A new Short Story

A new short Story.....

A Shirt from Paradise Blue

The sun began to change from a searing white globe to take on yellow and orange as it dipped towards the horizon. Two figures appeared in the distance walking along the wide, sandy beach without apparent purpose, occasionally stopping to examine something on the sand or to touch hands, to walk close together and then apart; a man and a woman. He, tall and dark, she shorter and blond, her hair cut short like a boy’s. They dressed alike in white shirts, khaki shorts and pale blue soft summer hats, shoes in hand. Chatting and laughing they approached. Suddenly the woman stopped, pointed and spoke urgently to her partner. She reached out and took his hand.

‘It is, look. It’s a pile of clothes and things,’ she said cautiously stepped forward, pulling him with her.

They stopped close enough to cast a shadow over the belongings.

‘So it is,’ he replied. They both looked around expecting to see someone on the beach or swimming in the surf. ‘There’re footprints in the sand, look,’ he said unclasping his hand and bending to examine the bare-foot prints.

‘Yes, leading away, along the beach. How curious?’ she said walking around the pile of clothes searching for some clue. ‘They haven’t been here long, look, there’s barely any wind-blown sand on them. Perhaps just a few hours.’

‘Well, there were no cars in the dunes car park when we arrived. I don’t remember seeing any prints in the sand as we walked. Why, you remarked that the beach was totally deserted’. He added, his voice revealing growing doubt. Tom liked things to be in the right place; he was a stickler for detail. ‘Look, here are some more footprints leading up from the sea.’

‘How very strange,’ she answered, looking over to Tom. ‘Should we look and see if there’s any identification, a wallet or something? I don’t suppose it’s the scene of a crime.’

‘We can’t very well not look,’ Tom replied and reached out to lift the hat, revealing black sunglasses, hiding in the shade. He picked them up. ‘Oakleys’. He put the hat on the sand and the glasses in the hat. He lifted the bright beach towel, shook it out and placed it on the sand next to the hat. He looked up along the beach and towards the surf for something, anything that might explain this collection of someone’s things.

Maria bent and picked up the shirt. ‘The shirt has a label From Paradise Blue. I’m sure it’s a man’s shirt.’ She held it up to flap in the wind, then thrust her nose into the garment. ‘Smells, clean.’

Tom picked up the khaki shorts and began to examine the pockets. ‘What have we here?’ he said withdrew his hand. ‘It’s a mobile phone, look.’ He held it up for her to see.

‘That’ll be helpful,’ she added.

He pressed the keypad several times but was unable to open the phone. ‘It’s out of juice!’
She moved closer to him. ‘Yes, but it’s a Nokia and it’ll have a serial number. I’m sure it’d be possible to trace the owner, don’t you think?’

‘Probably.’ He pocketed the phone and thrust his hand into the shorts again; he drew out a handful of loose change and some large denomination notes of local currency,. ‘Not much else here to give us any clues, just some change and hundreds of rupees. Curious that there’s no car keys.’

‘Look, there’s a pair of sandals, expensive.’ She stood with hands on hips. ‘What shall we do?’ Her voice had a tone of despair.

‘We could just leave; take the money and run,’ he suggested. ‘Whatever it is, it’s none of our business, besides the tide will be rising now and by the look of the tide marks, the sea will claim the stuff within the next few hours anyway’.

‘Are you serious? We can’t just walk away.’ She spoke, surprised at his response; her sense of fairness and justice coming to the fore. ‘If there’s anything we can do we must do it now. We’ll take all the stuff and give it to the police, let them sort it out.’

He looked at her, expecting her to see how complicated this could get. She stared back at him. He spoke carefully to make sure she understood his thoughts. ‘Do you realise how complicated this could turn out to be Maria. We could be implicated; accessories after the fact and all that. It’s best we turn and walk away.’

‘No. We can’t do that Tom. I’d never forgive myself if it turned out that some crime or tragedy took place. No, we should gather all this up and give it to the police. Tell them exactly what we found,’ her lips pursed and her eyes bright with determination.

For a moment they stood looking down at the abandoned possessions. The wind found the gap between them.

Maria began gathering the possessions with anxious glances at the advancing waves. Tom scoured the beach again in both directions shielding his eyes from the lowering sun. They set off the way they had come but with an ungainly haste, treading awkwardly in the soft hot sand, Maria clutching the abandoned clothes under her left arm, Tom a few paces behind.

