Apples and Serpents in Paradise

Charlie King

The waxing moon and stars were not bright enough for Charlie to see everything. He did not see John being killed. Nor did he see John and the other man depart. Charlie didn't even know there had been another man, until he finally located him. The figure was headed straight towards the Waka Post.

When a figure appeared at the door, Amio stood up, his knife in his hand. A hand flicked the light switch. Activating the ceiling light. Amio saw Charlie King standing in the door a 1911 Colt in his hand. It was the last thing that Amio was to see. King shot without hesitation when he saw the knife.

Shawn Needham had found John in the alley after he received his payment. When he learned that Charlie had shot Amio in Florence's quarters he realized that he could simply blame it all on Amio.

"Amio had returned to the docks. John must have learned about it." Needham told Teuila. She didn't believe him. "Poor chap must have tracked him down, then got himself killed for his trouble. Didn't even have a chance to pull his Webley."

Teuila was sure this had something more to do with John following Needham. If it wasn't for the fact that Amio had the knife that had killed John. Doctor Bao had confirmed that the wounds had matched the blade. There was no evidence that Needham was involved.

"Flo has been announcing at night. So that I don't have to rely on prerecorded programs. She signs off at ten. When I saw the man heading towards the Waka Post I watched him and realized that he was headed to Flo's apartment." Charlie was at the Police Station. He was talking to Needham and Teuila in Needham's office. He didn't tell anyone why he was on the roof.

"Where did Amio come from." Needham asked King.

"Hard to tell. I was watching the moonlight reflecting off the ocean. You know it's like diamonds." King didn't lie about the beauty of the light reflecting off the ocean, just about watching it.

It was just flaky enough of an excuse that both Teuila and Needham seemed to believe it. That was the advantage of being the resident eccentric. People didn't expect you to use subterfuge. Charlie King didn't care for lies, since the truth was far more interesting. But, he did when it was necessary.

After a review of the laws, it was determined that a white man owning a gun was legal. Only native islanders couldn't own firearms. Despite a general ban of firearms on the island, that technical detail allowed Charlie King to keep his weapon at the moment. The World War II Colt semi-automatic wasn't an unusual weapon to find on the island considering the former occupation of the island by U.S. troops the weapons were prolific enough. Most found years later, in poor condition.

"Where did you get the gun?" Teuila asked.

"Brought it with me. Had it when I arrived. I bought it at a pawn shop before I came here." Charlie lied again. There were things about his life he didn't share. Not even with his friends.

"I understand that you were rejected for service." Needham didn't need to point it out. He just said it to throw King off balance.

"No, I was not able to go into combat. I was in the Army." Charlie didn't lie this time. He had held the rank of Major at the end of the war. "I may not have fought in a battle, held a rifle, or any of those exciting things, but I contributed what I could for the war effort."

Needham spit. Which was disrespectful not just to Charlie, but Charlie felt it was disrespectful to do it in front of Teuila. "Oh, I'm supposed to admire you for that."

"Maybe not admire, but respect me for it." Charlie replied.

"Most men served in the war in one capacity or another." Nash said. "I didn't go on the front lines to fight. I did. As a war correspondent I saw plenty of action while doing my duty. If you had to fight, you fought. Even if you never expected to do it."

Nash lived on the second story of his print shop that produced the Waka Post. He had converted most of the upper story into a nice apartment. It was easily the largest living area in town. A spacious living room, a dining room, full kitchen. A large bedroom, a guest bedroom, and a study.

Even the mattress was larger than usual. Nash had bought the supersized mattress and had to have a special headboard and footboard made for it. It had been worth it to Nash. It amused Teuila whose playful sexuality allowed for the full use of the bed. Right now they were resting from such playful endeavors.

"Did you do a lot of fighting?" Teuila asked.

Nash seldom talked about his experience in the war, accept for the boring duties of correspondent. Frustration with the government rules and restriction on war correspondence. Even though he admitted they were necessary.

"No. When I did I was scared as hell. I still remember the face of the first Jap I shot. It was the first person I ever killed. I didn't have time to think about it until after. You don't get over killing a man. Sometimes you feel sick. When you have time to consider what you had to do."

Nash fell quite after that. Teuila had interviewed Charlie King in the morning. He was his usual or unusual self. A little distant, somewhat amusing, but he didn't seem any different.

"People who kill hold their feelings in. Don't they?" Teuila said. "Like Charlie King did in the interview I had with him."

Teuila had told Nash about the interview. Hoping for some insight. She hadn't mentioned that Charlie hadn't been very emotional about it. As if he was more withdrawn than usual. Almost distracted.

"Some do. If you don't find a way to talk about it though. With friends, other soldiers, the chaplain. Someone. Well, I think it eats people up inside." Nash had seen it all too often. Men driven crazy by all of the things they were holding inside.

"Do you think that Charlie would talk about it? If he needed to. With someone he cares about, or with you." Teuila wondered if she shouldn't talk to Sefina about it.

"I'll go pay him a visit. I think I'm one of the closest friends Charlie has on the island. Although he might talk to Sefina, but I doubt it."