By many standards it was a rinky dink island in the Caribbean, no great shakes as small islands go but it was held in very high regard by the polyglot cultures and races who lived remarkably harmonious lives, all five thousand of them.

There hadn’t been a census for that would have required census takers and there was no money to be spent on frivolous enterprise. Things seem to balance themselves out so they didn’t bother with such mundane things, better to play dominoes and a peculiar card game understood only by the natives.

Children were held in high regard and an occasional smack on the bottom was the universal punishment when they became unruly. But the freedom to roam was there and kids of every color and stripe went to bed shortly after sunset.

This harmony came about because there were aquamarine waters, palm trees galore, stands of sugar cane, critters native to such a clime, sunsets and sunrises which took care of any lingering traces of the urban jangles, these marvels were considered commonplace, part of the compact when one gets to live in Eden.

Most folks didn’t focus on the beauties around them; they were as much a part of the local scene as the sand crabs that scuttled over the beach at night. If they lived in a paradise it was a paradise in which they made do with very little if any contact with the outside world.

They had a capital of sorts, a bedraggled fire department, one part time constable, the department of sanitation still checked outhouses, a three holler was considered an affectation unless you had an enormous family and an attitude that made laizzes faire look like an authoritian regime.

They did without much, had frequent electrical blackouts, the roads were an abomination, the politics a joke because there was little to steal, and the world hadn’t intruded since they had been granted independence shortly after world War II. The grant of independence came because the country which had previously owned them felt that since they couldn’t plunder this outpost, might as well give it independence and look good before the U.N. Meantime the islanders were free and some still thought they were better off under the old regime which occasionally made small investments in the island infrastructure. But they were free and didn’t think too much about it.

The weekly newspaper ignored the cold war and concentrated on soccer scores, the price of copra, society doings, they had inherited that mental meltdown from their previous occupiers, and an occasional local story including thefts and break-ins. There weren’t too many of the later because people left their doors unlocked and everyone had basically what everyone else had so there was little envy and less to covet. If an occasional bicycle went missing, and they were the standard mode of transportation, they would show up sooner or later. It was a matter of fact that many bicycles were left in the center of their capitol and people used them as they wished, sort of a circulating transportation system. Somehow they always seemed to end up back in the center of town.

A costal schooner delivered supplies and two-week-old magazines, and they were donkey carted to the local general store, which had a section passing as a library. Well-read books were also left as people finished reading them. Literacy was very high indeed for a small, isolated island for those who had strayed to faraway centers of higher learning came back eventually and became itinerant teachers.

There were two local saloons a rather saucy bordello whose inhabitants were not only tolerated by the locals but also frequently invited to general social functions. There was a non-denominational church from which an old ship’s bell would call the faithful on a Sunday morning. Attendance was surprisingly good and there were celebrations of the great religious occasions.

There greatest single treasure was harmony about which nobody commented because it was part of the warp and woof of the island’s life. There was a miniscule writers’ colony, half a dozen good, steel drum bands and an annual competition, some of the best dancing in the world, even the Anglos got into it, although there was a minority who thought this was going too native.

If you wore socks it was considered a social occasion and siestas were an intrinsic part of everyday life and permitted staying up late and visiting neighbors and playing cards or just talking about the everyday things.

Indians from the new world, blacks from other parts of the Caribbean, a poi pourri of drop outs, retired academics, exhausted survivors of the big war, retirees with limited resources looking for Eden mingled with little thought to skin color, religious preference, or social standing for there was damned little of that particular disease. In short, it was a
paradise of a sort and taken for granted by all and sundry.

But as you might recall Eden didn’t last all that long because Eve got tempted and took a bite of an apple.

As for the residents in one particularly attractive kampong, which meant a gathering of houses or huts in Indonesia, Dame Sally Goodmantle had a legitimate title, a wonderful view of the world and a rather gallant if tragic history.

Her husband, the Baronet Jeffrey Hyde Goodmantle, had won the Victoria Cross serving with the British eighth Army in the Western Desert, North African campaign to Americans, and was killed in the blitz while he was on convalescent leave in London. Sally Goodmantle’s son and heir was trying to save the family estates and not doing a very good job of it. He had jumped behind enemy lines before the invasion and had been captured, tortured and escaped during a particularly heavy bomber raid by Bomber Command. He walked with a limp and emotional scar tissue but carried on with that particular English pluck which is unique to that island nation.

