Cantina Episode number 84: Salty Deaths
Bandit rolled out of the sack on a dreary Wednesday morning. It rained for a week and the gray skies got to him. Everything felt dark, dower and depressing. The stack of bills on his motorcycle desk grew. One of his favorite girls, Mandy, quit and moved to Vegas.
Business slumped due partially to the constant rain, but there was something else. A guy was found dead, floating in a Marina a couple of weeks ago. Nothing seemed out of line, just another alcoholic who stumbled off his boat in a drunken stupor and slipped on the shaky wooden slat dock.
Obese, he couldn’t haul himself to safety and the poorly maintained docks contained no working safety ladders. He tried and clawed at the dock. He hollered, but the splashing water slapping against fiberglass hulls surrounding him muted his pleas. He finally tired, gave up and let go. Or maybe he hit his head during the fall and quietly sank to the bottom.
But just last night another call came into the Cantina and Marko relayed the news. Another dead live-aboard was found on his quality, well-maintained ketch. The docks were immediately teaming with cops, fire, and the coroner’s office staff.
Sin Wu took over the Chowder Barge recently and called Bandit. “Baby, can I come over?” she asked. “This place is a zoo and our customers bailed. Someone passed the rumor that it had something to do with my chowder.”
“Come over,” Bandit said. “I’ll have a stiff old fashion waiting for you.”
Sin arrived, an Asian queen gracing a grubby biker hangout in San Pedro. Her beauty and gliding countenance always caused the staff to stop and stare as she entered wearing a sleek silk, embroidered, form-fitting Chinese Cheongsam dress. And what a form! She seemed to slither across the thick wooden deck and up to Bandit’s office apartment at the top of the stairs, like a slender boa constrictor.
The staff, cemented in their positions, remained fixed on her every move, until she disappeared behind the door. Then every waitress and customer took a breath as if something blossomed before their very eyes.
Sin dropped her dress and was completely naked underneath. Bandit tore off his 5-Ball Racing sweatshirt and they embraced. Without a word, they hit his massive bed kissing deeply. They didn’t speak until their passion was released. Sin sat up in the bed and took a slug of the melting Old Fashioned drink. “What are we going to do?” she said. “My business is tanking.”
“Let me look into it,” Bandit replied and took a slug of Jack Daniels over shrinking ice cubes. “Do you have the investigating officer’s contact info?”
“Yes.” Sin was prepared and handed Bandit a card.
He cringed slightly. He didn’t like any contact with the authorities, and this turned out to be a woman.
“She’s hot,” Sin said. “Leave her alone.”
Bandit looked into her slanted dark eyes and one of his eyebrows raised slightly. She sneered back at him and crawled out of bed. She looked out a massive brass, ship’s hatch window at the gray harbor. “I don’t like this doom and gloom atmosphere,” Sin said.
“It won’t last,” Bandit said. “There’s always a warm spot here for you.”
“Means a lot,” Sin said, dressed and flowed out of his office and the Cantina as gracefully as she arrived, with an additional glow. Her driver opened the door to her all black sedan and bowed slightly as she slipped into the back seat. What was it about that woman?
Bandit dressed and picked up his cell phone and dialed the officer’s number.
“Lt. Mary Olsen.”
“This is the owner of Bandit’s Cantina,” Bandit said.
“I know about you,” Mary said abruptly. “Bandit, right?”
“Yeah, I would like to see anything you might have on the dead dudes in Wilmington Marinas,” Bandit said. “Is that possible?”
“I don’t have much,” May started, “but let’s get together where they were found. I need to speak to you anyway.”
Again, Bandit cringed. He didn’t like the sound of her tone. She had an edge, and the day seemed slightly grayer. “I can be at Leeward in 15,” Bandit said.
“I’ll see you on a chopper, right?” The officer snorted as if to indicate her vast knowledge of the criminal cantina owner.
“Yep,” Bandit said and hung up. He jumped on his chopper and rolled five miles into Wilmington. It was still overcast, and rain threatened, but he didn’t care. Nothing felt right and all he could do was to step into the fray and get to the bottom line.
