Asa is back, p.1
Asa Is Back!, page 1
Asa Is Back!
Asa Reynolds Short Story 1
Abigail Keam
Worker Bee Press
Copyright © 2023 Abigail Keam
Kobo Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form without written permission of the author.
The history is true, but the rest is fiction.
The book is not about you or your friends,
so don’t go around town bragging about it.
Book cover by Safeer Ahmed
Author’s photograph by Peter Keam.
ISBN 978 1 953478 17 7
10323
Published in the USA by
Worker Bee Press
P.O. Box 485
Nicholasville, KY 40340
Join My HoneyBee Club!
Join my HoneyBee Club and be the first to receive new release info, giveaways, flash sales, and other special stuff!
CLICK HERE!
Books By Abigail Keam
Last Chance For Love Series
Last Chance Motel I
Gasping For Air II
The Siren’s Call III
Hard Landing IV
The Mermaid’s Carol V
Asa Is Back! VI
The Josiah Reynolds Mysteries
Death By A HoneyBee I
Death By Drowning II
Death By Bridle III
Death By Bourbon IV
Death By Lotto V
Death By Chocolate VI
Death By Haunting VII
Death By Derby VIII
Death By Design IX
Death By Malice X
Death By Drama XI
Death By Stalking XII
Death By Deceit XIII
Death By Magic XIV
Death By Shock XV
Death By Chance XVI
Death By Poison XVII
Death By Greed XVIII
Death By Theft XIX
Death By Betrayal XX
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Join My HoneyBee Club!
Books By Abigail Keam
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About Death By Theft
Other Books By Abigail Keam
About The Author
1
A woman with long dark hair pulled into a ponytail, entered the lobby of the Last Chance Motel in Key Largo. She rang the bell on the front desk and waited. Even though it was night, the woman wore teardrop aviator sunglasses.
Eva Hanover stepped into the quaint, pine-paneled, mid-century lobby from the back room. “Welcome to the Last Chance Motel. You got in right under the wire. I was about to close up. How may I help you?”
“The sign says the Pink Flamingo Motel.”
Sighing, Eva said, “I know, but it was the Last Chance Motel for over sixty years, and that’s how the locals refer to it still.”
“I see. You should change the sign then.”
Ignoring the woman’s remark, Eva asked, “Would you like a double or a queen?”
“I’d like a bungalow as far away from your other guests as possible.”
“Umm, let me see,” Eva murmured, looking at her computer screen. “Bungalow eight is vacant. It’s the one closest to the lagoon and has a kitchenette.”
“Just as long as I have privacy.”
“It’s very secluded.”
“That’s exactly what I need.”
“How many in your party, miss?”
“Just me.”
Surprised, Eva looked up from her computer screen. “It’s a three bedroom bungalow.”
“It’s fine. How much do I owe for two weeks?”
“This is the off-season. How about two hundred a night? It usually goes for four hundred a night, but since there is just one of you.”
The dark-haired woman pulled out a wad of cash from her sleek black leather jacket.
“Miss, you sure you don’t want a single bedroom? We have some very nice suites available. The cost would be much less.”
The woman flicked off twenty one hundred dollars.
Eva looked cautiously at the bills lying on the counter.
“I’ll pay the rest later. May I have the key card to my bungalow, please?”
Eva hesitated.
The stranger waved the bills. “The money is good. It’s not counterfeit.”
Eva studied the young woman dressed in a black skintight shirt and pants. The woman reminded her of Diana Rigg as Emma Peel in the 1960s English TV show, The Avengers.
The stranger laid the bills on the counter and held out a gloved hand. “My keycard.”
Looking at the computer, Eva asked, “Your name please. I need to register you.”
The woman did not respond.
“Address?” Eva asked, wishing the woman would take off her sunglasses.
“Look, lady, I’m bushed. You’ve been paid. The key card.” The woman flexed her fingers.
Wondering if the young woman was hiding from an abusive relationship, Eva decided to turn over the keycard. “I’ll show you the way.”
“No need. I’ll find it myself.”
“Follow the pathway on the right. It’s the last bungalow.”
“Thank you.”
Eva added, “We have a complimentary breakfast in the morning.”
Before she could finish, the woman nodded and left.
Eva stood in the doorway of the lobby and watched the woman stride down the pathway. She seemed a little wobbly. Perhaps a good night’s rest would do her new guest good. In any event, Eva would check on her in the morning. Looking at her watch, she saw it was just after midnight. Time to lock up. After turning on the neon CLOSED sign, Eva locked the gate to the motel’s fenced-in compound. As far as she was concerned, the Last Chance Motel was full-up and closed for the night.
