Ode to a Fish Sandwich (10 page)

His eyes bulged like those of the dead fish. “So you’d know we killed him. She and I, we took away your sailor.”

Rising to full height, he turned away from the counter to face the knife-wielding chef. His muscular hands balled into fists at the message a familiar voice had just whispered in his head.

“It was only fair. You killed Delilah.”

Winnie gripped the knife handle, seething with fury.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Their eyes met in a combined gaze of murderous rage—one that could lead only to mutual self-destruction.

~

AFTER WAITING FOR over an hour at his table by the beach, Dr. Jones wandered up to the diner’s front window, looking for his sandwich.

Surely, Winnie had finished cooking it by now, he thought, peeking over the counter. It was almost time for him to board the ferry.

The kitchen was empty. There was no sign of Winnie or the large fish he’d seen Burt lugging up from the shore.

But just inside the front window on the kitchen counter, he spied a paper plate with a pile of potato chips, a side of relish, and a freshly prepared fish sandwich.

The doctor glanced over his shoulder toward the ferry. The passengers were starting to load. With a shrug, he tucked a bill beneath one of Winnie’s plastic containers, grabbed the plate, and set off toward the dock.

Stopping halfway to the boat, he took a quick bite of the sandwich.

“Mmm. Delicious.”

~

MINUTES LATER, DR. JONES selected a bench in the ferry’s rooftop seating. He wedged his umbrella handle into the space between the seat and the armrest. Crouching in the umbrella’s shade, he finished off the sandwich and potato chips.

As the boat pulled out of the harbor, he turned to watch the island fade from view. He had just reached up to adjust the brim of his floppy hat—when he was overcome by a sudden reckless impulse.

The doctor knocked over the umbrella, sending the parasol tumbling across the seating area, and ripped off his hat. The sun baked down on his forehead, and the bright rays tickled his nose.

It was a glorious moment—that lasted less than thirty seconds.

Then, with a smile, he returned the hat to his head and re-deployed his umbrella.

*  *  *  *  *

NO ONE KNOWS for sure what happened to Winnie and Burt. They were never seen or heard from again after that morning.

The children were sent to live with relatives on the island to the north. Burt’s shack was rented to another fisherman; the two-bedroom cinderblock behind the grocery store remains boarded up, unoccupied.

Delilah’s Beachside Diner is no more. The little shack disappeared in the next storm. The islanders avoid that part of town, fearing the supernatural spirit that inhabits the area.

But every so often, someone reports seeing a tuna fin circling the shallow water near the remains of the boulder pile.

“AND THAT WAS my vacation,” the dermatologist concluded as he moved his magnifying glass to yet another large freckle on the author’s back. “I ended up having a great time after all.”

He added a notation to her medical chart, a meticulous record detailing each of her odd-shaped moles, and then looked up.

“You should take a trip to the Caribbean. I highly recommend it.”

The writer, who had been squirming in her hospital gown for the past twenty-five minutes, nodded her head, hoping that the exam was almost complete.

“Just wear plenty of sunscreen and keep yourself covered up as much as possible,” the doctor said, shifting his lens to yet another area of concern.

“Oh, and be sure to order the fish sandwich.”

REBECCA M. HALE lives in Western Colorado with her feline writing associates—when she’s not off researching future books set in San Francisco, the Caribbean, or wherever else her wandering spirit takes her.

The Mystery in the Islands Series:

ADRIFT ON ST. JOHN

AFOOT ON ST. CROIX

The Cats and Curios Series

HOW TO WASH A CAT

NINE LIVES LAST FOREVER

HOW TO MOON A CAT

HOW TO TAIL A CAT

HOW TO PAINT A CAT

Published by Green Vase Publishing

Text and cover copyright © 2013 Rebecca M. Hale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission.

ISBN: 978-0-9796344-1-3