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.