2
The dark-haired woman unlocked the bungalow’s door and slammed it shut. After throwing her bag on the bed and locking the front door, she grabbed some towels from the bathroom. Then she rummaged through her bag and removed a pair of surgical shears. Carefully cutting a long slit in her shirt, the woman peeled back the material to expose a fresh gunshot wound on her side. She took a thick towel and pressed it against her injury. It was only a non-lethal wound, but it had sliced deeply through her skin and hurt like the dickens. She was going to have to stitch it up herself or otherwise it would leave a large scar. She couldn’t possibly go to a hospital—not after what she had done.
Taking a stiff drink from the bourbon bottle in her bag, she poured some on her wound. Grimacing in pain, she took out a field trauma medical kit from her bag and clumsily stitched the wound. When she couldn’t make it work, the woman tore open a liquid adhesive pouch and spread the gel, gluing her wound together. She then wrapped a bandage tight around her waist. After taking another long gulp of bourbon, the woman swallowed some pain medication and self-administered an antibiotic shot. She wanted more bourbon, but realized pain medication and booze don’t mix. She was already in the danger zone due to trauma and blood loss.
The mission had been to steal back a stolen painting from the Isabella Stewart Gardner art heist of 1990, but the job went south fast. The woman had gotten word that a billionaire art collector had the stolen Rembrandt’s Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee on his yacht docked in Miami’s harbor. The reward for returning the stolen masterpiece was ten million dollars. The mission had been meticulously planned, but she had not counted on guard dogs being on board. During their week long surveillance of the yacht, her people had never witnessed any dogs. Faced with snarling Dobermans and their trainers with their guns pointing at her, Asa had to abort the operation.
Shuffling into the bathroom, she rinsed her face and stared into the mirror at a haggard face. She muttered, “Well, Asa Reynolds, this is another fine mess you have gotten yourself into.”
3
Asa slept the next day and then the day after. When she finally awoke, she was hungry. She called the motel’s office and asked if there was a restaurant which would deliver.
Eva told her that Aussie Jacks would be happy to deliver. It was a well-known seafood restaurant across Highway 1.
“Do these motel phones just connect to the office?”
“Dial 9 for an outside line. All the phones are working landlines.” Eva thought it strange that her mysterious guest didn’t want to use her mobile phone.
“Someone was knocking on my door early this morning.”
Eva answered, “That was the maid.”
“I don’t want maid service. Tell her to leave towels on the deck.”
“Will do.” Concerned, Eva asked, “Miss, is there something I can help you with?”
“Just need peace and quiet. Thank you for asking.”
“May I, at least, have your name?”
“Zasu Pitts.”
Eva frowned. Zasu Pitts was a film star from the 1930s and doubted this was the woman’s real name. She was growing increasingly uneasy about this guest, but she had taken the bills thrust at her to the bank and was told they were legit. Eva decided to give this guest a few more days before she rousted her out on her ear. In the meantime, there were fruit and pastries left over from this morning’s continental breakfast. She put the food in a small bask
“Are you feeling any better?” Eva asked. “You looked a bit pale the other night.”
“Much better. Got some sleep. Thank you.”
“We have a doctor on call. I could contact her.”
Asa lifted her sunglasses on her head. “What makes you think I need a doctor?”
“The same way I know Zasu Pitts is not your real name.”
Asa smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. “Aren’t you the clever one?”
“You mind telling me what your real name is?”
“I do. You’re being paid in cash. What do you care?”
“I care if you are running away from the law. If you are, you need to leave. I’ll refund your money,” Eva promised. She studied the dark-hair woman and noticed how muscular she was.
“I’m not running from the law, rest assured. I’m not a criminal.”
“No drugs?”
Asa laughed. “I’m not a drug runner or blood diamond currier. Anything else?”
“YOU STUPID IDIOT! You’ve spilled your drink,” a man yelled at his seven year-old daughter, who had tripped and dropped her soft drink. The girl’s mother stood passively by.
Both Asa and Eva stared disapprovingly at the man who was pushing his daughter toward the lagoon past the bungalow. The mother followed with her eyes downcast, not looking at Eva or Asa as the family traipsed on the footpath.
Asa asked, “If you wish to rid yourself of a guest, why don’t you purge that pig? I’ve been watching him. He does nothing but torment his wife and child. He kept splashing his kid in the face while swimming in the pool this morning. I fear what he might do to that kid in the lagoon. I know a sadist when I see one.”
Eva shielded her eyes from the glaring sun to watch the girl and her father. “I know. His name is Barkley. I’ve called a cop friend of mine to visit and watch him. He’ll speak with him if there is cause.”
Asa chuckled. “You know there’s cause. He’s the only one of your guests who screams at his family. Your friend speaking to him won’t accomplish anything except to enrage the creep. As soon as your friend leaves, Barkley will move his family to another motel and make their lives worse. I’ve seen men like him before. He’ll end up doing something horrible eventually, you know.”
