Michael P. Calligaro - Almost Murder

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Almost Murder

by Michael P Calligaro

David Panning stared out one of the chartered jet's little windows. Women and men in tasteful, yet

scanty clothing greeted the island's visitors as they deplaned. Behind the welcoming committee, lush

vegetation and wild flowers covered the land surrounding San Sangre Island's dormant volcano. Even

inside the plane, David could feel the South Pacific weather--seventy degrees with a slight offshore

breeze blowing through.

He grabbed his carryon and followed the line of rich tourists up the isle. "Seems a perfect day for a

homicide," he muttered. A fat woman in a diamond necklace fixed him with an angry glare. "Oh, yeah,

we're not supposed to talk about it." Weren't supposed to talk about it, no. But David couldn't get his

mind off of it. Strange and illicit thoughts had plagued him since he started his preliminary research for this

story. He did his best to keep these thoughts buried deep within him, where they could do no harm.

Unfortunately, he was too shallow a person to lose thoughts in. For the most part, he really only covered

them with a sarcastic wit and snide comments.

It came to the woman's turn to take the stairs. She turned a cold shoulder to David and painted on a

radiant smile for the island's inhabitants. David made a face at her retreating back. After the Senator

Tomconsen story, he'd sworn never to work with rich people again. But here he was, among the worst of

them. "You're the youngest journalist ever to get a Pulitzer," his editor had pleaded, "we need the best for

this one." But the depths to which he had been forced to sink to get Tomconsen had shown him just how

much he hated this line of work. Or was that how much he hated himself for possessing the ability to sink

to such depths? Why couldn't there be a vicious land war going on somewhere he could cover? Anything

but this.

Unlike the rich woman, David left his face a stolid neutral when his turn at the steps arrived. Among the

silk shirts and designer jeans of the other passengers, his cotton polo, comfortable slacks, and docksiders

looked out of place. He didn't care. No one would mistake him for one of these people, and that suited

him just fine. Besides, he couldn't imagine spending extra for his clothes just to get a fancy label. His jeans

said "Levi," and his shirt came from some unknown sweatshop in Hong Kong. He climbed down the

stairs where a woman whose breasts seemed intent on escaping their much too minimal confinement

placed a lei around his neck. She smiled as she leaned forward suggestively, and he did his best to ignore

her. The guests trudged off across the beach toward the check-in area. David dutifully followed. A

woman in scant clothing stretched to its limits and an Adonis-like, sculpted man in speedos greeted the

guests from behind the counter. They gave David a key, pointed him to his room, and assured him his

bags would be along soon.

The hotel sat nestled into the base of the volcano. David stopped at his room's patio and surveyed the

beach beyond. Men and women in varying degrees of undress frolicked in the water while others lay out

in the intense sun. "Pena's got a nice little island here," he muttered to himself. He held his key up to the

lock and the door opened silently.

The room was larger than his apartment back in New York. The bathroom contained a Jacuzzi large

enough to hold twenty people. David considered warming up in the morning by doing laps in it. The rest

of the suite was equally impressive. He hadn't realized they made beds larger than King size. And he'd

been to movie theaters with smaller screens than the room's TV.

A sliding glass door lead back out to the patio and the beach beyond. With a touch of a button thick

shades slid shut, obscuring the windows and leaving him in privacy. No windows adorned the opposite

wall, as that side of the hotel had been built into the base of the volcano. Colorful displays showing art

and other scenes covered the wall and David found he could set them to his liking--anything from still life

flowers to tasteless eroticism. He paused on the triple x scenes, then set the displays to empty white. The

wall's only other feature was a nondescript door with a simple lock and no peephole. He knew what this

was for but opened it anyway. A narrow, well lit tunnel lead down.

"So the guests can do their dirty business without the others knowing. How convenient."

Someone knocked on the outside door, and David hastily shut the inner one. He opened the shades to

find the bellhop waiting for him with his bags.

"Mr. Panning, Mr. Pena sends his greetings." The boy hung his luggage in the closet. "I trust that

everything is to your satisfaction?"

David shrugged. "Yeah, sure." He started fishing around in his pockets for a tip, but the bellboy held up

a hand.

"That will not be necessary, sir. We are amply rewarded for working here." David shrugged again.

"Now, please relax for a few hours. Mr. Pena would like to meet with you after dinner." With a nod, the

bellboy left.

He closed the shades again and sat down on the edge of the bed. He gave the little inner door a furtive

glance and quickly looked away. This whole air of disgust he'd wrapped around himself would have been

much more convincing if he wasn't so looking forward to what waited behind that door.

* * *

David paced back and forth across his room, the distance being such that this gave him a decent

workout. Dinner had been as extravagant as every other aspect of the island, but he had hardly noticed it.

He had not flown all the way down here to play in the sand with beautiful women or to sip champagne in

an Olympic sized Jacuzzi. His paper was paying an outrageous sum of money so he could get a story

about the place, and he wanted to get on that story. But Pena was taking his own sweet time about

starting their meeting.

The screens on the far wall switched to the face of a swarthy man. "Mr. Panning, how nice to meet you."

The man had no accent whatsoever.

David scowled at the face on the screens. "Meet me? This is hardly a meeting, Pena."

The man laughed. "How right you are. Won't you come join me?" The door opened. "Follow the tunnel

and turn left at the T."

After considering for a moment, David nodded and complied. He found Erik Pena in a room full of

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Michael P. Calligaro - Almost Murder

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