It suffices to say that because this is one novel in a series, there may be things not understood unless one knows what has taken place in previous novels from this series. Here is a link to the first novel in the series: The Big Gamble in Paradise, paperback or Kindle.
Adam and Coyote
Adam Troy and Coyote Wingate were an unlikely duo. Like their sons, Trace and Sage, they had been friends since before going to school. Coyote, unlike his son, who stood over six feet; Coyote stood five or six inches shorter but built like a barrel of beer.
Trace navigated The Tramp Islander against the dock. Sage and Makani tossed the lines to Adam and Coyote, and they tied up the boat.
Sage jumped ashore. He shook hands and hugged Adam and his dad. Trace did the same. Excitement and surprise filled the reunion.
“Dad,” Trace said, “how long have you two been here?”
Adam glanced at Coyote. “Would you say a week?”
“Sure,” Coyote said. “A week and a day, for sure.”
“We were about to send a search team out for ya,” Coyote said.
“I met up with Allie,” Adam said. “She told me you went off to Bora Bora.”
“We were about to fly there,” Coyote said. “But Adam knows these parts and how the freight business is. It’s like being a long-haul trucker. You take a load one day away and come back thirty days later.”
“Where are you two staying?” Sage asked.
“Some place called The Coral Inn,” Adam said. “Coyote wanted some place with the looks of one of those old movies; overhead fan, louvered doors, and louvered shutters—we had to settle for less.”
“Yeah,” Coyote said, “no fan, a steel door, and no shutters.”
“But at a good price,” Adam said.
“The Tramp Islander is going to be dry docked for a week,” Trace said. “When we saw you two in the binoculars, we started making plans.”
“We’ve been here over a week,” Coyote said, “we’ve seen everything—twice.”
“I’ve seen some old friends,” Adam spoke despondently. “Suva seems to have swallowed up the old port. Maybe we could rent a boat and go to a few of the outer islands. I have some old friends out that way. At least I think they’re still around.”
Trace noticed the disappointment in Adam’s voice.
“Hey,” Trace said, “they’re coming by to get The Tramp Islander in an hour or two. There’s a load of coffee onboard. We can have the distributor unload it. Let’s get our gear off and find a room at their place. And Sage and Coyote, if you don’t mind, I’d just like to spend some time with Dad. I’ll have Makani stay here until the coffee is unloaded and they get the boat for the dry dock.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Sage said.”Let’s saddle up.”
Trace and Sage went back onboard and packed their gear. They had to explain the forty pounds of gold each that they had in burlap bags. Adam had a rental car, and they drove the gold to the nearest bank and deposited it in safety deposit boxes. Then they drove to The Coral Inn. Adam and Coyote checked out. Then they drove to a beachfront motel called The Pacific Royale. Adam and Trace got one room, and Sage and Coyote got another.
Trace rode with Adam on a drive along Suva’s waterfront.
“I’ve thought about coming back here for thirty years,” Adam said. “And here I am.”
“You sound disappointed,” Trace said.
“I was hoping it would all be the same,” Adam said. “I was hoping Allie would be young and beautiful and her husband, my friend, would share a drink or two with me. We’d all get together and reminisce. That’s what I hoped for but didn’t expect. Allie was great to see. She still has that sparkle. I just wish Frank was here.”
“Are you regretting this?” Trace asked.
“Not in the least,” Adam said. “I’m just being nostalgic.”
“By the way,” Trace said, “where are we going?”
“There was this joint I used to hang out, Sneaky Pete’s,” Adam said. “I’d like to see if it’s still there. It was one of those places where there were enough people to keep you from being lonely and at the same time not enough to bother you. I used to say it was the most perfect bar in the world. Best Singapore Slings this side of Singapore.”
Trace smiled. “I hope it’s still there. I’m eager to try.”
“You have to be careful,” Adam said. “They sneak up on you. Pete Jorgensen owned the place; big, tough, Norwegian. You had to be in those days. It was a sailors' joint. If somebody gave him trouble, he’d say, ‘Which do you want—headache, hospital, or morgue?’ One man said, ‘A headache will do.’ No one saw the punch. We just heard a crack, and the guy crumbled to the floor. It took the guy a couple of minutes to get to his feet. He walked over to the bar and asked for a beer and two aspirin. Pete charged him double for the beer. The man complained. He thought the extra was for the aspirin. Pete said, “Aspirin is free. I charge for the headache.”
They laughed.
“There was the time I was shorthanded,” Adam said. “My crew quit on me because we were going where there was heavy pirate activity. I needed the money. Pete closed his place down for a week and came with me. The rumor got around Pete was with me—no pirates.”
They laughed.
“Dan,” Trace said, “I hope he’s still around.”
Adam’s head darted forward, and his eyes flashed wide open. “Look at that sign, Sneaky Pete’s.”
Adam parked on the opposite side of the street.
Before Adam was able to lunge out the door, Trace placed his hand on his forearm. “Dad,” Trace said, “it’s been almost thirty years. When I came home the last time, I went to see my first-grade teacher. They told me she retired. When I went to her home, she didn’t remember me. It broke my heart.”
“Son,” Adam said, “I’ve lived over twice as many years as you. I’ve had a lot more heartache. One more ain’t gonna make me or break me.”
“I just…” Trace said.
Adam interrupted. “Son, I’m not fragile.” He winked. “Come on, Son, let’s have a drink. If it isn’t what it used to be, let’s show ‘em how it used to be.”
Trace smiled. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Adam got out of the car and hurried across the street. Trace jogged to keep up with him.
Adam stopped before walking inside. He scanned the building. It was a wood structure with peeling white paint. A sign from driftwood hung above the entrance, which read Sneaky Pete’s. Screens hung over oblong windows with tattered shutters. The roof was wood covered with thatch.
“Nothing has changed,” Adam said. “But the road was dirt and one lane back then.”
Adam looked at Trace standing next to him. He smiled. “Let’s go in.”
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