“Aren’t you being a little dramatic? Not every man who is hard on his kid is a freak. The husband might just be having a bad week,” Eva said, swinging around only to see the bungalow door slam shut.
Asa was gone.
4
Asa went inside her bungalow and turned the air conditioner on high to block out the noise of the dysfunction playing outside several hundred feet from her door. She couldn’t bear the thought of the little girl suffering under her father’s power, but it happened all too often. Asa wanted to forget about the ills of humanity. Just bask in the sun and forget. Yes, she wanted to forget. Forget about the man she truly loved, but left behind because of her insatiable appetite for adventure and danger. She knew she would never have been happy with a house with a white picket fence and children. Asa craved action and realized if she hadn’t left her hometown, she would have made her great love miserable. She couldn’t bear the thought of his eventual disapproval and disappointment with her.
Now, after fifteen years, Asa was without a husband or chicks to call her own. She had traveled the world fighting battles with evil men and bringing criminals to justice—wondering if it all had been for naught. Nothing she had done had made one bit of difference in the world. It was still rotten to its core.
She looked at the bottle of bourbon on the nightstand, trying to resist its pull. It called to her. Succumbing to its allure, Asa took a swig of bourbon and then another and another until the bottle was empty. Asa passed out on the bed where she had disturbing dreams of men setting fire to houses with women and children trapped inside. It had been another failed mission in the Congo where she was sent to rescue a mission station, but only half of the village was saved. She and her team got there after rogue soldiers had set fire to the village. Asa rescued as many as she could, but not all.
Asa cried out in her sleep knowing she couldn’t save the women and their children. Her feet were encased in concrete and she couldn’t move, all the time hearing their terrible screams until there was blessed nothingness.
That’s how Asa slept anymore—drinking herself to sleep and dreaming the same terrible nightmare over and over again. Asa needed to forget the dream, the screams of dying children, and her own impotence at the situation. Asa just wanted to forget the past fifteen years and the regret she felt knowing that she had made the wrong decision leaving the man she loved behind.
Asa had been a fool and she knew it.
5
The next morning, Asa felt better and strolled about the motel’s grounds. It was a sweet little motel painted in pink with turquoise doors accented by colorful bougainvillea, hibiscus, bird of paradise, cassia, jatropha, oleander plants with palm trees added for shade.
Even though it was early and the air was still cool, Asa broke into a sweat and had to sit down in a lounge chair, catching her breath. She watched the proprietor Eva and her staff set up the complimentary breakfast and decided she was hungry, which was a good sign. It meant she was on the mend, even though winded.
Before Eva could finish setting up the breakfast bar, the overbearing Barkley pushed her out of the way before packing his plate with excess food. He retreated to a table while his wife fixed their daughter a plate.
“Bring me some orange juice,” he yelled at his wife.
Repelled at the man’s behavior, Eva glanced at Asa sitting in the lounge chair.
Asa gave a faint nod of her head.
As soon as Eva retreated to her office, Asa went over to the breakfast bar and loaded one cinnamon bun, one glazed donut, scrambled eggs, one pancake, and 3 strips of bacon onto a plate before hurrying back to her bungalow. Decidedly out of breath by the time she reached her unit, Asa went inside and sat down, rebinding her torso to help with the broken ribs and her wound. Feeling better, she sat by the window and ate until full. Asa looked down at her plate. She had hardly made a dent.
Sighing, Asa put the plate in the refrigerator and went back to bed after taking another pain pill. She slept until late afternoon, got up, took a shower, put on a fresh dressing, finished the cold pancakes and bacon, and went back to bed. This pattern of sleeping, snacking, and sleeping again lasted the entire day and into the next.
On the fifth day of her stay at the Last Chance Motel, Asa woke up, feeling almost human. She decided a little sun and salt water would ease her joint pain. Donning a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, Asa slowly made her way to the motel’s secluded lagoon, where she gingerly waded into the water heated by the summer Florida sun. She closed her eyes, listening to the birds, the wind, and the ocean. The sun beat down on Asa, who spread her arms, drifting into chest high water. The movement of the water lulled Asa into a semi-dream state until something bumped into her.
Immediately Asa opened her eyes and looked about, wondering if a shark was checking her out.
“She won’t hurt you.”
Asa looked up at Eva, who stood on the beach, holding several lettuce heads.
“What is it?”
“My pet manatee. She wants her daily lettuce. That’s all.”
“Well, give them to her. I don’t care for another bump. Once was enough.”
Eva joined Asa in the water and held out the lettuce heads as the manatee slowly approached her and took one lettuce head. The animal swam some distance away to munch on her treat. Eva pushed the other head of lettuce toward her. “Water feels good.”