Dame Sally judged no man harshly but registered just about everything with a truly marvelous mind and the forbearance of those who have lost much and have found that strange peace which comes from a belief in a divine plan. For the life of her she couldn’t explain that plan for it would remain a mystery but she truly believed that it would turn out well in the end. It was her bulwark and armor against vicissitudes large and small

. She was a wonderful woman and had come to terms with the strange relationship she shared with both a former British Army Colonel and a Colonel from the Imperial Japanese Army. She loved them both and shared her heart and bed with them and again there was that strangest of all gifts, harmony.

Colonel Quetnin Avery Peckham’s only son had died in the insane raid on Narvik early in the war and his wife had not survived the experience. She had simply retreated within herself until death provided release.

A brave man, he was among the walking wounded when he retired after the war. He had spent a year going from nowhere to somewhere and had stopped on the island because he had simply run out of energy. Like Dame Sally he was financially rather well off and wanted for nothing. He kept a daily diary and between it and Dame Sally he was almost sane. He had a small cabin cruiser and he and his Japanese counterpart would go out occasionally and his Asian comrade would catch fish and shared this delicacy with his neighbors and co inhibitors. Sally had brought him from the neither regions where brave men go who have lost everything.

He was well matched in Colonel Yoshiro Yamasuto, late of the Imperial Japanese Army and holder of several high Japanese decorations. He was a total stoic and had lived by the warrior’s code while fighting American Marines on Guadalcanal. The only thing that prevented him from committing Seppuku, ritual suicide, was the fact that he had been severely wounded and was later tended by American surgeons and nurses.

He kept his sanity by imposing discipline in the internment camp and with the absolute devotion he had for his wife and two sons. One son killed in the Philippines and the other perished by his mother’s side in the city of Nagasaki upon which the American‘s had dropped their second hell bomb. By a strange twist of fate his family possessions in rural Japan became very valuable and he was a rich man though virtually without feelings until he met Dame Sally.

He had simply appeared one day with a minimal amount of possessions after booking passage on the trading vessel. He became neighbor to both Peckam and Dame Sally and became part of their enclave and it became his. They had once, and only once, spoken of they’re past lives and they had bonded in an extraordinary way. He was also an asset in that he had always been a superb oriental chef, an avocation in which he indulged without conscious thought or effort.

Peckham had tried his hand at distilling rum from the sugar cane which grew everywhere on the island and had cautiously added certain spices to the wonderful beverage and he gave his product away as part of his contribution to the commonweal.

Happiness was not in their collective lexicon but they were devoted to each other and acted with complete decorum. Peckham shared Dame Sally’s bed Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and Yamasuto, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, Sundays giving respite and contemplative time to the trio. They shared marvelous Japanese culinary fare on Sundays although Peckham blanched at octopus and raw fish when initially introduced to it.

It was very much part of the fabric of the island that nobody, but nobody even commented on their triune relationship. Probably no one would have dared for they were formidable. Peckham had fought as a light heavyweight ion his youth and Yamasuo had practiced a strange appearing self defense technique originally perfected in China. It looked odd at first but there was symmetry to it and a grace and the opponent always, but always, was quickly out of the fray.

Another refugee of a different stripe but similar character was Nancy Fuller, former Captain U.S. Army nursing corps who had heard of the island from a wounded young naturalized American G.I. at Anzio in the bloody ground that Winston Churchill described as the “soft underbelly’ of Europe. He could speak of nothing else but the island’s beauty and serenity and the message registered with the brave nurse who detested violence in any form. Her soul sought surcease and she took her mustering out pay and sent her meager belongings on ahead. Without realizing it she had bought a one way passage. She was welcomed for there was only a four room dispensary with an aging doctor who was far more interested in rare tropical parasites than in the occasional brawler who got cut up on a Saturday night of or the even more occasional complaints of the islanders who had an enormous tolerance for daily aches and pains.