This tall officer in a plain-clothes, gray sedan met him in the Leeward Bay Marina dusty parking lot. She stepped out of her sedan in a dull gray pinstriped suit made to form fit her tall voluptuous form and her blouse was open way too far down to reveal massive boobs.
She wasn’t bad looking, but her hair was wispy and thin. Her facial features were hard and angular, her lips pursed and obviously augmented. But her most distinctive aspect was her dour demeanor. No glow permeated her visual characteristics. She appeared downright mean.
Bandit approached almost 6 inches taller than her 5’7” inches. She wore 3-inch black leather professional pumps.
“If you don’t mind,” she said abruptly and turned Bandit to pat him down, which she handled professionally until her palm softened on his inner thigh.
Bandit turned back with a snap and a curt smile crossed her lips as she stood. “I didn’t get to your package,” she said.
Bandit’s emerald eyes bored into her dull brown eyes. “Let’s see what evidence you have,” he said with a snap. “I don’t have time for cop bullshit.”
“I’ll bet you don’t,” she smirked again, but it was one of disdain this time. “There isn’t much.”
What a piece of work, Bandit thought to himself as he followed her onto the dock.
“Here’s the first one.” Officer Mary said with an evil glint in her darting eyes. “This was Ralph Carson. He was found floating next to his boat; his walker was still in the cockpit of the boat.”
Sin Wu, the owner of the Chowder Barge, walked briskly down the shaky dock, jiggling in the trash-strewn salty brine. “He didn’t like using it,” she said abruptly and glared at the officer. They were about the same height. Bandit wondered what is was about women. They spotted a sexual adversary immediately.
“How he got the walker off the boat would be a miracle,” Sin added as Bandit eyed the rocking dock and access to the small sailboat. He noted the boat’s stern entry point, which forced the fat diabetic in his 70s to crawl over the stern just aft of the rusting winch. “He had to stretch is leg to reach over this foot-wide gap, between the dock and his fiberglass hull, then another foot over the sailboat’s narrow walkway, and then down two feet into the slippery cockpit, while holding the winch and maybe a mast stay.
“Mind if I go aboard?” Bandit asked. It all seemed to indicate a nasty accident, no foul play.
The officer didn’t respond to his question, while shifting her gaze to Sin Wu, and then back to Bandit, while he climbed awkwardly onboard. ?
“He was late 70s, poor health, obese and had swelling in his legs,” Mary said. “He was 5’ 6’” about 220 pounds, grey hair and balding.”
“He had incontinence issues but didn’t wear Depends, so he smelled.” Sin Wu sneered at Mary, in her way of dealing with folks she didn’t like.
Bandit scanned the cabin for clues while listening to the two cats snarl at each other on the dock.
“Did he smoke?” Bandit asked, picking up a butt off the damp deck of the boat. It was scattered with packed trash bags, pizza boxes and badly worn and rusting sailboat gear.
His boat smelled like a dirty head. He looked for anything to do with a struggle, violence, drugs, even alcohol. The whole notion for folks dying in any of about six LA Harbor marinas reflected directly on his business and the Chowder Barge. The Leeward Marina and Pacific Yacht Landing, managed by the Redhead, were leased from the port by one longtime owner. The leases were dwindling. In seven years, they could all be scooped up by the Port and turned into more ship’s docks. He knelt in the fiberglass cockpit and looked into the cabin.
“He struggled with depression,” Sin said, standing nearly toe to toe with the officer. Sin, a powerful and unforgiving Asian bristled, but it wasn’t a good fight to pick.
Mary, a cop, had the upper hand in many respects. Bandit noticed the broads’ big-titted nipples pointing almost directly at each other. Could this be a bi-sexual encounter in the making? The thought intrigued him.
“What about his finances?” Bandit asked, breaking the spell on the dock. He looked down the hatch into the interior of the 24-foot sloop. It was a mess and too small for a fat man, but he could see where two people sat across from one-another in the dinky space.
“I don’t know,” Mary shot back. “He’s fucking dead. What the hell is it to you?”
