“Can you get back in your goddamn seat now?” I demanded in a low voice.
“Could you stop being a child?” Loafers sat back in his seat, scowling. “I’mhelpingsomeone.”
“You’re harmingme.” I made a show of rolling my shoulder at the same time I casually adjusted my shorts, which had gotten way too cramped suddenly. “I’m probably all bruised now. And you could have dinged my bad eye.”
“Did I?”
“Not the point.”
Dale’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between us. “So, how long you two been friends?”
“Ten minutes,” Loafers said sweetly, at the same time I said, “Too long.”
Dale shrugged. “Where you gonna be hangin’ your shingle, Doc? ’Cause I’ve had this mole on my right foot for ages, and I’d sure love for you to take a peek at it. Looks kinda like a jellyfish with tentacles, but itswellswhen the tide comes in. Is that normal?”
“When the tide…no! Definitely not.” Loafers looked a little bit horrified.
“Great!” Dale slapped the edge of the window frame twice. “I’ll come find you first thing Monday, then!”
“See you then!”
“Loafers…” I put the car back in Drive. “Don’t make any promises, okay?”
“What do you mean?” He blinked at me warily. “About seeing patients?”
“Remember what I was saying? About Rafe exaggerating things? Look around you. What do you see?”
The road ahead curved left, taking us away from the beach and closer to the bay, and suddenly the street widened and the town center appeared in all its faded glory. Two-story dingy white Victorian buildings with peeling gingerbread-covered railings running the entire length of the second floor stood beside smaller, brightly colored single-story storefronts with wide awnings over dirty, empty window fronts. The signs on the fronts of the stores were either faded or missing entirely.
I pulled into a spot next to Mickell’s Arcade and stopped to let Loafers get an eyeful.
“Is it… not tourist season?” he asked hesitantly. “Everything looks closed down.”
I sighed. “Loafers, it’snevertourist season on Whispering Key. Not anymore.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. Look, that there is the Godfrey Inn.” I pointed to a three-story building near the docks with a wide front porch and plantation shutters that were missing a few slats. “Miss Thelma hasn’t had a guest in this millennium. And the building next to it?”
“The Tate Gallery?” Loafers peered at the sign through the window.
“Yeah. No relation to the one in England, in case you were confused. It’s been closed for maybe seven years, since Shannon moved up to St. Pete Beach. Mickell’s here hung on until Jeremy shut it down two years ago, but he still opens it up sometimes, like on New Year’s Eve, for us to play pool. Wynott’s secondhand bookstore is in that Gothic building across the square, but trust me when I tell you, donotgo in there asking for anything that made a bestseller list in this millennium. Pickles’ grocery store down the road is open whenever Jimmy feels like working. We’ve got a coffee place down the way called Bean Me Up, but Scotty only opens it on weekends. The Concha’s open every day.” I pointed to the narrow orange building across the street. “Food’s amazing, but there’s averylimited menu—basically whatever Lety feels like making that day—but it’s a good option if you don’t feel like hauling your ass an hour over Cooter Key to the Red Lobster.” I turned my head to look at him. “Are you getting the picture?”
“That this part of the island is a ghost town?” Loafers nodded, concerned. “Why, though?”
“No, not thispartof the key. Thisisthe key. Everything from those houses we passed when we came over the bridge all the way up to the other end of the island where theFive Star Resortis.” I made air quotes with my fingers. “And as forwhy… A whole bunch of things, I guess. Short version is there was an accident a few decades back, and a tourist died. Tourism slowed a bit, nobody knew how to pivot, and businesses shut down or didn’t keep up. The place started feeling stale, so tourism slowed more. And then more. Throw in a malevolent spirit and a couple big storms, including the one that knocked out the bridge from Whispering Key to the mainland, like Dale mentioned, and here we are.”
Loafers ran a hand over his face. “A malevolent spirit?”
I sighed. “A stupid legend that’s the least of your concerns. See that red shack, over there by the docks? That’s the home of Goodmen Outfitters Adventure Tours, the company my uncle—yournew boss—and his brother started an age ago. Goodmen Outfitters used to really be something back in the day. Kinda like Whispering Key itself, I guess. They sold everything from diving equipment to mountain climbing gear—supplies for whatever kind of adventure you could dream up. These days, that shack and the crew boat next to it—theMary Anna—are all that’s left. Big Rafe and my cousins and I use the boat to run charter tours off the mainland. We take frat bros out to drink Four Lokos in the sun over spring break, or take bachelorettes out to drink champagne and listen to stories about ghosts and buried treasure. Before he got himself elected mayor of this island, that wasallRafe Goodman was in charge of.”
“But… what about the resort? Don’tthoseguests want to take tours?” Loafers sounded a little desperate, and I almost felt sorry for him. Denial was a powerful drug.
“Thereareno guests. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” I said gently. “You were played, Loafers.” I patted his shoulder.
Loafers pulled away. “What you’re saying is impossible.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Ah. So it was gonna be likethat, was it? Served me right for being nice.
