A Cult in Paradise; Episode 49, A-Two-Hundred Dollar Meal

This is episode forty-nine of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.

A Two-Hundred-Dollar Meal

Paul stowed his gear in one of the empty crew’s cabins. Then, Sage took Paul to a local clothing store to buy attire worthy of a deckhand. In the meantime, Trace said he would visit a couple of Talei’s nephews to see if they knew of anyone who needed a job. Makani returned to The Tramp Islander to watch over it. He promised not to speak to reporters, only the police.

Trace walked along the street next to the harbor. It led to a fishing gear store and bait shop owned by one of Talei’s nephews. Trace got along well with him at the fautsi. Trace thought he might be a good resource to steer a deckhand The Tramp Islander’s way. 

On the way there, Trace came across a sobering and pitiful sight. Someone, in a soiled white robe, bent over a garbage can next to a restaurant. It was one of the ex cult members. He retrieved discarded food wrapped in a napkin. He picked through it and flicked the flys away. 

“Geez,” Trace said to himself, “I saved him for that.”

Trace hurried his pace and drew closer. “Hey!” He said.

Without looking, the man in the white robe began running away. 

‘I know I can catch a guy in a robe,’ Trace thought, and ran after him. 

Less than two hundred yards, Trace came within an arm’s length. He grabbed his shoulder, and the man lost his balance. He stumbled and fell to the ground face down.

Trace breathed heavy, trying to catch his breath. The man in the robe rolled over and faced Trace.

“Tom!” Trace said, “What on earth?”

Trace extended his hand and helped Tom to his feet. They both rested their hands on their knees for a moment until they stopped gasping for air.

“I thought everyone your members were off the island,” Trace said. “What are you still doing here?”

“I don’t have any money,” Tom said. “No one to vouch for me back home.” 

“There has to be somebody,” Trace said. “What about the others? Couldn’t they have helped you?”

“Because I was the spokesmen for the group, I was detained longer,” Tom said. “When the authorities were done with me, everybody was gone. I applied for assistance at the embassy, but they said it could take as much as six weeks.”

“When’s the last time you had something to eat?” Trace asked.

“Two days ago,” Tom said. “If you hadn’t come along, it would have been five minutes ago.”

“Come on,” Trace said, “let’s walk back to the restaurant where you were going through their cans. I’ll get you something to eat, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you home.”

They started walking back to the restaurant. 

“I don’t understand why nobody can vouch for you back in The States,” Trace said.

“Like most on the island, I come from a pretty good background,” Tom said. “My dad was an investor. He invested other people’s money. When I became involved with Members of the Cosmos, Dad sent a couple of thousand a month. Like everybody else, it was disguised as paying for a spiritual enlightenment. Some paid more, much more. A couple of years ago, my mother died. Dad took to the bottle. He invested poorly and devised some sort of Ponzi scheme to pay for his lifestyle, money lost on neglected investments, and my spiritual journey. It all caved in on him. He was about to face the consequences when he consumed a bottle of pills with a bottle of vodka.”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” Trace said.

“I can’t help but think I had as much to do with it as his drinking and bad business.”

“Things happen beyond our control,” Trace said. “If you knew, you probably would have done something about it.”

“By the time I found out, it was too late,” Tom said. “Demeter found out and held it over my head. Because he wasn’t receiving anything from my father, he gave me other things to do. I had to prove my loyalty and worth.”

“You became a snitch,” Trace said.

“How did you know?” Tom said.

“I know the man, Demeter, and I know his type,” Trace said. “And why else would, at least, somebody from the group not offer some sort of help? I’m sure they were aware of what happened.”

“On the voyage here, I confessed to everyone,” Tom said.

“They already knew I was a snitch,” Tom said. “Before my dad died, I was already in trouble with Demeter. He forgave it, but it was always present.”

“What was it?” Trace said.

“Paul, Sylvia, and I had expressed doubts,” Tom said. “He figured it out. He knew that he could not compromise Paul or Sylvia, and with the situation with my dad, I was perfect.”

