Don Bruns: Too Much Stuff

James frowned. “Yeah. What about it?”

She pulled up a chair and sat down. Maybe thirty-five, and very interesting. Very expressive eyes, dark, probably Italian, but you could never tell and-

“I’m Maria Sanko. I’m a realtor.”

We both nodded. Women inviting themselves to our table was not something that happened on a regular basis.

“I was having lunch in the other room,” she pointed to the main dining room, “and I got a text.”

I could tell from James’s puzzled look that neither of us had a clue where this was going.

“I manage a number of rental properties in the Islamorada area, and occasionally I get an emergency.”

“Okay.” I was impatient. The lady dragged the story on, just like Mary Trueblood.

“There’s a major leak at one of my apartments, and I saw your truck-”

Shit. The Smith Brothers Plumbing sign.

“We don’t … we can’t …” James was stumbling. He’d turned pale, and I was concerned he was going to trip over his tongue.

“It’s not far from here, and my tenant is really concerned. If you two could just follow me to-”

“I am sorry. What my friend is trying to tell you is that we’re on vacation.”

“Really, it won’t take long. And I’ll pay you whatever you say. I really need some help, guys.”

“No, no. We left our tools back in Miami. There is nothing we could do. The truck is empty.”

James’s color returned. “Yeah. Tools are back in Miami. We’re sorry.”

The lady gave us a suspicious look, as she probably should have.

“Okay.” She reached into her purse, pulling out a white business card. “If you are ever interested in moving down here, call me. I could use a good plumber. Not just now, but about every other day. And the guys down here, the guys who call themselves plumbers, they’re working on island time.”

“Next time, for sure. It’s just that right now, we’re not prepared.” James flashed her a shaky lady-killer smile.

She stood up and walked away.

“You didn’t want people to know we were investigators so you had the plumbing signs made.”

“Yeah?”

“We could be called Smith Brothers Hauling. We could do that. Haul stuff. Or, like I told you, you could have just gone signless. Now, we stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, a plumbing truck with no tools and no plumbers.”

“Yeah. I get your point.”

“You know, James, sometimes your answer to a problem just causes more problems.”

Little did I know how prophetic that statement would be.

James drove back to Pelican Cove, the magnetic Smith Brothers Plumbing signs now thrown in the back of the truck.

“Now we’re just a white box truck with a splash of black paint on the side.”

He was upset that our humble transportation now bore a scar. I didn’t care so much about the scar, but I was happy we weren’t plumbers any longer.

“Now no one will ask us to do them any favors.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Signs? We didn’t need no stinkin’ signs.

“Dude, I wonder how much she would have paid us.”

A question that had no answer. We had no talents in plumbing. Hell, we had no talents, period. I’m reminded of that from time to time.

“I think we could have made some serious jack, you know? She said to charge whatever we wanted. Who knows? Maybe we could have made enough on the side to get two rooms instead of one.”

Oftentimes, I couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth. “James, it makes no difference.” Sometimes I seriously think he’s clueless. “Neither of us knows the first thing about plumbing.”

“I can use a toilet plunger.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I thought of something you said back at the Turtle. Something you said about the gold and it got me thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“You said finding the gold was the most important thing.”

“I did.” But I’d agreed that if we found the missing detectives, it could mean our job was a whole lot easier.

“First of all, I still think we need to find those two detectives. Their disappearance is way too strange.”

I nodded my head in agreement.

“But you said finding the gold was the first priority. I already told you, I think if we find these two Miami hotshots we find the gold, but-”

“But what?”

“The lady. Maria Sanko.”

“What about her? She’s got a leaky pipe and no one to help her.” It actually sounded dirty.

James chuckled. “Skip, she’s a real estate lady.”

“Yeah?”

“She knows about property and stuff.”

James was doing the same thing, dragging the story on, like I was supposed to pick up on every-

“Ah.” It hit me. “A real estate person just might know where older properties were located. Right?”

“Right, amigo. This lady might be able to tell us where the Coral Belle hotel used to be.”

Sometimes he hit a home run. Not that often, but-

“James, that’s a great idea. You’ve got her card. Let’s call her.”

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the card. He flipped it to me as he drove north.

I dialed the number on my cell phone, worrying about how many minutes this would eat up. She answered on the second ring.

“Maria Sanko, Sanko Properties. How can I help you?”

“Miss, Mrs.-”

“Please, call me Maria.”

“Okay. Maria, this is Skip Moore. You approached my friend and me in The Green Turtle about a plumbing problem?”

“Oh, thank you for calling. You’re too late though. I found Jimmy Sheldon at home and he-”

“No, no. It’s not about that. James, my partner, well, the two of us wondered how much you know about the history of property here in Islamorada. You know, where buildings were back in the thirties? Stuff like that.”

“I’ve lived here all my life. Of course, I wasn’t around in the thirties-”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t mean to infer that you were old or-”

She laughed. “I’m older than you are, but not that old.”

If the lady was over thirty-five, I’d be very surprised.

“Well, we have some questions and wondered if you’d agree to sit down with us and maybe fill us in a little bit?”

“Sure.”

Just like that.

“Well, would there be a charge?”

“Are you thinking about coming down here? On a permanent basis?”

I could detect amusement in her voice.

“Do you mean like setting up shop here in the Keys?”

I thought James was going to run off the road.

“Sure. We’re considering it.”

I watched him mouth the words, “Are you crazy?”

“Then I’d be giving you some history of the Key in a professional sense. Giving you reasons to move your plumbing business down here.”

“Yeah. You would.”

“Plumbing is your business, right?”

Clearing my throat, I stared out the window at the collection of stucco strip malls running by the ocean. My business was selling security systems to people who didn’t have anything to secure. James’s business was being a line cook at a fast-food restaurant. We were pretenders, pure and simple. As detectives and most certainly as plumbers. What were we thinking?

“Sure. That’s our business.” I wasn’t sure what our business was anymore. And I suppose we were as well equipped to be plumbers as we were to be private investigators. What she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt us. Could it?

“Okay, where do you want to meet?”

“We’re staying at Pelican Cove Resort.”

“I know exactly where that is. Right next to Holiday Isle. And Holiday Isle has three great bars.”

Our kind of lady.

“Well, why don’t we meet at the pool bar at Pelican Cove? We can start there and see if-”