A Tourist in Mayberry

Part 9/1) The Mayor Explains Where He's Been

A misunderstanding. It was all a misunderstanding that cost me a ton of potential income, 10,000 dollars out of my own pocket, a trip out of the country, and some explaining to do later.

A couple of years ago, I was replaced, by Randall Michael Wall, after years of devoted service to my friend and boss. I was upset about this. My friend reassured me I was just as useful to him in our shared business world. I believed him. When the deal and the break-up of the Future Economic Development Commission occurred, I thought my goose was cooked. But, I was sure I could convince my colleague that the annexation deal was dangerous and just too close to home. It was too close to his home. We needed to get out. We needed to end the deal even if it meant we both lost money.

Then came the visit from the old man with a threat I found amusing. A threat that was all over a whore maid. Did he know who and what he was dealing with? I was not afraid. Not until Randall Michael Wall came to see me shortly after the old man visit. I was apprehensive when he said the boss wanted to see me. This is it, I thought. He is not going to give me a chance to explain. I am about to be disposed of and by this rank amateur at that. How absurd. My friend did not even have the decency to do it himself. I guess he knew I would be suspicious, especially after the deal went south, and we lost so much money.

I offered Randall Michael Wall 10,000 dollars not to kill me. He said he did not come to kill me, just to take me to the boss. I said I would give him the money to tell the boss he could not find me. OK, he agreed, but I will be back tomorrow.

After I was sure he was gone, I went by my house to pick up the bags and money I always kept packed, and then went by the office to get some papers I needed. I kissed Sandy Gail goodbye like I would never see her again. It was a kiss she would not soon forget. I was at the airport loading the plane before Randall Michael Wall reported to the boss that he looked all over town, and I was nowhere to be found.

My first couple of days in the islands were quiet and uneventful. I was nervous and afraid. I soon became bored, went to the beach bar and decided, if I was a marked man, might as well live it up. I changed hotels to be safe though. I learned at an internet cafe that my disappearance made the news. So funny that the whore maid was a suspect. That whore maid, Candi, who thought she was too good for me. I love irony.

I began to have more fun, and then a life changing event happened. I caught a girl robbing me, and I killed her. Before I killed her, the whore ran to the bathroom which was stupid because she was trapped. She flashed her titties to distract me and then unzipped my pants, but I put her throat between my hands and choked the life out of her. Her neck fit so perfectly in my hands. It was like it was meant to be. It was exhilarating and liberating. I know it is hard to believe, but she was my first. I killed before, you couldn't work for my friend without getting your hands dirty, but I never decided who or when or why or even, no why/no reason, let's just kill something. I now knew this was what I was meant to do all my life. This made me feel more alive than I felt in years. I needed to get back home. I had to see my friend to share my new found pleasure that I was sure he would understand. I sent a postcard.

And then, the words any lost soul longed to read:

Come home. All is forgiven. You have my word.

I knew my friend was a man of his word. I took the suitcase with the remainder of the girl's body - she was a tiny little thing - down to the dumpster and threw her out with the rest of the trash. I called my wife. I told her how overwhelmed I had been with the mayor's job and all the wheeling and dealing. I told her I thought I may have had a nervous breakdown. I cried. She was so grateful to hear my voice she cried too. She begged me to come home. I told her to call Sheriff Nichols and tell him that she heard from me, and I was ok. I packed my other bags and headed home to Mount Airy.

_______________

The suitcase with the tiny theif was found three days after the mayor left the island. The finder, a regular at the landfill, fought with his fellow landfill pilferers and entrepreneurs over the suitcase because it was obvious it was an expensive suitcase and would bring at least ten American dollars at the flea market. It was full too, maybe with some clothing or toiletries that could be sold as well. Finding the suitcase and laying first claim to it was like finding the pirate's booty buried where x marks the spot.

"At least open it in front of us," said his friends, to Mr. Finders Keepers after they finally relented it was his. They wanted to see the treasure, and maybe change their minds and argue more if there were something truly valuable inside.

Against his better judgment, Finders Keepers opened the suitcase because nothing says look what I have that you don't more than showing or telling people what you have that they don't. This is why most lottery winners eventually come forward. There is nothing like showing the world the big check because it shows the world you deserve this good fortune because of something you did right that they did not.

The excitement built as the suitcase was unzipped. You could almost hear the drum roll. And then, the youngest treasure hunter said it succinctly, "Ugh."

The smell was nose singeing and eye watering. The smell was not coming from the suitcase's landfill proximity, but from the contents - a clear plastic trash bag stuffed with a soupy mess of a girl dressed only in black lace panties. The youngest treasure hunter threw up. Another man went to the guardhouse to call the police.

Dammit, thought Finders Keepers. Should have opened it at home. The cops are never gonna let me keep it now.

When the police arrived, the lead detective was a 43 year old transplant from New York named Zebulon Sorrentino. Zeb Sorrentino decided to retire to Barbados after a night of drinking Coronas and binge watching Caribbean Life on HGTV. I can do it, he thought. There is nothing holding me here. Retire to sunny paradise. He was burnout on seeing dead bodies and unsolving crime. And he did it, like the people on the show, he left the cold of New York City and moved to the island and got a job at the police station. This job was slower paced and satisfying most of the time. Sorrentino was good at his job. His nickname was Bulldog.

Detective Sorrentino sighed when he saw the girl's body in the expensive suitcase. He knew what the chief was gonna say. Bad for business, bad for the town, don't make a stink. In the last three years he had been here, three girls were found dead near the hotels. One per year. Three locals, most likely killed by a tourist or traveler. He was sure, because of this suitcase, that this was the same deal. He leaned in to look closer. He looked in her purse. No id, only bubble gum lip gloss, a pack of gum, and a kitty cat coin purse. You could tell she was young. God, he prayed this wasn't little Hannah Brathwaite. Her desperate mom filed a missing person's report two days ago. He leaned over the body again. Impossible to tell by merely looking, but it was probably her. He sighed again. He was tired of looking the other way. He was going to find who did this, and he did not care if it was bad for business or not. Sorrentino temporarily forgot how he got burned out in the first place. It was from giving a damn.

After the coroner came and picked up the body, Detective Bulldog Sorrentino paid Finders Keepers fifty bucks for the suitcase. He knew if he did not, there would never be a phone call from the landfill again. He put the suitcase back in his trunk and made a phone call to a friend from New York City with connections. He left a voicemail. It said, "It's me. I need that favor you owe me. Call me back as soon as you can."

When he got home, Detective Sorrentino called the chief to update him on the body in the suitcase. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna stir things up. Looked like another young hooker. Not much evidence," he said even as he was looking at the suitcase. "I'm gonna ask around the hotels tomorrow. See if anyone knows anything."

Next, he called his mom and told her he was coming home for Thanksgiving. "Yes, gonna spend about two weeks with you. I'm working on a case. Got to talk to some friends about some evidence in a murder case I am working here."

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Sorrentino flew to New York City with the suitcase. He only stayed a few days there because he had to go see a man down south.

This man had information for him about the case, unbelievable information linked to an old, unsolved missing person case. A case that was twenty years old.