They walked up to the restaurant. It had wooden shutters that flapped down from above by pulleys. The ocean breeze passed through the restaurant. It was charming and cozy. 

“Here we are,” Trace said.

“This is kind of an expensive place,” Tom said. “Some arrogant American owns it. He chased me away from his cans yesterday. When you yelled, I thought it was him. Can’t we try someplace down the way?”

“It’s too far to walk,” Trace said.

“The guy looks like he belongs to the mafia or the New York Giants,” Tom said.

“I spent time on the Bering,” Trace said, “tough men, real tough. Tough men understand guts and money.” Trace clicked his cheek. “I got guts and money, and I’m from Texas. We don’t scare easily.”

They walked into the restaurant. It was empty. A large man with black wavy hair sat at the bar. 

“That’s him,” Tom said.

“He’s big,” Trace said.

A waitress walked up to the man and whispered something. The man turned. A large scar ran from his right ear to the mid-jaw. He breathed deep. His pig-like nostrils flared.

“That looks like a nice table over there,” Trace said and pointed to one having a view of the surf. 

They sat at the table. 

The man walked over to the table. “Your friend will have to leave.”

“Why,” Trace said.

“He’s filthy and not dressed properly for my usual clientele,” the man said.

“Look at me,” Trace said. “I’m dressed in kakis smeared with grease, motor oil, and grass stains.”

“Then you both can go,” the man said.

“Look,” Trace said, ‘my friend hasn’t eaten in two days.”

“Get up and get out or I’ll throw you out,” the man said gruffly,  grabbing Trace under the arm.

Trace stood and stared coldly into the man’s eyes. “Get us a menu.”

The man raised his hands to shove Trace, but before they made contact, Trace kneed him in the crotch. The man growled painfully. Trace grabbed the man’s hair and pulled his head up. “If you don’t get us a menu, I’ll grab a spoon and dig your eye out of its socket,” Trace released the grip on his hair.

The man struggled while walking away. He studied himself by grabbing chairs. He returned with two menus.

“Thank you, sir,” Trace said. “Before you go,” Trace continued, reaching for his wallet. He pulled it out and removed two hundred-dollar bills. “I think this will cover everything.”

The man took the money and took a step away.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Trace said.

“Thank you, sir,” the man said.

“Give us a couple of minutes and send the waitress. Thank you,” Trace said.

Tom leaned across the table and whispered, “What if he goes and gets a gun?”

“He’ll shoot us,” Trace said. “Until then, let’s look at the menu, order, and enjoy our meal.”

Tom looked at the menu. Then he looked over the top of the menu at Trace. “Should I tell him about the coconut?”

They broke into laughter.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 48, A New Deckhand

This is episode forty-eight of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.

A New Deckhand

Three days later, the wedding occurred without a hitch. It was held on the deck of The Tramp Islander. A fautasi was held at a nearby beach. 

The next day, Adam and Talei flew to Hawaii, where they planned to honeymoon for a week. Then they planned to return to Texas.

Coyote flew out on a later flight. Pete flew back to Suva. 

After the wedding and reception, a detective returned to The Tramp Islander and took statements from Trace and Sage. He did not seem to be bothered that Adam and Coyote had left Pago Pago. Trace surmised it was less paperwork for the detective, who seemed not too interested in the case anyway. 

Trace and Sage sat in the pilothouse. Trace sat at the chart desk, and Sage was on the bench across from him.

“Well,” Sage said, “how do ya ’spose we find a crew?”

“If we were in Suva, Allie could help us,” Trace said. “I met some of Talei’s cousins, maybe they can help us.”

“I’m gonna get a beer,” Sage said. “Ya wanna come along?”

“Nah,” Trace said. “Makani is someplace in Pago Pago. I want somebody here just in case one of the ex-members shows up or the police have some more questions.”

“I heard most of ‘em have left the island,” Sage said. “Some of ‘em have probably had a belly full of paradise.”

“Heard anything about Demeter?” Trace asked.

