Cold Storage

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By Pamela Ebel

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Sheepshead Bay, California

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August 21, 2016

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           Rose Galinda looked out the window as a black pickup truck pulled into the Sherrif’s Office Parking lot. She didn’t recognize it or the man that got out and came in.

          “Good morning, Sir. Can I help you?”

          “Yeah. I’m looking for someone and I thought you might know where I can find him. Is the sheriff in?”

           “No. Sheriff Ramsey is down at the fairgrounds helping them set up for the rodeo. It starts today.”

           “Why would you have a rodeo on an island where there is only water and fish camps?”

           “Oh, not that type. This is the 47th Annual Sheepshead Bay Deep Sea Fishing Rodeo. I guess you aren’t here to fish though.”

          “No. How do I get to the fairgrounds?”

           “If you’ll tell me who you’re looking for I might be able to save you the trip.”

          “Look, I just want to talk with the sheriff. Are you gonna tell me where he is or not?”

         “The grounds are straight down the road here. When you get to the water tower, you’ll see them on the right.”

          Rose went to the window and wrote down the truck’s license plate number as the man pulled out of the lot. Watching him go she picked up her cell phone.

          “Hey Rose, what’s up?”

          “Tate there’s a stranger coming your way. He stopped here and said he was looking for someone but wouldn’t tell me who. I just have a feeling something is off about him.”

         “A woman’s intuition at work Rose?”

         She sighed.

        “No Tate. A policewoman’s intuition. He’s driving a black Ford pickup. I wrote down the license number. It’s a Nevada plate.”

        “Okay Rose. Sorry for the bad joke. Run the plate and call me back. I see our mysterious visitor pulling up now.”

        Tate Ramsey watched the man get out of the truck and look around. He was tall, thin, sallow skinned and dressed in ill-fitting clothes.

        Since Tate wasn’t in uniform, he was able to study the stranger who looked at the workers but kept one hand on the door to the truck. He kept his ball cap pulled down to avoid eye contact.

        The man’s eyes finally fell on the large poster of a Giant Great White Shark; its mouth open wide and one tooth sparkling like a diamond. Staring at it he didn’t hear Tate approach.

        “That’s Big White. He travels back to the Pacific Ocean from the warmer Gulf of Mexico waters every August. I’m Sheriff Tate Ramsey. Are you here for the rodeo? We don’t open registration for another hour. Perhaps you might want. . .”

        “I’m not here to fish. I’m looking for someone and thought you might know where I can find him?”

         “Who are you looking for?”

        “A man that used to live here. Name’s Tipp Torres. Do you know him?”

        “Yeah, I know him. Tipp and I grew up together here. But, if I saw him I can promise you he’d be right back in jail where he belongs. You do know about his escaping from a prison ambulance two months ago?”

         The man looked uncomfortable and the truck keys twitched in his hand.

         “I heard Torres escaped but he was never caught. Since he used to live here I figured he might have come this way to hide or for help to get away.”

         “How do you know Torres and why are you looking for him? ”

         “That’s my business.”

         “Sir, anyone looking for a convicted bank robber and murderer that has evaded the law for two months is my business. Now, who are you and why do you want to find Tipp Torres?”

         “Name’s Carl Levy and he owes me money from work I did for him before he was sent to prison. I just want to find him and get my money.”

         “Must be a lot of money if you’re searching for a man that half the law officers in the country are looking for.”

         Levy continued to look around.

        “Doesn’t his dad live here? Maybe he might know something.”

        “Ray Torres died a year ago and as far as I know none of the islanders has set eyes on Tipp since his escape.”

         “Well, what about the girl that lives here? She’s the sister of the woman Tipp was supposed to have shot during a Brink’s Truck robbery.”

        “There was nothing ‘supposed’ about Tipp shooting and killing Megan Bedean. Four eyewitnesses ID’d him. Maggie Bedean was Megan’s twin and would have certainly let me know if she’d seen him.  So, you don’t need to go bothering her.”

         Levy shook his head and got into his truck.

         “Well, Tipp told me he would get back here when he could, so I’ll just have a look around a bit more. You don’t have a problem with that do you sheriff?”

         “Not as long as you aren’t an escapee too, and as long as you don’t hassle people.”

         Levy left the rodeo grounds as Tate’s phone rang.

         “What you got Rose?”

         “Truck’s registered to a Carl Levy. He spent time in Folsom Prison for  robbery. He and our own infamous Tipp Torres shared a cell for a time. The warden told me that the DA always thought Levy was involved in the Brinks’ robbery but couldn’t place him at or near the scene.”

           “Who were the witnesses that testified about Megan getting shot?”

