at Andrea, amazed by her suntan, something most redheads could never achieve because they’d burn so badly, but Andrea was different.

Mama got me these and a pink t-shirt last week when she was up in Marathon, said Andrea. They’ve got a brand new clothing store up there, and it’s just for women and girls.

Maybe we can get my mom to drive us up there when she has a day off, said Colby, but I don’t know when that’ll be. They’re having some kind of audit over at Fort Taylor.

My dad might take us, said Andrea. He likes to go to the hardware store up there. He can drop us off and then go look at the tools. I’ll ask him tonight.

Colby envied Andrea’s family. She’d lost her own father in a freakish accident in Sweden, when she was only two. Even though she and her mother had always been very close, there were times when she really missed having a father. Then again, ever since kindergarten, she’d reveled in having Andrea for a best friend, as well as being loved by her mom and dad, too.

The girls continued to talk, so completely engrossed in their chatting and shooing away pesky seagulls, that neither had noticed the heavy dark clouds rolling into the village from out over the Gulf. All at once, lightening struck a transformer box high up on a telephone pole just two buildings away, and sent a wave of static electricity racing across both girls’ exposed skin.

Dang! That was so close, said Andrea, slightly frightened. She rubbed at the fine hairs on her arms as though she were brushing off grit.

Colby’s eyes opened wide, and a body shiver, much like those from hearing nails scraping on a blackboard, raced down her back.

You’re telling me, she said. She rose to her feet quickly and brushed the sand off her white shorts, then glanced up at a long trail of smoke rising from a green box near the top of the pole. Andrea stood up, also.

Colby turned around to look up at the clouds moving in from behind the store when a second bolt of lightning struck just down the block. The accompanying boom of thunder sent both girls dashing inside. They had no sooner gotten through the door than the skies outside blackened completely and rain came pelting down.

Not exactly the plan I had for the first day of our summer vacation, said Andrea. She glanced around the store as if looking for something to do. The magazine rack in the corner by the front window caught her eye and she strolled over to it. After taking a magazine off the rack she knelt down on the wooden floor and began flipping through its pages.

Colby continued to lick her cone, and watched as Andrea walked toward the front of the store and then disappeared. Unexpectedly, the window behind where Andrea had just knelt down caught Colby’s attention. Painted in reverse on the inside of the window were the words Fuller’s Pharmacy & Emporium, and some of the gold paint from the words had flaked off giving the lettering an antique look. Colby’s favorite subject in school had been art and she wondered where someone learned to paint letters like that.

After a few more licks of her cone and a little more wondering about the lettering, she joined Andrea by the rack. A flashy magazine, written just for teenage girls, caught Colby’s eye, and after grabbing it, she knelt down on the wooden floor next to Andrea.

Both girls looked through the pages of their respective magazines until Colby, seeing an article entitled How to Choose the Perfect Guy, broke the silence.

Dang, I just remembered, said Colby sounding a little bit anxious, I talked to Michael on the phone last night and told him we would meet him at his mom’s stand on Mallory Square first thing this morning. Geez, I hope he’s not mad. She paused for a second but was unable to let go of her thoughtlessness. Doggone it! I hope he’ll wait there for us until the rain stops.

I hope he’ll wait, mimicked Andrea. You hope a lot of things about Michael. You think he’s really neat, she teased.

So what? He’s only one year younger than me, and lots of women marry younger men, said Colby.

You haven’t even kissed him yet, said Andrea. Don’t you need to do that before you marry him?

Yeah, I will. Anyway, the other day I saw him looking at me again.

She wanted to tell Andrea how much she liked the feeling she got when she saw him looking, but decided it best not to, at least not for a while.

Uh huh. Probably thinking about what you look like naked, Andrea said, still teasing.

Michael doesn’t think about me like that. Ugh, you’re disgusting!

Oh, Colby, don’t be silly. He’s a boy and boys always think about girls getting naked.

Using the back of her hand, Colby wiped at a drop of ice cream trickling toward her chin. She started to respond to Andrea, but knew from experience that doing so would just egg her on. Instead, she changed the subject.

Hey, let’s get together at my house after dinner and do my hair like the girl in this magazine. I think something like this will look good on me when I become a famous artist.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a raucous commotion just outside the store. Colby looked up and saw Woodrow and his two friends, all dripping wet, coming through the front door of the drugstore.

Dang, not again, thought Colby. Her body tensed, as if