“He’s sitting in jail,” Sage said. “I guess they’ve been trying to get him for a while. Law enforcement put it on the back burner. I heard murder charges are on the table.”

“I want to get a crew and get out of here before it becomes news,” Trace said. “The government is going to have to make a case without me.”

“And me,” Sage said.

“We probably speak for Makani, too,” Trace said.

“Nobody speaks for Makani,” Sage said.

“That’s for sure,” Trace said. “He’s probably selling the story  to some tabloid right now.”

Sage stood. “There’s a beer in a little bar not far from here. It’s an off-brand. It’s label says, Sage.”

“You can also have the one labeled, Trace,” Trace said. 

“See ya after I finish yours,” Sage said, and he walked out of the pilothouse.

Trace picked up a book that lay on the chart desk. “Texas by Michener,” Trace said. “He wrote about the South Seas and Texas, right down my alley.”

Trace lay on the bench and began to read. It did not take him long to realize this novel would touch him like no other because he would see himself, his ancestors, the folks he grew up with, those who worked the Troy ranch, and all their ancestors in between these pages. He couldn’t wait to arrive at its end.

After half an hour, his eyes became heavy. He laid the book on his chest and began to visualize what he read. Seeing Texas was a sure way to ease into a peaceful sleep. However, “Ahoy!” He heard.

Trace laid the book on the chart desk and looked out the window. A scrawny, dark-haired lad stood on shore.

Trace leaned out the window. “What’s up?” He thought it might be a reporter looking for a story.

“Permission to come aboard.”

“Permission denied,” Trace said firmly.

“Please.”

“Please denied!” Trace retorted.

“Pretty please.”

“No, now go away,” Trace said.

“Petty please with sugar on top.” 

Trace squinted his eyes. The lad looked familiar. “Okay, come aboard. I’ll give you a minute.”

The young man walked into the pilothouse.

Trace stood. “Don’t I know you?”

“Sort of,” he said. “You probably know my father better. And our meeting was brief and not among the best of circumstances.”

Trace smiled. “You’re Waldo Franks kid, Paul.”

“Paul Purnell,” he said and reached out to shake Trace’s hand. “I want to thank you. And so does my dad.”

Traces smiled broadly and shook Paul’s hand. “Have a seat,” Trace gestured to the bench.

Paul sat on the bench.

“So you flew to Suva to meet your dad?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Paul said.

“How is he?”

“He’s good.”

“You never met him before, right.”

“No,” Paul said. 

“Was it hard?” Trace showed a willingness to be understanding.

“Not at all,” Paul said. “It was something we both wanted very badly. I don’t understand his life choices and he can’t figure out mine, but he’s glad of the ones I chose.”

“Well,” Trace said, “I can tell you, he loves you very much.”

Paul smiled and bobbed his head. “We met every day for a week. It’s incredible how many years we crammed into that time.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Trace said. “And how is Sylvia.”

“When Sylvia and I were locked up, we already made up our minds that we should separate for a while. We didn’t know whether it was love or just emotions, given our dire circumstances. So she went back to The States with he mom and dad. We both needed a breather.”

“And what about you?” Trace asked.

“My dad gave me some advice,” Paul said. “I ask him for it.”

“Stay away from casinos?” Trace responded.

“Yeah,” Paul said, “really.”

“Well,” Trace said, “I’m sure he gave you good advice.”

“He did.”

“I’m curious,” Trace said.

“He told me to see you about a job,” Paul said. “Even if it’s a cabin boy.”

“You’re kidding me,” Trace said.

“No, I’m not,” Paul said.

“Exactly when do you slit my throat in my sleep?” Trace smirked.

“I understand how you feel,” Paul said, “but my dad speaks very highly of you. He said working and learning from you would be the second best thing he could ever do for me.”

“What’s first best?” Trace asked.

“It’s sad,” Paul said, “but he said the best thing for me is for him to stay locked up.”

“I don’t know,” Trace said, “It takes some muscle and stamina to work the decks on a schooner.”