Sin turned her gaze to Bandit and winked. She knew the drill with these old guys. They may have been rich at one time, but maybe divorce or drinking got the best of them. As they neared their 60s, they found themselves reduced to living on perhaps a small sailboat. Everything else was gone, except maybe a storage locker jammed with useless shit from the past. All they had was enough to barely survive, but they managed to get drunk every day.
“Let’s move onto the next one,” Bandit said. “Need to see if there’s a connection.”
“No connections,” Mary spouted.
Bandit crawled off the small sloop, by pulling on the rigging and the faded lines holding the boat.
“The next boat is on its way to the crusher,” Sin Wu said and started to lead the way down another wobbly finger of the docks. “This guy Larry Bail, 78, died of natural causes,” she continued. “He had money, a nice boat and was a retired lawyer from high-dollar Rancho PV.”
Officer Mary fumed. Her gray business suit wrapped her too tight. “There is no file on this one, except the Coroner’s report,” Mary snapped. “He was another wharf drunk. I’m outta here to investigate gang and drug murders.”
“I’ll report in if I find anything you should be aware of,” Bandit said and turned to face her on the narrow dock. Her demeanor was all angry bitch. Bandit wondered if her nymphomaniac tendency had her on sexual desire over-load, but he had other priorities and Sin Wu could compete with any woman on the sexual prowess standard.
“Larry bought a crème soda every day on the Barge after his morning shower,” Sin said leading the way to Larry’s boat, ignoring the cop. “He had diabetes that led to heart disease. Died in his bed; he wasn’t found for seven-plus days. He ‘melted’ into the floor boards and bilge. Tall, white hair and beard, quiet, kind, thin, wore clean white sneakers every day.”
“Do you suspect something foul?” Bandit asked.
“You mean besides the smell?” Sin Wu replied. She smiled slightly, then frowned. “Something’s up.”
“Any new players in the area?” Bandit asked while studying the deck and cockpit of Larry’s ketch.
Sin turned towards Bandit and he sensed her longing and concern. She raised an eyebrow as stepped closer to him. “I’ll tell you, if you want to see the interior of my new trawler.”
Bandit touched the soft crème white of her back of her arm. “We can’t. We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“I think she wanted both of us,” Sin said. “That broad doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Bandit kissed her and held her close. She was conflicted and scared, unlike Sin’s usual sharp and sexy ways.
Bandit loved Sin and could have spent the day in bed with her, but something smelled. The darkness surrounding them was dense and gray. She had the face of an Asian angel and he cared for her deeply. “You were going to tell me about any new folks in the neighborhood,” he said.
“A couple of new outlaw club guys,” Sin Wu muttered and kissed Bandit’s cheek. “There’s also a new deal with the marina management. The owner had a small percentage partner for 40 years. He passed away and his two sons took over. You know how it goes.”
“Somebody is benefitting from the demise of the marina business?”
“Perhaps,” Sin Wu said as they strolled arm in arm to the dock housing the 40-foot ketch. “You’re right, we’ll all be out of business, if we don’t fix this quick.”
They made their way down Sin’s wobbling wooden finger to the main dock. Turning deeper into the gray marina a sense of doom engulfed Bandit again. He couldn’t figure it out as he moved along the main arm of the Leeward marina to another finger. Everywhere he looked the docks were in disrepair. The Port of Los Angeles wanted nothing to do with these private marinas. They needed more space to park containers and cargo.
A dense misty fog hung over the harbor and Bandit wondered whether Mercury was in retrograde. Sin cut down another shaky finger and Bandit noticed broken wooden slats, rusting water pipes and dangerously outdated electrical boxes.
Sin turned to Bandit as they approached a 40-foot Kelly Peterson, center cockpit ketch. “This is it,” she said. “I can’t go any closer. He was dead for a week before anyone checked on him. He was beginning to seep into the teak deck of the main cabin.”
Sin looked pale as she stared up into Bandit’s eyes. Her delicate skin seemed even more alabaster. Everything about the moment turned sullen, including the sounds on the water, the muted slapping of the sea against hulls, the foreboding angry noise of twisted stainless-steel stays smacking other rigging. Even the yawning creaking dock lines made Bandit’s skin crawl.
