Terminal Island

Chapter Twenty

CUCKOO CLOCK



As Henry walks, most of the pain dissipates and he gradually realizes he is all right, though he will doubtless be a basket case by morning. He marvels at the insanity of it all, not sure if he is laughing or crying.

Charmed life, buddy, charmed life…

The euphoria doesn’t last long. Out of nowhere he has to stop and retch—there’s blood in it. The fear that had lain dormant throughout that whole experience now rises to the forefront: He could have been killed! Not just once, but several times! He should be dead now, dogmeat, a mangled corpse! And it’s not over—those people are not just going to let him go! And what of his family?

I gotta get back, he thinks, muttering aloud, “Gotta get back, gotta get back…”

Picking up the pace, he trots past the Casino and back into town. Hyperalert to any sign of pursuit, he is reassured to see no one, to hear no alarms being raised. The streets are peaceful and deserted. He debates screaming for help and decides to hold off creating any kind of spectacle until after he gets where he is going—he doesn’t want the delay of having to explain things to strangers, not yet.

As he mounts the Formosa Hotel’s front steps, Henry realizes he has been weeping about his mother, and tries to pull himself together. Sorry, Mom—I’m sorry. There is no one at the front desk, and he walks down the dim corridor to the back playroom.

“Hello?” he says anxiously. “Hello?” The door is locked and there is no sound from inside. He knocks, calling, “Moxie? Anybody home?” Ruby must have come and picked her up; Moxie would never be so quiet. When no one appears after a minute, Henry impatiently returns to the front counter and grabs the phone, punching 911.

“Police or fire department?” asks the male operator.

“Police.”

The line is switched. A new voice, husky and female: “Avalon Sheriff’s Department.”

It is the voice of that woman deputy—Deputy Myrtessa. Henry wavers. Even after all he’s been through, could they somehow pin this whole thing on him? Looking at the whole nightmare through her skeptical cop’s eyes, he realizes it could all be twisted to make him look like a crazy trespassing vandal. Especially if she’s in on it. Yes, don’t forget that.

Conflicted, cursing his own stupidity, Henry hangs up the phone and dials zero.

“City please?”

“Avalon, California.”

“How may I direct your call?”

“Please connect me to the Sand Crab Inn.”

“Yes, sir.” There is a switching sound and then a new, silky voice: “Sand Crab Inn.”

“I’m trying to reach one of your guests, a Mr. Carol Arbuthnot, but I don’t know his room number. It’s an emergency.”

“Arbuthnot…” The clerk checks. “Did you want me to ring his room?”

Henry feels a thrill of hope. “Yes, please.”

The phone rings and rings—no answer. Damn. Henry would have really liked to talk to that guy. He calls the operator back.

“City please?”

“Avalon. I need to reach the nearest FBI office. It’s an emergency.”

“Would that be the Federal Bureau of Investigation, sir?”

“The Federal Bureau of Investigation, yes.”

“Thank you.” There is the clicking of a keyboard. “There is no office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation listed for Avalon, but I can connect you with the FBI field offices on the mainland.”

“Please do that.”

“Which branch? There’s Woodland Hills, Fullerton, Azusa—”

“I don’t care. Whichever comes first.”

“Connecting…”

There is a click, then it rings. On the second ring an answering machine picks up and says, “In order to serve you better, your call is being recorded.” Then a perky girl’s voice comes on the line: “FBI,” she says. “Special Agent Shelly speaking.”

“Hello, yes, my name is Henry Cadmus, and I’d like to report an attempted murder on Catalina Island.”

“Ooh—murder. That’s a biggie. Have you reported this to the local authorities?”

Feeling a twinge of concern, Henry says, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they may be…implicated, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but can I speak to someone in authority? Your supervisor? I have reason to believe that my family and I may be in serious danger, and we need help out here now.”

“What sort of danger?”

Reining himself in, Henry says evenly, “There is…a major crime ring out here.” He doesn’t quite know how to put it. “Or a cult—some kind of criminal conspiracy to kill people and steal their identities. I have evidence that they may have already killed many people, including my own mother. They’re using their identities as fronts for all kinds of financial fraud.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. How did you come to learn about this?”

“I lost contact with my mother, and came to the island looking for her. My wife and I just stumbled across this whole thing. But now they know I know, and I’m very concerned about our safety. Us and our daughter.”

“Who’s they?”

“A lot of people, starting with the condo company, Shady Isle. But at least some of the local authorities must know about it, too.”