One thing the previous possessor of the island had done was to eliminate various and sundry diseases. The islanders’ diet, rich in fish, poultry, fresh vegetables and fruit, because there was no cattle production, tended to make very healthy. There was little if any heart disease, high blood pressure was rare and it was considered normal for most old timers to celebrate their eightieth or ninetieth birthday. Passing a century mark got you two paragraphs in the local newspaper, the “Conch.”

Nancy Fuller had assisted in the field operating rooms where the majority of patients had ghastly wounds inflicted by German artillery, mortar and machine gun fire. In the Kampong, she shared the lives of the other three and sometimes, but rarely, admitted that a part of her longed for someone of her own, someone with whom she could spend long days and nights without remembering the sound of German shells and machine gun fire.

Then along came Frank Tolland, a truly beat up writer who had been commissioned a second Lieutenant in the Infantry, which he chose although the Army would have preferred he went into public information because of his newspaper experience. Tolland came out a Major with two Purple Hearts, the Silver Star and psychic wounds which he tended to with enormous amounts of the local island rum which could and frequently did go to 150 proof and was ridiculously inexpensive.

He was usually hung over and spent most mornings in a hammock where he sweated out the libations of the night before during which he frequently cried out in his sleep and Nancy fuller’s heart broke and the others shared her distress for Tolland’s suffering had been theirs. They had tried to share to strength with him, but he was too far-gone.

Occasionally he would peck at his typewriter before commencing his afternoon speed run to oblivion.

That afternoon had started as it usually did with Tolland; he had nine rum and sodas, about to stagger back to the compound. He usually didn’t make it. The usual idlers sat outside the tropical bar and waited for the inevitable.

He opened the swinging doors and the brilliant light caused him to lurch backwards and almost fall before he grabbed a rickety table and hung on for a moment. Nobody paid him any particular attention as he lurched forward again because this was standard operating procedure, a part of the afternoon scene. Tolland was never violent and always gentlemanly for which the owner was particularly grateful because he weighed in at 200 pounds.

He attempted to swinging door again and lurched through it and promptly tumbled down the three steps to the dusty street where he lay prone as a particularly friendly native dog came and licked his face.

Dame Sally stood with Peacham and Yamasuto who promptly picked Tolland up and deposited him in a wheelbarrow, which they trundled to the compound. They passed several stores and a couple of residences but rarely did people even acknowledge the procession

Upon arriving they removed his shoes and he would sleep until about six p.m. when he would awake shivering and miserable to begin another sleepless night. Nancy would watch as he alternately paced his porch as the surf lulled others to sleep. Sleep was his nemesis for it was in the night watch hours that the terrible sounds and recollections would start and they were unrelenting and re-opened wounds that had never had a chance to heal.

He had tried civilian life and had walked away from three decent newspapers before they fired him. On the last paper he heard of the island from a travel editor. With little more than a duffle bag and the clothes on his back he had arrived several months after the rest.

He was polite even gracious but the dreams were unrelenting and he heard screams of dying men and sometimes his own mingled with them and Nancy grieved for him and the four hundred thousand other Americans who lad lost their lives in the war to end all wars. She grieved for all the dead and those left behind and if possible, for the forty million or more worldwide who were simply statistics for historians to ponder.

She knew one thing, her antidote to the inhumanity was caring for the islanders and their children and she doted on them and they on her. Every morning there would be fresh fruit and fish placed on her bungalow porch. Once there had been a break-in and she was deeply upset. The very next day her possessions were returned and a local neer do well hurt for several weeks and avoided her like the plague.

Tolland had more than once watched her without her being aware and was drawn but always stopped short of steeping across that invisible line between casual acquaint ship and intimacy.

One day she went to his cleanly but bare bungalow and left half a dozen sleeping pills. He was touched by the gesture but didn’t take them. Their lives continued in this fashion for several months but a new arrival changed things for a time, and Tolland, forever.

The newcomer was hardly a messenger of good cheer; in fact he was the worst thing that had ever happened to the island barring a hurricane forty years before.

