Cannibal Caper

Cannibal

Caper

Johnny Mack Hood

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© 2012 Johnny Mack Hood. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 3/5/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5732-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5731-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5770-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012903479

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CHAPTER 1

The Shelbys, not surprisingly, had further harrowing experiences following their adventures aboard the MS Alexander Nevsky , now lying at a depth of five thousand feet just north of New Zealand. It is necessary to depart from the usual format in order to establish the peculiar circumstances that prevailed following their decision to leave the lovely country of New Zealand. They may have thought that they left that country behind and may have regretted their decision to cut the visit short but a small part of New Zealand did catch up with them.

Jeremiah Cuthbert Shelby and his charming and intelligent wife, Susan Beck Shelby, achieved a degree of noteworthiness through their almost accidental amateur detective efforts. First it was the gruesome discovery of the body in the school library at Avon College in Iowa and their clever solution to the crime. Susan was working as a part time librarian at Avon when her foray into college work of an undisclosed nature was pleasantly interrupted by the attentions of JC and the ensuing murderous circumstances. This was quickly followed by love and marriage, rudely interrupted by a body in the kitchen of the B&B they had selected for their honeymoon abode in London. Susan at least was now very much into her detective mode, being an avid fan of old black and white movies of the Thin Man series where Nick and Nora Charles seem unable to fail to catch the bad guy every time. It turned out to be a dangerous business for Susan faintly reminiscent of the Perils of Pauline. Somehow the U.S. Navy got wind of their exploits and JC, an ex-seasick sailor, was mustered back into the Navy, given a commission and shipped off to Pearl Harbor with his wife to look into the gruesome murder of a gardener in the Fleet Admiral’s garden.

How they got aboard the ill-fated Russian cruise ship is another story involving the Fleet Admiral, the Cold War, and a genial Russian seadog, an unlikely comrade of the admiral’s on the other side of the international fence in the bad old days.

Fortunately the reader will be spared the confusion of Russian patronymic use in this story. The Russians have all gone home to attend to other matters. Instead names like Wajjakkairakankannange may occur from time to time.

The birth certificates have never been made available but it appears that these intrepid adventurers are probably in their mid-twenties. JC is just over six feet, dark hair, blue eyes and considered to be very handsome – at least Susan believes so - and Susan is about five eight, brown hair and quite pretty, although not possessed of a raving model style beauty. JC certainly has no complaints. JC is from the West Coast and Susan from Chicago. His college studies in forensic science are at present incomplete although he holds an honorary degree as reward for his fine detective work at Avon. Occasionally JC’s back gives him trouble. His seasick propensity resulted in a fall aboard a Navy cruiser during his short initial stint as an enlisted sailor. He spent quite a long time at Pearl as a typist in the Judge Advocate General’s office. That’s where he acquired a taste for crime – solving them, that is.

Our story opens with the arrival of the Shelbys at the International Airport at Nadi, Fiji. The sound of an ‘n’ precedes the ‘d’ in the Fijian language, thus Nadi is pronounced ‘Nandi.’ Most international travelers know this, of course. The island of Viti Levu is the principal Island of the Fijian chain, which consists of several hundred islands. Viti Levu, the seat of the capital of this independent country, is of a comparable size to the Big Island in Hawaii and is likewise of volcanic origin. It is wetter, however, and more jungley and, although of volcanic origin, is not dominated by the gigantic cones such as those on Hawaii. Fijians were under the domination of the Dutch and the English for a period but they are now fiercely independent and proud of their 3500-year history.

Oh yes - the Fiji Islands were once known as ‘The Cannibal Isles.’ That is all behind them now – hopefully.

The Shelby’s initial intent was to vacation for a couple of weeks and then proceed on to Hawaii to report to their boss, Admiral Gonzales at Pearl Harbor. They hadn’t the foggiest idea what they might next be assigned there. JC is not really into the Navy that much and has not had any real officer training. His field rank as full lieutenant was bestowed simply on the strength of his sleuthing ability.

The Shelbys rode a shuttle bus from the large and very modern airport to their digs at a gorgeous beach resort, The Starfish Beach Hotel and Resort, near the town of Lautoka, a sugar-refining center. Even Hawaii cannot compete with the unspoiled pristine beauty of this tropical paradise. The waving palms, the blindingly white sands and the crystal blue water breaking gently on the beach are breathtaking to the eye. What could possibly disturb this wonderful tranquility? –

CHAPTER 2

JC and Susan stepped down from the shuttle and went to the back of the vehicle to retrieve their bags. The driver was just setting them out on the driveway. They didn’t have much. Most of their clothes had gone down with the MS Alexander Nevsky . Their decision was to buy clothes in Hawaii when they got there. The last minute option to take a short break here in Fiji meant that they would have to do a little shopping locally. That could wait a day or two. The first order of business was to soak up a little of this entirely new place.

Susan retrieved her small bag and peered toward the large opening that gave entrance into the hotel. Look, JC, you can see the beach and the ocean right through the hotel. It is just fabulous. I want to stay here forever.

JC laughed. Susan had a penchant for exaggeration. Sweetheart, we will stay as long as you like but I know you. You will be antsy before long and looking for adventure.

Susan and JC’s short conversation was interrupted by the intrusion of a hotel bellboy grinning and reaching for their bags. JC noted he was a fairly dark skinned fellow with a lot of very curly black hair. His hotel uniform was a natty looking white linen affair of a tailored jacket and well creased short trousers.