He looked deep into Sin’s dark eyes. “I’m not sure what to make of it,” he said as if a ghost in the fog lingered close by. “But I will make something of it damn soon.”
Sin kissed him quickly, hugged him and darted up the dock as if trying to escape the engulfing black plague, which spread over Europe in the 12th century killing half the population.
Bandit stepped onto the dock steps and onto the well-maintained craft but noticed a cigarette butt in the gunnel of the passageway. It was the filtered end and damp. Bandit picked it up and slipped it into his vest pocket. The boat’s center cockpit allowed access to the main salon and aft to the main captain’s cabin where Larry died.
It was unlocked and Bandit slipped below. It smelled badly of urine and he pulled his bandana and stuffed it over his mouth and nostrils. The thick teak deck was stained, but otherwise someone cleaned the area where the body was removed, but as he moved forward in the narrow passageway everything was a mess. Although the double-masted ketch was a fine, well-built vintage, nothing was in its place. Bandit searched the expensive boat lined with teak cabinets.
He took particular care in the head and the medicine cabinet. Boats and the sea contained many deadly pitfalls. Just an errant wake could shake a hull and cause a sailor to slip and hit his head against the edge of an unforgiving teak cabinet and end his life abruptly. An elderly gentleman with a disability would encounter dangerous straights simply trying to navigate his way around his life near the water. If he drank or did drugs, the risk level skyrocketed.
Bandit searched the dark teak cabinets for drugs, weapons or anything that might indicate foul play. As he began to depart the main salon, he noticed the galley was is serious disarray. Pots and pans were left with standing water and dried food. He started up the ladder and looked briefly into the navigation station. The condition of the interior and Sin’s description of the man didn’t match, but he kept digging.
He noticed one clean seat and then another on the edge of the salon at the end of the setae. Between the two was a small teak barrier and just enough space for a cocktail. There was a single shot glass knocked over and another on the nav station table where piles of unopened mail remained. Nothing particularly odd about this notion, except Bandit saw something similar on Ralph’s boat, two shot glasses and one overturned. He carefully gathered both into a plastic wrapper and stuffed them into his vest gun pocked.
He quickly made his way back to Ralph’s boat, but when he peered into the salon the shot glasses were gone. In a matter of an hour the dark marina dynamics quickly changed. As he stepped off Ralph’s boat onto the rickety dock, a sense of knowing engulfed him like the notion of a ghost again. Someone was watching him.
He wanted to reach out to Sin, in the Chowder barge, but he didn’t dare allow the mysterious stranger to know he suspected anything. Sin saw him walking up the main dock and stepped out of the Chowder Barge door onto the balcony and waved. Bandit attempted a mock smile and waved back as he started up the gangway toward his chopper in the parking lot.
Usually, a dense morning fog lifts as the sun rises, but this fog hung on like a cloud of unrelenting doom. The smell of death lingered in Bandit’s nostrils. As the tall man reached for the railing of the dock, he sensed foreboding, then movement. He took a step and heard the jingle of the two shot glasses in his vest. He glanced at the Leeward Bay Marina office on the dock adjacent to the ramp. When he arrived, a closed sign hung in the door window.
Now the door was ajar. He took another step up the ramp. The fog was too dense to even see his chopper in the parking lot. All of his senses were on high alert. Nothing felt right with the dock deaths. He didn’t want to leave Sin Wu behind in the Chowder Barge. His mind whirled with thoughts of the detective and how he could get the shot-glasses tested.
The air of doom surrounded him with sounds of miss-deeds, clanking anchor chains, creaking docks and a hissing sound like a rattlesnake in the desert.
As he reached the top of the severely slanting ramp during a low tide he looked into the murky brine on either side of the ramp. All the trash from downtown LA, 20 miles away, ran into the Dominguez Channel and into the sea, through the Leeward Bay Marina. The trash and oily grime were dense. In the dark gray mist, he looked hard at the swaying tide splashing gingerly at the moss-covered rocks.
Another body surfaced, covered in grime and seaweed and bumped against a jagged muscle covered piling. Bandit took another step toward the top of the ramp and could make out his chopper parked on the asphalt lot. Suddenly the hissing sound made sense. His rear tire was fading to flat.
