thought about what had happened. Why Catalina? Just to get her out on a boat? That seemed sort of silly. They could have said Kenum was a sportfisherman or a worker on a cruise line or a shrimper. Was that a real word, ‘shrimper’? Mary didn’t know.
Mary sensed someone behind her and she turned, thinking it was the waitress.
“Dude,” he said.
It was the Goth Boy. Mr. Crazy Jet Ski to Catalina Life Saver.
“Hey,” Mary said. “Want a beer or are you headed for the polo club?”
He smiled, revealing the tongue stud, the slid back a chair and sat down.
Mary saw her waitress and nodded toward her new companion. She came over and Tongue Stud ordered a Rusty Nail.
She raised her coffee in a toast. “To my knight in shiny piercings,” Mary said. “What’s your name?”
“Lawrence,” he said.
Mary nearly spit out her coffee. “Lawrence?” she said.
“What,” he said. “You were expecting Spike? Or Snake?”
“Something reptilian, yes,” Mary answered. “But Lawrence is nice. It fits your perfectly. You look like one of the Hardy boys.”
The waitress delivered her hero’s Rusty Nail and Mary took the opportunity to consider the situation.
“So do you come to the island often?” she said.
“What, are you trying to pick me up?”
“No need to. I slipped some Special K into your drink there. When you pass out, I’m going to have my way with you.”
“Cool, dude! Be sure to leave some marks.”
“I’m still waiting for your answer,” Mary said.
He looked at her with his face blank.
“How often do you come to the island,” she said slowly.
“Pretty regular,” Lawrence said. “Every month or so. Why?”
“Because, I’m looking for the old bastard who tossed me off his boat. Said his name was Mungo and that he ran supplies in here on a regular basis. Ring any bells?”
“Nope,” Lawrence said. “What’d he look like?”
“Old. Tan.”
“Dude, that’s all that’s out here!”
“Maybe you’ve heard of his boat.” Mary said. “He’s a big Van Halen fan…”
“The Diver Down?” Lawrence said.
The look on Mary’s face answered the question.
“That’s Dicky, man. Dicky Kay.”
Mary set her coffee down and stood.
“Let’s go see this Dicky,” Mary said.
It was a short walk to the dock, and an even shorter walk to where the Diver Down sat in its slip.
“Gee, it’s not like he and his buddy attempted murder or anything and are trying to keep a low profile,” Mary said. She shook her head. Bad guys were so brazen these days. Throw a woman overboard, cruise into the harbor and take a nap. No big deal.
Mary called out, “Hey Dicky, you dropped something back in the ocean.” She wished she had her gun, but figured that they wouldn’t try to kill her right here, with all these people. Besides, she knew she could kick Dicky Kay’s ass, and she fully intended to do just that.
She and Lawrence waited but no response came.
“Maybe he’s sleeping, dude,” Lawrence said. “Or taking a crap.”
“Nothing gets the bowels moving faster than trying to kill someone,” Mary said.
Mary cupped her hands around her mouth. “Dicky, if you’re taking a crap, flush, wipe, then come out with your hands up. After you wash them, I mean.”
They waited, but there was no response. “Dude, I’m goin’ in,” Lawrence said. “I’m digging this. Feel like I’m on Cops.”
That was fine with Mary. She didn’t want to trespass, get in trouble and lose her p.i. license. She looked around, but nobody seemed to be interested in what they were doing. Until moments later when Lawrence burst from the boat’s cabin and started puking his way out of the boat and onto the deck.
“Bad Rusty Nail?” she said to him.
A couple people started looking over and Mary knew Lawrence was going to call the cops immediately. So she leapt onto the deck of the Diver Down and went straight to the cabin.
Once her eyes adjusted, she immediately saw Dicky. He was flat on his back on the floor, and his body looked like it had been subjected to the infamous Torture of a Thousand Cuts. His skin was literally slashed everywhere on his body. Great folds of it lay exposed, and folded over, revealing deep red crevasses of flesh.
There was a lot of blood.
But the blood seemed to be too splashed around. It covered the floor. And only the floor. None on the walls or the ceiling. Almost as if there was a pattern. She cocked her head.
And then she saw it.
The blood was smeared into letters.
Enjoy the floor show.
Twenty-five
Mary spent the night in Catalina, but at least it