At the hotel door, pairs of shoes lay scattered as if abandoned on the steps, like boats adrift at sea. Maria plonked the folded clothes on the reception desk, breathless from the exertion, pleased to release them from her grasp. The clerk appeared from the back office.

‘Namaste,’ she greeted the clerk. ‘We must speak to the police. Can you show us how to find the police station, or can you phone for a policeman to come to the hotel, urgently’, she asked tapping the sun-hat on the top of the pile of possessions.

‘Namaste,’ the clerk replied. ‘Sorry Madam, I no understand. You want talk to police?’

‘Yes, can you telephone the police and ask them to come?’ Maria’s anxiety was enough for the clerk to realise there was a problem.

‘One moment madam.’ The clerk excused himself and disappeared into the back room. Maria turned and looked at Tom who shrugged his shoulders. ‘You should know by now that you can’t hurry anything in this country’, he cautioned.

Maria turned back to the reception desk as the clerk returned wringing his hands nervously.

‘Madam, I call police. Wait, please sit,’ the clerk gestured to the bright red sofa behind her. ‘Please sit. You want chai?’

Maria waved her hand to dismiss the offer and gathered up the possessions.

They both sat awkwardly on the long sofa, hands on knees like naughty school children. Neither spoke. Tom took the mobile phone from his pocket, examined it then clutched it in both hands between his knees. He checked the wall clock above the stair against his wristwatch. The ceiling fan struggled to have an effect on the heavy heat in the room. They waited.

In the back room the excited commentary of a cricket match on TV interfered with the silence. Maria suddenly felt they should have taken off their shoes at the door.

A short round moustachioed man in khaki uniform approached the door, stopped, slid off his polished black shoes and entered the foyer. He took a white handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. The reception clerk gestured toward the couple on the sofa.

Maria stood up and offered her hand. ‘Namaste, thank you for coming. Can we go somewhere private?’ The policemen offered a limp hand without acknowledging the greeting or making eye-contact. Perhaps he wasn’t happy to be summoned in the heat of the afternoon.

A brief exchange between clerk and policeman concluded that the sofa was the only place to conduct business. Unless they went to their room, there was nowhere private to talk.

Keeping a respectful distance, the policemen lowered himself slowly on to the sofa. Maria turned to him and carefully related how they came upon the abandoned possessions on the beach. The policemen showed little interest until the Nokia phone was mentioned. Tom held up the phone. The policemen took it, examined it and put it in his breast pocket. He did the same with the money when Tom, with much fumbling, withdrew the cash from the pocket of his shorts.

The policeman stood up, spoke briefly in dialect to the clerk, turned and spoke with unexpected eloquence, to Tom. ‘This is a serious matter and I must act quickly. Time and tide seem to be against us, so to speak.’ He smiled weakly. ‘You have done the right thing calling the police. I will take the possessions and begin a formal enquiry. How long are you expecting to stay in our town?’

Tom looked at Maria then answered. ‘We have to leave in two days, we have made travel arrangements.’

‘Until then I know where to find you if there are questions.’ The policeman concluded and nodded at Tom. He bent to receive the abandoned items from Maria, lingering just long enough to make her conscious of her revealing open neck shirt. Tom stood up abruptly, his fists clenched; Maria immediately sensed his tension.

The policeman thanked them without offering his hand. He spoke gruffly to answer  a question from the clerk and left. The policemen located his black shoes from those others abandoned on the step, slipped them on and marched briskly up the street. Maria and Tom hurried away up the stairs to their room.

Once out of sight the policemen slowed. He slid into a narrow alley, stopped and drew a folded plastic shopping bag from his back trouser pocket. He quickly removed his khaki shirt, stuffed it in the bag with all the abandoned belongings, smiled to himself and stepped out. After some minutes, he turned into another alley and came to a small courtyard. He entered a narrow doorway and disappeared from sight.

In their hotel room, the ceiling fan whirred impatiently. They lay twisted and exhausted on the bed like bodies washed up on a beach.  

Maria expressed doubt about the outcome. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll hear anything from the police, do you? We’ll be gone by the time they make any progress, or I suppose until a body turns up. We did what we could after-all.’ She turned to Tom stretched out on the bed. She knew he was angry about something. ‘What else could we have done?’

‘You’re right. But we could have just walked away and left the stuff where we found it, like I said,’ he paused. ‘At least we got the lion’s share of the money, and the Oakleys.’

Maria gasped. ‘Tom, no. You didn’t!’

‘Oh yes I did. You didn’t think that was a policemen we spoke to, did you?’

If you have any comments, please let me know.