“Not a good day for a nosey biker,” A voice so close he could sense the warmth of his breath. Then Bandit felt the barrel of an automatic pressed against his lower back.
Bandit turned abruptly and with his left hand pushed the barrel out of harm’s way and slapped the smaller man. He stumbled back, fired the gun and the shock caused him to drop it. He fell to the pavement but tried to recover quickly.
Out of the darkness behind the women’s restroom stepped Detective Mary. “I knew you were trouble,” she said to Bandit.
“No trouble,” Bandit said. “Just good investigative work.”
The younger man scrambled toward the pistol a few feet away on the dusty concrete. For the first time Bandit could access the man’s youthful age, his wealth by his clothes and jewelry and his work ethic by his clean soft hands.
“Who the fuck is this?” the detective spat.
“I knew you would rather fuck than investigate,” Bandit said, noticing her disheveled clothes. Another vehicle started behind the restroom building and peeled out to Henry Ford. Bandit could only hear it in the fog, but he rolled the dice. It was another cruiser, probably a married officer. He looked at Mary and raised an eyebrow. Mary glared back.
“I would bet it’s one of the two brothers who have inherited a small portion of this Marina,” Bandit said. “I’ll bet if you search him, he smokes a mentholated cigarette and has two shot glasses in one of his pockets.”
“I don’t smoke,” the young man with soft features said and reached for the gun, but something made a sound in his coat pocket, like bumping glass. Bandit kicked what looked like a brand new 9mm Glock away.
“But I do,” Another voice filtered through the fog. This time Bandit could hear the hammer of a revolver cock. “This is going to get messy,” the voice continued. “Get up Junior. Get your gun and get the Range Rover. We need to move fast.”
Junior scrambled to his feet grabbed his gun, stood and glared at Bandit. His eyes were blue and smug, a kid who never worked in his life. Mary, who was instructed to stand next to Bandit, lost her snotty composure. She never encountered the shoe on the other foot or a gun, pointed at her at close range. “What the..” she stammered.
“The rich boys were looking for a better deal with the majority partner,” Bandit said. “They thought they could force his hand and maybe extort from some of the older live-aboards. In fact, I believe there’s a third floater just below us.”
Detective Mary in her smart tight-fitting suit and mussed hair looked pale. The taller of the two brothers was obviously the leader wearing a nautical blue blazer with brass buttons, a pressed baby blue dress shirt with an open collar and khaki pants. A model ivy-leaguer he sneered at the two of them. He was a nasty, snake-like figure and Bandit knew what had to be done, but not how to pull it off.
Bandit ran in lots of rough circles during his life. He got so he could recognize a bully, a bad ass, the thief or someone who could kill without batting an eye. Learning what to do in each situation could be a major roll of the dice. “Do you think you can get away with any of this?” Bandit asked.
“Watch me, asshole,” The taller brother said and started to bear down on the trigger, as the Range Rover rounded the corner. Bandit stared at the young snake’s eyes and the moment he was distracted by his brother’s vehicle he abruptly pushed the detective whose professional pumps slipped in the gravel-like asphalt and she stumbled.
Just then another weapon went off and the snake’s eyes widened. He was hit. Sin Wu stood on her balcony holding a very old, 22 bolt-action Winchester in her arms. Bandit gave it to her several decades ago. Bandit stepped forward and with his left hand grabbed the pistol and yanked it from the Snake’s grasp.
Over the rise at the other end of the parking lot flew the Bandit’s Cantina Van. Marko cut off the Range Rover, which skidded to a stop.
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Frankie jumped out of one side, with Marko scrambling out the other side with a 45-automatic aimed at the shorter of the two brothers in the leather driver’s seat.
Sin Wu helped the detective to her feet. “Better call for backup,” Sin said and crushed her body against the voluptuous detective and licked her neck. “Next time you’re in the marina, come see me. I’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you,” Mary said stammering. “I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” Sin said as she turned and embraced Bandit. “How about some breakfast on the Barge for you and your crew?”