Mort Stefanelli had dreams unlike Tolland’s, which were nightmares. Stefanelli wanted to be as rich as Midas and had a feral awareness of every weakness in his fellow man. He was also a student of the times and he saw the advent of the peacetime boom as a means of achieving his goals. He also watched with interest the nascent jet aviation industry and knew for a fact that it would change the travel habits of millions of Americans who would substitute the Caribbean for a week “at the shore.”

His taste in apparel was appalling and he sweated profusely and it caused his toupee to slid over his face at the most embarrassing moments. His taste in women was eclectic and one slime ball associate had observed that he would make it with a snake if someone held the snake’s head and that wasn’t far from the truth. He had a constant state of satyrsis, which came in a close second to his greed. In short, he was a rat.

His employers couldn’t have cared less; the only thing they cared about was looking for a new Caribbean site for a gambling operation. There were rumblings in Cuba and the syndicate, which had hooks into the nascent desert operation and Reno, was looking to expand.

Exuding sweat Stefanelli had brought three large suitcases filled with garish clothes, which he felt would blend in with the natives taste. His pinks and browns and blacks and yellow shirts stood out like a fire hydrant to a dog with a full bladder. He looked for his new minions whom he knew only as Booger and Dink

He noticed the beat up hearse arriving at the head of the dock but paid it no mind until two men proceeded toward him and his mouth opened in wonder. Booger was wearing stained pink slacks, two-toned shoes without socks and a green and yellow Hawaiian shirt. His companion, known to all and sundry as Dink, just Dink, was immense, pushing four hundred pounds stuffed into a farmer’s overalls, a filthy chartreuse shirt and a pair of G.I. boots without laces.

This apparition was eating a giant chocolate bar and shoved it almost whole into his mouth when he spotted Stefanelli who watched as the hippo sized Dink wiped his hands on his overalls. Stefanelli wasn’t prescient but he felt the first murmurings of doom but dismissed the signal, which was only the first of many to come. His greed came first, that and genuine fear of his bosses who frequently made trips to the Jersey meadowlands and came back without one of their number.

Booger eagerly moved toward his new boss stuck out his hand and announced, “Mr. Stefaneli, I’m Booger, he’s Dink, just Dink and we’ve been handling the company’s affairs for the past six months. Stefanelli just stared, then muttered, “I don’t believe this, I don’t believe this.’

Booger, who had the sensitivity of a slug, grinned and asked, “Er, wouldn’t you like to get out of the sun?” His new boss nodded as Dink nearly pushed him off the dock as he made for the three big suitcases. Booger made no move to help and the whale of a man tried to pick up all three at the same time and promptly dumped one into the pristine harbor waters. He grinned with chocolate stained teeth and made for the hearse while Stefanelli turned a distinct shade of purple.

“Get my suitcase you tub of guts or I’ll ram it where the sun don’t shine’ he shouted because he liked to hear the sound of his own voice and loved to talk tough for he was a practicing coward. He advanced with the still beaming Booger as they approached the hearse while Dink deposited the remaining two suitcases and went into the water to retrieve the third.

“What’s that supposed to be? Someone dead we’re picking up along the way, where the hell is the limousine?” Bogger blinked several times, “We’ll you see, there’s no rental cars on the island, in fact there’s less than a hundred vehicles total and we thought you didn’t want a horse drawn wagon so this was a compromise if you get my drift. It’s a little rusty but really comfortable.” He continued to smile as Stefanelli’s toupee started to slide over his sweat drenched face. He was prevented from saying anything else when Dink showed up with the suitcase streaming water. He deposited it where the casket usually went and climbed into the front seat and got behind the wheel.

Stefanelli was speechless as Booger led him around to the other side of the old vehicle. “Maybe you ought to sit in the middle, the right door sometimes flies open.”

His boss just nodded and got in the middle and Dink started the car and he noticed that the big man had left chocolate stains on the steering wheel. Dink grinned and gunned the engine and the old vehicle, belching smoke, started him on his journey.

Stefanelli readjusted his rug and looked closely at Booger. “What’s that name again?” Booger smiled, oddly enough he had perfect white teeth, “Booger, just Booger.”

‘That’s your real name?”