“I was a wrestler in college,” Paul said, “first place in my weight class in our conference. I’m stronger than I look.”

“Well,” Trace said, “you do have a good grip. But do you have any idea what it’s like to be in the middle of the ocean with nothing to do and few people to talk to?”

“Remember,” Paul said, “Flint Island.”

Trace half smirked. “Okay, but if Sage comes back here with two deckhands you’re out. And by the way, I don’t think they have cabin boys anymore.”

Sage returned a few minutes later. He was alone.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 47, Big Changes in Pago Pago

This is episode forty-seven of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Big Changes in Pago Pago

The voyage to Pago Pago lasted six days—uneventful days. There were two days of rough seas along with rain. The former cult members, at first, found it difficult to adjust to their freedom. Demeter continued to be isolated. None of the ex-members paid him little attention.

Demeter finally ate.

Trace warned the passengers that they had just been given their freedom. Why trade the subjugation and confinement they just left for a hefty jail sentence? 

They docked in Pago Pago. Before docking, Tom was elected as the group's spokesman. 

As the passengers stepped from The Tramp Islander and onto the dock, Trace called through the mic for Makani.

He rushed up the companionway. “What’s up, Cap?”

“How’s the food supply?” Trace asked.

“Low,” Makani said. 

He handed Makani an envelope full of money. “Go and get supplies. Have it delivered immediately?” Trace lifted his head. “Here comes the fuel truck. I have water coming too. As soon as the water and fuel tank is full and you’re back, we’re leaving.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Makani said. 

“Take Sage with you,” Trace said.

Makani scurried down the companionway. Soon he and Sage popped up from the forward companionway and climbed onto the dock. They trotted toward the maritime commissary.

An immigration officer came onboard, and Trace invited him to the pilothouse. He asked a lot of questions, and Trace gave him as much information as he could. He told him Tom was the spokesman and a reliable source of information. 

“Thanks for your cooperation and the information,” the officer said.

“I’m glad we got those folks off the island,” Trace said. 

“Enjoy Pago Pago,” the officer said. “I might have some more questions.”

“Sure,” Trace said with a sickly smile.

The officer left the pilothouse. Trace watched him walk away.

‘I sure hope Makani and Trace get back here soon,” Trace thought. ‘He didn’t tell me to stay. He just said enjoy Pago Pago. That’s not saying, stay. And so what if he does have more questions? He didn’t say it was me that had to answer them. He was just stating a fact, he had more questions. I can’t read his mind.’

Trace heard steps coming up the companionway. It was Adam. He tossed a bag of gear into the pilothouse.

Trace looked surprised. “What’s this?”

“I’m leaving,” Adam said. “I’m asking Talei to marry me. If she says no, I’ll fly home from here.”

“Fair enough,” Trace said. “That will leave us a little short but we can manage.”

“I’m not so sure,” Adam said. “Coyote is coming with me.”

“I can still make it back to Fiji with Sage and Makani,” Trace said. “Unless you talked them into leaving too.”

“No,” Adam said. “I know you want to get out of here as quick as possible, but if Talei says yes, I want you, as captain of The Tramp Islander, to marry us.”

Trace stroked his hair.

“I understand if you don’t want to,” Adam said.

Trace smiled. “Of course, I want to. I just don’t want to get any more mixed up in this thing than I already am. Sticking around might complicate things.” He clicked his cheek. “I’ll marry you two, and you get on a plane and get out of here. Get back to Texas. I’ll stick around, answer their questions. Besides, I’ll need the time to find two deckhands.”

Adam reached for the handle to the pilothouse door and grabbed it. He stopped and turned to Trace. “We did a good thing. Everybody has to have enough wind to fill out their sails. You know, to get from one place to another. What we did is enough good back there to fill our sails for a lifetime.”

Adam walked away with his bag. Trace watched him leave The Tramp Islander. Adam never looked back. And Trace was sure it was not for the lack of wanting to; he had something much stronger waiting.

Trace collapsed into the captain’s chair. “I've got to look up how a sea captain marries and find a couple of deckhands.”