          “All four were bank customers. Three were walking toward the bank when the Brinks’ truck pulled up to the bank. A guard got out, walked to the back, and pulled out a money satchel. As he turned to close the door Tipp appeared and pointed a gun at him.

         The fourth witness was coming out of the bank and yelled, alerting the driver. He got out and fired his gun but missed allowing Tipp to grab the satchel.

          Megan was just crossing the street and walked right into the back of the truck.. Tipp grabbed her. When she pulled away he shot her three times and then ran into a park and disappeared. The police finally caught him a month later, but he refused to talk about the robbery or where the money was.”

        “What about Levy? He never admitted knowing Tipp or anything about the robbery?”

         “No. He was arrested for emptying the safe of the lumber lot where he was working. He ended up in Folsom but the two acted as if they’d just met. Warden says Levy was released on parole two months before Torres escaped. Didn’t keep any of his parole appointments and disappeared. ”

         “That doesn’t jibe with what he told me about being owed money for work done for Tipp before he was sent to Folsom. I’m going to see Maggie and let her know what’s happening.”

         Maggie Bedean was cleaning her boat when Tate drove up to her camp.

         “What brings you here at this time of the morning Tate? Shouldn’t you be over at the rodeo grounds?”

          “Just left there. Going to be a good crowd this year. Looks like you’re getting ready to do a little fishing. Have you registered yet?”

          “Not yet. You know I prefer night fishing. I was just taking a look at what I might need. But really Tate, why are you here?”

         “I had a visit with Carl Levy just a little while ago. He was Tipp’s cell mate at Folsom and came looking for him. Says Tipp owed him money and thought he might have come here. Knows about the connection to the island and your sister. I told him to leave you alone, but I wanted you to know.”

         “I thought I’d come to terms with what happened to Megan until Tipp escaped. And now this other guy showing up makes me realize I won’t have any peace until this situation ends. I’ll keep my eyes open Tate and thanks for the warning.”

        “You still have your dad’s shot gun right?”

Maggie looked at him and then her gaze drifted to the building down by the river.

       “Yes Tate. I’ve got the shot gun, and I won’t hesitate to use it. I’ll be okay. Now, you’d better get back to the rodeo grounds, and I better get ready to do some fishing tonight. It’s going to be a full moon and that means Big White should be around.”

       “Do you need any extra chum to keep him busy while you catch your entry?”

       “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of trash collected to keep White happy.”

# # #

       An hour later Maggie watched from the door to her refrigeration building as a black pickup turned into her driveway.

         Carl Levy parked, taking stock of the woman watching him. She looked just like the woman that had stumbled into the robbery five years ago. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time – she had to go so she couldn’t ID him. But no one except he and Tipp knew that so, Levy got out of the truck and walked toward Maggie.

          “Morning, Mam. I’m looking for someone that used to live here. I’m told you knew him.”

          “Who are you looking for?”

         “Tipp Torres. I did some work for him and never got paid. I’m  hoping to get the money owed to me. I know he’s on the run and thought he might have come here looking for help.”

          “I had a visit from Tipp two weeks ago. He came to get a money satchel he said he hid in this refrigeration unit. I’d put a lock on the door when I realized someone was getting in, and he needed me to unlock it.”

          Levy moved closer to her and pulled a revolver.

         “Did you let him in? Did he get the money?”

          “No. He didn’t get the money. I…”

          “Open the door or I’ll use this gun.”

         Maggie pulled out a key and opened the unit door. Levy pushed her ahead of him. The room was cold and dark and Levy realized Magie wasn’t in front of him anymore.

          “Turn a damn light on. I want to see where Tipp hid the money. Where are you bitch?”

          A heavy object hit the back of his head, and he fell forward onto the ground. As he felt around for his gun a light came on and Levy pushed up onto a tarp, saw the Brinks’ money satchel, and as he pulled it down the frozen face of Tipp Torres grimaced up at him. Turning he saw Maggie holding the shotgun and his revolver.

         “As you can see Mr. Levy, Tipp Torres insisted on getting in here, He was so proud of that robbery he just had to tell me all about it. How my sister stumbled into it and how his partner acted to eliminate ‘the issue’. That partner was you Mr. Levy. You couldn’t be seen by the eyewitnesses as you shot Megan. Then you slipped into the crowd in the street and back to the park where your car was hidden.

I knew you’d show up sooner or later. Tipp said he had to get the money before you found it and him. I knew Megan and I would never have any peace until you two were gone.”

       “You took the money? You have it?”

        “No. I don’t need blood money, and I can promise that you and Tipp won’t need it where you’re headed either. So, enjoy it while you can and I’ll be seeing you soon.”