Booger frowned, “Well actually it’s Percival, but ever since I was a kid people have called me Booger because of a habit I have and I’ve grown to like it.” Booger smiled that totally disengaging smile again and waved to someone on a bicycle who raised his hand in response. Everyone waved to each other on the island; it was part of being sociable.

Stefanelli turned left and looked at the immense driver then he noticed several candy bar wrappers and empty Cracker Jack boxes on the floor. Dink’s stomach pressed against the wheel and several layers of flab hung both above and below it. He was repelled and fascinated by the moving mountain of flesh.

“Does he always eat?”

Bogger frowned again, “It takes some getting used to. He eats half a dozen times a day and likewise snacks during breaks. It used to drive me crazy but I got used to it. Besides he was the only one who would consider employment with yours truly geetus you fellows gave me. He has a good heart though and could probably left the hind end of this hearse if he had to. He’s a good fellow when you get used to him, a veritable treasure if you don‘t mind my presuming to intrude on your mindset ” and Stefanelli’s countenance registered dismay for this pair were to be his underlings in the transformation of the island and its culture.

He thought again of the small enclave which stood in the way of a total takeover of one of the most beautiful beaches to be found anywhere on earth and the five maniacs who had refused heavy money for their pathetic little bungalows.

He thought of the quintet as they drove toward the center of town a very short trip indeed. “They are whackadoos, all of them and I will get hold of those parcels if I have to personally remove the owners.”

He would concentrate on the nurse and the drunk first, they had to be the weak links for he had gotten hold of financial information from a the local banker who saw his treasury overflowing when the syndicate arrived little realizing that they had their own means of eliminating competition and their own ideas of banking and laundering.

With no one else to talk to Stefanelli looked toward Booger, “Do you realize the money riding on this deal? Zillions of dollars made outside the good old U.S.A. with no one looking over your shoulder, no Internal Revenue Service, no bank examiners. We’re gonna turn this hick island into the biggest resort and casino complex anywhere on earth including the French Rivera. We’ve been working on this takeover for five years, even during the war until we have been buying up the right properties now all that stands in the way are those dum dums on the inlet.”

Booger nodded, “We spread the money around like you said but we didn’t do nothing with regard to the present owners of the premises in question.”

Stefanelli looked startled, “Where did you learn to speak like that.”

Booger smiled that winning smile again, ‘I’m self-educated. My favorite author is Damon Runyon. Some day Hollywood is going to realize his true worth and make a musical out of one his books or my moniker ain’t Booger.”

Stefanelli’s toup slid over his face from the bouncing of the vehicle and he put it back on his head where it rested sideways. He was absolutely fascinated by his new partner although he had those forebodings of disaster.

“Tell me, do you lips get tired when you read?”

Booger frowned then smiled, “How did you know that? My index finger does too.”

Without realizing it he inserted it into his right nostril and acutely examined it after withdrawal. His concentration was total and Stefanelli, despite himself, found he too was focused on the treasure beneath Booger’s fingernail. Booger flipped it out the window and a dazed if not stricken Stefanelli shook his head and noticed Dink putting a wad of something into his mouth.

Exasperated he swiped the back of the driver’s head and Dink involuntarily swallowed and looked stricken.

“Damn it, stop eating you mountain of lard.”

Dink was rapidly turning a genuine shade of green. “I wasn’t eating.”

“Don’t tell me I saw you put it in your mouth.”

“ It wasn’t food, I swear.”

“Huh!”

Dink’s eyes bulged, “It was chewing tobacco,” and with those words he threw his head out the window and disgorged five candy bars, four eggs, half a dozen slices of bacon, two rolls, half a pineapple and sundry other items he had consumed since arising to the aforementioned glorious sunrise.

The car swerved and almost went off the road but there was little or no cause for concern for the nearest bicycle was four hundred yards ahead of them and its rider had stopped at the sight of the enormous Dink’s head emerging from the driver’s window and the ensuing cataract. If he heard the swearing and sounds of mayhem coming from the car he gave no hint. Shrugging, the rider turned his bike around and went back from whence he had come thinking he could take care of his town chores tomorrow or the day after.