The bellhop started for the cavernous opening into the building calling out over his shoulder, This way, we check in at the desk. They hurried after him and entered the expansive lobby. It was open front and back to the delightfully soft tropical breezes with the reception desk along the wall at the right. Scattered conversation nooks sporting low coffee tables, lamps, and comfortable looking armchairs and sofas occupied the rest of the space. There was a concierge desk on the left side of the room manned by a brown skinned man with slicked down black hair. A counter along the same wall was where newspapers, magazines, candy, and tobacco were on sale. The concierge was obviously not an ethnic Fijian by his appearance. They had read that the population was about 60 percent ethnic Fijian and 40 percent Indo-Fijian. Back in the bad old British Empire days the Brits had imported Indian labor to man the fields devoted to sugar cane and other agricultural products. There had been a number of coups with the native Melanesian population trying to make sure that they kept control of the political reins at all costs. None of this unrest had had a substantial effect on tourism. It was just too nice a place to visit for people to stay away long.

The Shelbys stood at the desk waiting for the clerk to finish his business with another guest, a woman, an American apparently from her accent. She seemed to be in a state of pique. The desk clerk was a small man of Indian descent who spoke with the distinctive clipped and rising lilt that revealed his Indian background.

The woman’s voice could be heard easily throughout the lobby. What have you done with him? What have you done with my husband?

I am sorry madam. I have not done anything with him. He was obviously in distress trying to deal with this lady.

Where is Mr. T? I demand to know.

I am so sorry Madam. We will make an effort to find him. He turned to the bellboy who was standing by with a slightly bemused look on his face. The discussion must have started some time earlier between this woman and what turned out to be the hotel manager, Mr. Soni. Timi, will you please tell the phone operator to make a general announcement. Have them ask – again - for Mr. Throttlebottom to come to the front desk. He gave a great sigh and rolled his eyes.

The woman was not amused – or pleased. Mr. Soni, we have been through this before. He is not here. I have looked everywhere. He is just not here. You have hidden him away somehow. I hear this is a very mysterious place and strange things can happen.

Mr. Soni was trying to keep his cool. Madam, it is a very beautiful place but not so mysterious. Many people come here from every place. We have never misplaced anyone before.

Ah Ha! said the women who was obviously Mrs. T. You admit it. You could have misplaced him.

Mr. Soni was becoming more and more nervous and seriously confused. No Madam, I did not mean that. I meant that it is very unlikely that he has been misplaced.

Unlikely, but not impossible, said Mrs. T grimly with dire emphasis. The woman obviously felt she was winning this argument, but to what purpose was not a bit clear.

JC and Susan gave each other looks and began to shake their heads. This episode was becoming an impossible mix of tragedy and high comedy. Timi had gone off to the alcove where the phone operator held forth to deliver the order, and the lobby suddenly came alive with the sound of the announcement booming out of wall mounted speakers: Would Mr. Throttlebottom please come to the front desk. There is a message from your wife.

The wife was livid. In a loud voice she proclaimed. "There is NOT a message from your wife. There IS your wife herself – here at the front desk." She then began to sob uncontrollably.

Susan decided it was time for an intervention. She stepped up to her and touched her on the shoulder, Mrs. – uh – Throttlebottom. Please come over and sit down maybe I can help.

Mrs. Throttlebottom, whose first name it turned out was Emma, was persuaded to follow Susan across the lobby to a secluded sofa and low table. JC stepped up to the desk and proceeded with their check in. Mr. Soni said nothing but presented a form for JC to fill in and took an impression of the credit card. JC could see the beads of sweat rolling down his face. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor man.

As he was being handed his room keys he asked, What seems to be the problem?

Mr. Soni arched his eyebrows into an inverted ‘v’ in distress, It seems Mr. Throttlebottom has wandered off. We have had most of the hotel staff looking for him. No luck so far.

When did this occur? asked JC.

We don’t exactly know. He must have gone out for a walk last night – it was very pleasant – and simply did not come back – according to Mrs. T.

JC frowned, Did you notify the police?

Oh yes. The police will be here – they have made some inquiries but haven’t a clue at the moment. Mr. Soni began to moan and looking down started fumbling with some papers on the low shelf below the counter. Oh dear, what shall I do? The owners will be very angry. We have never lost a guest before.

Across the lobby JC could see that Susan had engaged Emma Throttlebottom in an animated conversation. She seemed to be making some progress in assuaging her distress. JC thought it best to leave them at it while he got their things to the room. He turned to the counter, held out the duplicate room key and asked Mr. Soni to see that his wife got it after she had finished talking to Mrs. T.

The room was elegant. It looked out onto the beach. He could see that he and Susan were going to have a very pleasant and restful holiday before going back to an uncertain future in Hawaii. At least that was his thought at the moment. Why did he have an uneasy feeling about all this? When Susan got involved things tended to not be so restful.

CHAPTER 3

Susan did not show up for over an hour. By that time JC was certain that a restful holiday was not a reasonable prospect. He had to admit he was rather looking forward to the story that she would surely have to tell. He was not disappointed.

Susan eventually came through the door, into the room, and peeked out the sliding door onto the lanai where JC was lounging in a chaise. He did not spring to his feet in eager anticipation but waited for her to make her move. He loved to tease her now and then when she was about to join the heat of the hunt in some new mystery.

She finally poked her head out and remarked somewhat crossly, You do want to know the story, don’t you?

JC laughed out loud, Get out here and get started. I’ll order us a tropical drink. I know it is not going to be a short tale.

Susan got herself settled while JC hailed a waiter on the large terrace below their lanai for some service.

I’m afraid this is going to be a long story and maybe not too believable, she began.

JC chuckled, I’ll believe anything you say. You know I love you and couldn’t do otherwise. Have at it. I’m all ears.

I love your ears sweetheart – big or not. Then she began, "Well, the Throttlebottoms have had quite a life. Poor Mr. Throttlebottom – Mr. T, as he is