         She backed up, turned off the light plunging Levy. Torres and the money into darkness, closed and locked the door and turned the  refrigeration  unit all the way down.

          After sunset Maggie drove Levy’s pickup down the gravel road on the far side of the island past the abandoned fish camp where the river water fed into the ocean. She pulled her bike out of the back, turned off the brakes, and let the truck sink slowly into the current and out to sea..

          At midnight she opened the back door of the refrigeration unit and drug the stiff bodies of Tipp        Torres and Carl Levy onto the deck and pushed them over into the back of her boat.

           Her first stop was the deep hole at the mouth of one of the bay’s  tributaries. She uncovered Carl, who’s mouth was frozen in a permanent shout and taped a plastic bag holding $250,000 to his chest, Then she covered him in fish guts and slid the body off the back of the boat.

           She picked up her flashlight and pulsed it three times toward water - the signal she always used to announce, ‘dinner is served’.

           Silent and smooth as silk Ole Willie appeared at the boat. The twelve  foot alligator, an abandoned refugee from a child’s aquarium years before, gave her a toothy grin, backed up to where Levy was floating and in one swift move swallowed  the man’s head and half his body and drug the rest  into the hole and disappeared. Maggie knew no one would find the killer if they ever thought to look for him.

Then she headed into the ocean water for her second and last stop.  A bright moon broke through the fog and Maggie made sure there were no fishermen still seeking the perfect  trophy catch.

A slight curve in the island brought her close to Point Conception,
       “The Elbow of California”. She idled the motor and once more chummed the water. Soon a huge fin appeared and Great White rose slowly to the boat, rolled his head to the side, and eyed his friend of many years. The shark opened his mouth to show an impressive set of teeth with one sparkling like a diamond.

Maggie taped the second bag filled with $250,000 and fish guts to Tipp Torres’s body and slipped him over the transom. She watched as Big White appeared behind Torres, and in one smooth move, opened his mouth and made the  killer disappear. He circled the boat one more time, eyed Maggie, then he disappeared.

        “Now you and your friend and the money that was worth taking Megan’s life for, will sleep with alligators and sharks for eternity. I hope you enjoy that money as much as I enjoyed giving it to you.”

         As the rodeo grounds opened at dawn, Maggie pulled up to the dock with a forty pound Sheepshead.

Tate watched as several fishermen hurried over, tied up the boat, took the fish up out of the large ice chest, and carried it to the weigh in station.

        “Well, I can tell from its’ size that you are in first place in the Sheepshead category Ms. Bedean. How far did you have to go to find him?”

        “Not far Tate. Water was smooth as glass and the moon made an appearance.”

        “Did Carl Levy make an appearance?”

        “Yes. He stopped by not long after you left. I told him I hadn’t seen Tipp in years. He asked if I knew any place he might hide. I mentioned the old camp we all used to play in as kids. He nodded and left.”

         “Did you have to use a lot of chum to get the Sheepshead to bite? Someone reported seeing Great White at the mouth of outlet.”

          “There was a large school of bass moving up toward the Point so there were plenty of fresh fish. But just to be sure Great White was full I filled the water fish guts and a bunch of other trash I’d collected and moved on.”

          Tate studied her for a moment then smiled.

         “Well, I think it’s time we move on over the weigh in station and see if your long night’s work will make you happy with that $1,000 prize.”

          “Not enough money in the world to make me happy. I have what makes me happy right here Tate. A wonderful island, good friends, and no trash problem.” 

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      Pamela Ebel has been published in Shotgun Honey, The BOULD AWARDS 2020 Anthology, as well other venues. Her poetry has appeared in the Delta Poetry Review. A native of California, she now concentrates on tales from her original home state and tales from the highways of the South. She also knows, like the Ancient Greeks and the Irish, that as a southern writer you can’t outrun your blood.

     She has turned to writing full time as of 2020, obviously either perfect or bizarre timing, and this will be her fifth career. She lives in Metairie, Louisiana, with her husband and two cats.

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      Sophia Wiseman-Rose (aka Sr. Sophia Rose) is a Paramedic and an Anglican novice Franciscan nun, in the UK.  Both careers have given Sophia a great deal of exposure to the extremes in life and have provided great inspiration for her.  

  She has travelled to many countries, on medical missions and for modelling (many years ago), but has spent most of her life between the USA and the UK. She is currently residing in a rural Franciscan community and will soon be moving to London to be with a community there.  

  In addition, Sophia had a few poems and short stories in editions of Black Petals Horror/Science Fiction Magazine

 The majority of her artwork can be found on her website.

  https://www.artstation.com/sophiaw-r6