“Gotcha.” Agent Shelly seems to yawn and stretch. “Well, Mr. Cadmus, we’ll get right on it.”

Sensing that something is terribly wrong, Henry says, “You’re not the FBI.”

“What would lead to think that, sir?”

“Because this is bullshit! This is not a joke, God damn it! Who are you people?”

Henry realizes the line has gone dead. “Hello?” he says, jiggling it. He furiously debates trying again, then shakes his head and starts to go upstairs. It’ll have to wait. The phone rings behind him and he lunges for it: “Yes? Hello?”

There is an earsplitting voice, causing Henry to jerk his head away from the receiver—a deep, hideous gargle:

“ZAAAGRAAAYYYUUUS! EEEEAAAAAAKUUUUUUUS! EXTAAAASSSIIIIS!” It is so loud that it buzzes the speaker.

Henry claps down the phone, every nerve frayed. “What the f*ck,” he says. Heart pounding, he hurries up the stairs and pauses at the door of his room. There is a bright thread of sunlight spilling from the crack underneath, and as he unlocks the door and pushes through into the light, Henry says, “Honey? Ruby?”

They are gone. The room is empty, blinds rustling in the breeze of the open window.

Panicking, Henry checks the balcony, shouting, “Ruby! Moxie!” He shouts their names across the rooftops, his pulse hammering in the drowsy silence. He ducks back inside and goes out into the dark hallway, determined to find someone who can tell him something.

As he is heading for the stairs, eyes still dazzled by the sunlight, a pale figure looms out of the darkness, silently rushing down the carpet toward him, arms outstretched like a ghost. Henry almost jumps out of his skin.

“Henry? What’s wrong?”

It’s Ruby. She is wearing a terrycloth robe and holding her shower bag, wet hair twisted up in a towel on her head.

“Oh my God, honey,” Henry says, clutching her to him and burying his face in her damp, herbal-fragrant shoulder. “Oh thank God, thank God...”

“I was beginning to worry about you,” she says. “What happened? I almost called the police!”

They clasp for some time, Henry shuddering against her and finally catching his breath. “Where’s Moxie?” he gasps.

“She’s still with Janet. Jesus, you stink of gasoline.”

Half crazed, Henry explodes, “No, I was just down there! They’re gone!”

“Honey, shhh.” She gently covers his mouth, her eyes wide with concern. “Let me finish, okay? Like I was about to say, Janet asked me if she could take Moxie and the other kids for a spin around town in one of those electric trams—her family owns one. She had to take her mother home, and thought it would be a fun outing for them. It has a safety seat, so I figured why not? Moxie was begging to go. Is that a problem?” Ruby stares at him, freaked out by the state he’s in. “Oh my God, I knew it. What happened?”

“Get dressed. We have to get Moxie and get out of here.”

“Right now? You mean right this second?”

“Yeah.”

“But honey, why?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Hurry up and get ready, please.”

Ruby takes him in the room and shuts the door. “Hold on a sec,” she whispers fiercely. “We can’t go anywhere until Janet brings Moxie back. She said her mother lives somewhere on the other side of town—I’m not going on some wild goose chase looking for them. What if they come back and we’re not here? Take it easy, baby—Moxie’s all right, I promise; they’re super nice people. Tell me what this is all about.”

“But we don’t have time…”

Ruby scoffs, “I’m not leaving this hotel without my daughter.”

Henry very reluctantly lets her sit him on the edge of the bed. Giving in, he tries to steady himself, to relate to his wife what happened as clearly and succinctly as he can. The problem is, as he talks he can feel the inertia of Ruby’s matter-of-fact normalcy dragging like an anchor against his story, undermining the whole mass-murder conspiracy concept and making it seem like the ravings of a lunatic. It doesn’t help that he’s gibbering like one.

Maybe it’s shock, or that he hardly can believe the whole insane business himself, but as he comes to the climax Henry finds himself losing steam, letting the words just peter out:

“—so those two sleazebags we saw at the Casino showed up and…and I stole their ATV, and this other guy was siccing all these dogs on me so I had to get out of there. They had me boxed in—the only way out was to crash the ATV against the railing and kind of…catapult myself out over the water, like this. And that’s when I came back here.”

“You wrecked their ATV?”

“Goddamn it, didn’t you hear what I said? They were trying to kill me!”

