Mike Jastrzebski - Key Lime Blues

“Thanks,” I said. “So let’s play it your way, will Gail follow your advice and stay in Key West for the next few days?”

“Of course. We go back a long way. Unlike you, she trusts my readings.”

“She told me one of your predictions led her to dancing.”

Elvis’s face looked pained. “Very unlikely, Mister Darling. I think it’s time to end our meeting. I hope you’ll consider what I told you. Dom, would you please show the gentleman out.”

“If I find out you’re lying to me about the diamonds, I’ll be back,” I said before turning and following Dom out of the room.

Dom stopped and I almost ran into him. “I was an unbeliever once-like you.”

“What changed your mind?”

Dom glanced over his shoulder. “My mama died two days before I graduated from high school,” he said. “We were very close and I was devastated. A friend of mine insisted I see Mister Elvis.”

Dom started back down the hall, talking softly as he walked. “Mister Elvis spoke to mama. He told me she was in a nice place, but she couldn’t be happy unless I kept my chin up, held my head high, and stopped being a crybaby.”

“That was kind of him,” I said. “And I’m glad he made you feel better, but did you speak to your mother?”

“No,” Dom said.

“Was anyone else there who spoke to your mother?”

“No.” Dom’s shoulders slumped a little and he added, “But he knew things only she could have told him.”

“It doesn’t prove he has psychic abilities,” I said. “There are ways to find out things. Most con men I’ve met exude sincerity and empathy. They can turn it on and off like a light bulb.”

Before I finished, Dom was shaking his head. He stopped at the door, turned to face me, and for a moment I thought he was going to cry. “You don’t understand, Mister Darling. Look at me. I’ve always been different. When I was a kid I was picked on a lot. When I’d come home crying, mama would sit me down and say to me, Dom, you can’t worry about what others think. You need to keep your chin up, your head high, and don’t let them see you being a crybaby. Mister Elvis knew mama’s exact words.”

“He got lucky,” I said.

“No sir,” Dom said. “There’s no way he could have known that without talking to her.”

There was no doubt in my mind Elvis had played on Dom’s feeling. It’s what psychics did. My first instinct was to go back and let Elvis know what I thought of his con. But nothing I said would change Dom’s mind, and I doubted he’d let me go back and talk to Elvis anyway.

I shrugged and said, “So you went to work as Elvis’s bodyguard because he said he talked to your mother?”

Dom opened the door for me and stepped outside so I could get by him. “I’m not his bodyguard,” he said. “I’m his computer geek. He pays me a fair wage and I keep his web site up and running. I’m damn good at it too.”

I had the distinct feeling Dom was disappointed in me. Well, he wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. I took a moment to let my eyes adjust to the sunlight, and started down the steps.

“Mister Darling.” Dom took a step and the entire porch vibrated.

I leaned my hip against the handrail. “Yes, Dom.”

“I know you don’t believe, but Mister Elvis is the real thing. He knew you were coming.”

“He had another client who told him I’d be here.”

“I don’t mean Miss Gail. He had one of his dreams.”

“Sorry, Dom, I don’t buy it.”

“You need to be careful, Mister Darling. Mister Elvis said people are going to die.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No sir. You’re not one of the ones gonna die.”

“Who is?”

Dom shook his head. “I don’t know. But I thought I should warn you.” Dom walked back into the house and closed the door before I could say anything else.

I’m not a believer in psychics, healers or UFO’s. I also don’t buy into the theory there was a second gunman in the Kennedy assassination or a national conspiracy to elect George W. Bush to the presidency. But I was a little spooked. If this was a con, it was pretty elaborate. And for the life of me, I couldn’t see how this whole Celine bit would benefit Elvis.

I kept reminding myself psychics were charlatans, but there was a little voice in the back of my head that kept asking, what if he’s not?

A million conflicting thoughts ran through my mind as I walked away from Elvis’s house. At least it seemed that way. I needed to find out who was lying to me, Destiny or Elvis? Which one had the diamonds? Even more important, how was I going to get my hands on them? I also couldn’t help but wonder if either of them was in any way responsible for Nick’s death, although I still leaned toward Frankie’s boys being the killers. I also found myself wondering if Elvis had dreamed of Celine’s ghost or if he’d made up the entire story. I shook my head and told myself I was I nuts for even considering the possibility he was for real.

I should have been paying more attention while I walked along Duval. Instead, I hung my head and studied the sidewalk, not paying attention to what was going on around me. A voice at my shoulder brought me out of my reverie and caused me to jump and spin around.

“Where you going, Wes?”

I took a deep breath and willed my heart to slow its rapid beat when I saw the smiling face of my friend, Brenda Fielding. She hugged me and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. I hadn’t seen much of her in the past month since her boyfriend, Randy, showed up in Key West and moved aboard her boat. I’d missed her company.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m trying to work out a few things in my mind.”

She let go of me and stepped back. “You looked so lost. You do realize a good sailor is supposed to react, not think.”

I laughed. “You’re looking good today.”

This caused the smile on her face to broaden. Brenda was a couple of years older than me and worked as a night shift nurse at the local hospital. She was wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, and as always she wore little makeup. The biggest change since the last time I’d seen her was that she had cut her hair short and changed the color from brown to blond.

Brenda was the first person I met when I pulled into the mooring field a couple of months earlier. The wind had been blowing a steady fifteen knots from the north, and although I was an experienced sailor, I’d never picked up a mooring ball before. Brenda was returning to her boat and when she saw the bind I was in she headed her dinghy over to where I was struggling. She helped tie the boat off and stayed for dinner. Over the next six weeks we spent almost all of our time together. Unfortunately for me, her ex-boyfriend came back into the picture and now we were just friends.

“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I suspect a shot of caffeine will work something loose for you.”

Glancing at my watch I saw it was a little past noon. “Sure.” I looked around. “Where’s Randy?”

“To make a long story short, he’s gone. But I’d rather not talk about him. The Bad Ass Coffee Company is up ahead. What do you say we head on over there?”

The building that housed the Bad Ass Coffee Company was larger than most of the Starbucks I’d visited over the years. It only took one visit to realize they were not a seat-of-the-pants independent shop. To place an order it was necessary to pass a gauntlet of shelves filled with logo caps, mugs and shirts. I’m sure the jackass logo appealed to many customers, but Brenda and I had no trouble resisting the merchandise as we walked up to the counter.

Brenda ordered some kind of a sweet sounding frozen drink with an exotic name and an inflated price. I ordered a cup of French Roast, black and strong. When I reached for my wallet Brenda pushed me aside and laid a credit card on the counter.