Don Bruns - Too Much Stuff

“Pray that Malhotra and O’Neill don’t show up in a boat at this hour.” Em closed her eyes as if in prayer.

Cupping my hands, I offered James the first chance to vault the fence. He cleared easily.

Em lifted me and I grabbed the top rail, awkwardly straddling, then jumping off the metal bar.

“You guys be really careful. Please.”

The moon was muted behind a thin layer of clouds as we walked softly across the dew-dampened grass.

“Over there.” James pointed to my shovel.

It was amazing that no one had checked up on our digging. They must have been used to having trespassers, those skinny dippers and the make-out artists. And apparently no one had ever done more than that-trespass. So no one was looking for trespassers who would dig the place up. It never occurred to them.

“You want to continue what you were doing yesterday morning?”

Picking up the shovel, I pushed it into the soft earth. There it was again. The sharp clink of metal on metal. It wasn’t a stone. It didn’t feel like concrete. I spaded out the sand, now digging deeper and out a little. I was about two feet into the soft sandy soil when I hit something else. This time it felt like a rock. Kneeling down, I buried my hand almost elbow deep.

“What do you have?”

“Concrete, James. It’s flat and smooth.”

“That’s what you hit? Well, at least we’ve discovered the foundation.”

“There’s something else. Just give me a minute.”

I thrust the blade into the ground and pried upward. Whatever the metal piece was, it gave just a little and I slipped the head of the shovel under an edge. Not enough to dislodge it, but it was a start.

“Got something?” He could sense it.

“Just hold tight.”

Prying, I felt it give a little more, still covered with too much earth.

“No sign of any boats, pard. And we haven’t heard a peep from our lookout. Keep digging.”

Shifting my position, I started wedging the shovel around the piece of metal. I could see it was small, maybe five by eight inches, and I pried again. It moved, and I was able to slip more of the shovel under the piece, carefully lifting it. Cradling it in the curved blade, I eased it out of the hole.

“A box. An old metal box.” James removed it from its steel bed, brushing away at the dirt that covered the top.

I tugged hard on the top of the box, but it was either locked or corroded shut. Maybe both.

“Is this it? The information?” I studied the object.

“We could dig some more. Personally, I think we’re damned lucky to have found anything, you know?”

I knew. It was a big area.

“Let’s kick some of this sand back in the hole.”

We smoothed over what we could in the dim light, then tossed the shovels up and over the fence on the south side. James started walking toward the fence that fronted the main street, on the west side.

“James,” I shouted in a throaty whisper. “Over here.”

Walking toward the Ocean Air Suites, I tried to visualize the exact path the boat passengers had taken.

“Trying to find the passage?”

“There’s got to be a gate here. It’s as simple as that.”

We ran our hands across the metal framework, and James found it first.

“It’s right here. No secret how they got out.”

A heavy metal padlock hung from the outside latch.

“May as well go over here.” He put the box under his arm as I boosted him and he jumped. Then I clawed my way up the fence, dropping onto the sandy beach below on the other side.

And there was James.

Between the guy with the diamond earring, and a third man dressed in a white shirt and gray slacks.

“I think I told you before that you were trespassing.” I saw the gun hanging by his side.

I was speechless. We were caught red-handed. We’d been here less than three days and already James had been taken to the sheriff’s office and it appeared that I would be next.

“I was-we were-looking for something that-” I had no story.

James stood there, his arms by his sides. No box.

Tell them the truth. It’s the best I could do.

“We were looking for the foundation of the old Coral Belle Hotel. It was on this property and we-”

“I know where it was.”

“Well, we were-”

The earring dude pushed his pistol into James’s side and shoved him toward the first building.

“Are you calling the cops on us because we were walking on your sand? Really? That’s it?”

As we moved, the guy in the white shirt and slacks finally spoke. “There aren’t going to be any cops involved. We’re taking care of this ourselves.”

That’s when we heard the motorcycle, the throbbing roar of a Harley engine, and saw the shadowy machine and its helmeted rider as they screeched into the parking lot of the Ocean Air Suites.

As the two men turned their heads in unison to see who had entered their space, I chopped at the gunman’s wrist. I don’t know why. I’m not a brave guy, but I sensed he wasn’t focused and I hit him hard on the wrist, my hand throbbing for the rest of the night.

He jerked and the gun went flying as he spun around, looking at me in confusion. James turned to him, and with the palm of his hand caught the guy under his chin, snapping his head back. He fell hard on the shell parking lot as his partner reached for my neck.

Hearing someone running behind me, I assumed the worst. I swung wide and hit the man who was choking me right in the middle of his face. Even in the dim early-morning light I could see the blood from his nose as it spattered his white shirt.

The footsteps stopped and I heard a voice that I recognized.

“Don’t anybody move. I’ve got the gun.”

Em stepped out of the shadows and leveled the gun at the gentleman in the now red-and-white shirt.

I let out a deep breath and backed away. She looked like she knew what she was doing, but you never knew.

“What the hell is going on?”

I turned and there was Maria.

“What are you doing here?”

Glancing at all of the players, she finally focused on me.

“Uh, you were checking on the old hotel, right? I couldn’t sleep so-”

“You came down to check on us,” I said.

“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly why I’m here.”

Em kept the gun trained on the guy with the bloody nose.

“Who are you?”

He scowled.

“No, I want an answer.”

“I’m Doctor James O’Neill.” A very frosty attitude. The guy wasn’t happy with us, that much was clear. “I own this property, and, young lady, you and your friends here are in a lot of trouble. When we call the police-”

Feeling slightly braver, I stepped up to him.

“You were the guy who said ‘no cops.’ You were going to handle this yourself.”

He wiped at his face, smearing the blood.

“So?”

“So it’s obvious you don’t want the cops involved. Maybe you’re doing something here you’d rather not have them look into.”

It was a shot in the dark, but he reacted by stepping back and raising one of his hands as if to say, “Stop.”

“What do you think you know, son?”

“I don’t know anything.” I didn’t want this guy coming after me ever again. “Look, Doctor O’Neill. All we did was walk on your property and you threatened us with a pistol. I think that any court of law would say that you were a little excessive with your proposed punishment. What were you thinking of doing? Shooting us? Pistol-whipping us?” I threw up my hands, emboldened by Em’s power of the gun.

“Can I get up?”

The guy with the diamond stud.

“No.” Her steely gaze never left O’Neill.

“So what are you going to do now?” The doctor returned her stare. “You see, this is what is known as a Mexican standoff. Neither of us wins. You walk away, we’ll walk away. And if you stay away from this property, we’ll forget your transgression. Is that an agreement?”