“But honey…I mean, first of all you’re in there illegally, then you trash the place? It’s no wonder they were mad, but that doesn’t mean they were trying to kill you—”

“Oh my God. Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Yes,” she says firmly, putting her hand on his arm and fixing her big, sincere eyes on his. “I have. And I believe you’ve obviously had a real scare—it was a close call, okay? I’m here for you one-hundred percent, baby. It’s just hard for me to believe there isn’t a more…reasonable explanation for all of this.”

“Jesus.”

“Henry. Is it so impossible that in the heat of the moment you let your imagination run a little wild? Hear me out—you know you have major issues with this place; I’ve been listening to you for days. You’re a little paranoid, okay? Maybe it’s a post-traumatic stress thing, like you had before. I don’t blame you for it, but can’t you see how easily that can put a sinister spin on stuff that is just ordinary bureaucratic bullshit?”

“This was more than that. Those files—”

“Yeah, so they were keeping their tenant records locked up in an unfinished building. So what? Maybe they’re working on their filing system.”

“Those were more than just tenant records. And the whole place is empty, didn’t you hear me? I’m telling you, it’s all fake!”

“Honey, I’m here for you, I’m listening and trying to be supportive, but…I don’t see how you can be sure of that. Did you check every building? I mean, come on, did you? And even if it was empty, what does that prove? Places close for a lot of reasons: renovations, fumigation, who knows? Maybe they had termites. Just try to look at it from my point of view.” She sighs, shaking her head. “It’s my fault—I knew I shouldn’t have let you go in there alone. Damn it! Now who knows what’s going to happen—at the very least they’ll probably make us pay for the damages. We’re screwed. We’ll have to pay for a lawyer…shit, this is all we need right now.” She turns her face away from him, starting to cry.

Henry doesn’t know what to say, he wants so badly for her to be right. Suddenly he jumps up, shouting, “Holy shit! I can prove it!” He flings the day-bag off his back and tears open the zipper. “I did what you said—I filmed the whole thing!” But the camera comes out dripping and smashed, as he should have known it would. Defeated, Henry says, “I’m…sorry. But I swear to you it’s the truth.”

Handling the wreckage of her expensive camera, Ruby says, “No, I agree with you about one thing: We have to get you the hell out of here as soon as possible, the minute they bring Moxie back. I don’t want you here another minute. If we can sneak off this island scot-free it’ll be a miracle.”

Relieved, Henry nods, not saying anything to jinx it.

They set about packing their things. “Just what we can carry in our day-bags,” Ruby says. “Leave the rest; I don’t even care.” Henry doesn’t argue.

When they are finished, they sit and wait, anxious and jumpy.

“How long have they been gone now?” Henry asks.

“I don’t know. Less than an hour. Those trams are slow.”

“Okay.”

“Now you’ve got me all worried. Maybe we should wait downstairs in case they try to call.”

“Okay.”

They shoulder their rucksacks and go down to the lobby, sitting on a spindly wicker bench and leafing through island maps and brochures: Inland Safari! The Isthmus—Holiday at Two Harbors!

After a few minutes, Ruby says, “You know what? I’ve got that card with her home phone number. I’m gonna just call.”

Yes! For God’s sake, call! “Good idea,” Henry says.

She gets up and tries the phone at the front desk, dialing several times. To quell Henry’s anxious look, she explains, “Line’s busy.” After a few more attempts, she says with studied calm, “They must have it off the hook,” and sits down.

Henry is vigilant to any sound from outside—the telltale electric hum of a tram, or a baby crying—but there is nothing. Just the swish of the breeze through the entrance. Every few minutes, Ruby tries the phone again, to no use. “How can they leave the hotel unattended like this?” she says, temper flaring. A dusty cuckoo-clock made of seashells and with a caption reading Life’s a beach chimes three o’clock—another hour has gone by.

Henry stands up. “I can’t sit here anymore.”

Ruby nods, resigned. “I know. What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to see if I can find them…or at least somebody who can help us.”

“You mean the police? Maybe I should call them.”

“No, not the police. Could I have some of that Motrin?”

“Sure.” She hands him the bottle and he takes a few, swallowing them dry. “Are you gonna be okay?” she asks.

He nods, choking a little on the pills, says, “If I don’t find out something right away, I’ll go to the police myself and lay it all out—it’s ridiculous for us to be huddling in fear like this. I’ve had enough of this crap. Whatever happens, happens, okay?”

“Okay. I wish I could go with you, but they might come back any second.”

“No, one of us should definitely stay here. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Henry kisses her and they hold tight, then he goes out to the street.