The fabulous trio arrived at the town’s only hotel ten minutes later and Stefanelli emerged in a rage. He took one look at the “Imperial Arms,” and almost choked. The same dog that had licked Tolland’s face was asleep on the sagging, ramshackle porch as was the owner/bellboy/ desk clerk who took his repose in a wicker rocker with his hat over his face.

Stefanelli had a cigar halfway to his mouth when he threw it and the toupee on the ground and jumped on both of them to the amusement of those sitting outside the better of the town’s two saloons. It was a wonderful diversion and would provide laughs that night over dominoes.

A desperately ill Dink emerged and as if in a trance went to the back of the hearse and removed the luggage, one piece of which was still exuding water. He staggered up the stairs while Booger kept his cool and watched his new employed slowly calm down.

“Admittedly it ain’t exactly the Plaza but it has a certain, quaint charm wouldn’t ya say?‘ he inquired as Stefanelli shifted toward the first glimmerings of melancholy.

But the Brooklyn born operator shook his head and thought of money and trudged up after Dink who was leaning on the front desk. The owner/bellboy/ desk clerk, having been wakened by Booger, approached yawning and examined his new arrivals with open curiosity. He knew Booger and Dink and didn’t give them more than a glance but the disheveled little man with the hairpiece that now had slid over his forehead just a hair above the pronounced eyebrows fascinated him. He looked like an evil troll.

“Who are you? “ he said as he stifled a yawn and Stefanelli realized he was being addressed.

“Whaddya mean, who am I. I’ve got a reservation for a suite if you have such a thing in this dump.”

That was the first big mistake he made on the island for the owner/bellboy/desk clerk was suddenly fully awake and very angry.

“This is the finest institution of its kind on the island and I may very well be filled up and you can take your business elsewhere.”

Stefanelli gaped and realized he was dealing with a maniac not for a moment acknowledging that his manner would have pissed off the Pope. Booger gasped fully realizing that there was no other lodging on the island with interior plumbing, when it worked, and immediately interceded.

“Mr. Peddigrew, my new found boss and mentor is suffering from extreme heat prostration and ennui. He is obviously not himself, indeed he is another person entirely, one suffering the effects of seasickness and loss of essentially body salts. He must be forgiven his temporary lapse for indeed it is know the length and width of our island that your is truly an emporium of the first rank and worthy of visiting royalty.”

Indeed my new employer and mentor is descendant from a royalty himself through his mother’s family which has direct ties to the Duke of Toarminia which resides in the former island kingdom of Sicily,” and in a strange way there was some truth in this for indeed Stefanelli’s had indeed come from that mixed culture but perhaps not from royalty. In fact he had been a goat herd and did occasionally jobs for the Union Siciliano which required the use of a shotgun but is was reputed he was good to his goats.

Peddigrew listened open mouthed and looked from Booger to Stefanelli then to Booger again and slowly nodded. He was as bewildered as Stefanelli but he liked the sound of the title even if he hadn’t a clue to where Sicily was located nor its very interesting island hierarchy which would become very well know indeed years later. Much was learned of the island’s piquant history at U.S. Senate hearings into organized crime, which the then F.B.I. Director insisted didn’t exist.

With a flourish Booger signed Stefanelli’s name to the moldy registered and idly noticed that the last previous guest had been there six months before.

For whatever reason Peddigrew rang the shiny silver bell on the counter, picked up one of the bags leaving the other pair to Dink who was really feeling the effects of the swallowed chaw of tobacco. Problem was there wasn’t much left to chuck but he was near total collapse and totally dehydrated. He lurched down the hall with the bags and Stefanelli noticed all the rooms were empty and forty years out of date.

The wallpaper had shredded itself and someone had assisted so that about forty percent of the walls were covered and the remainder had turned a bilious green with assorted native fungi. Stefanelli immediately started to sneeze and with the second blast his toupee went flying and the dog, which had followed them, immediately attacked it thinking it one of the large coconut rats, which constituted much of his usual fare. He charged out the hotel with Stefanelli in hot pursuit but the wise old dog knew his turf and immediately went under the hotel, took a second sniff of the wig and urinated on it. He immediately lost interest when a stray bitch walked by with an intriguing movement of her butt. She resembled him in many ways and that made sense for he had been parent to more than half the pooches, which seemed to belong to no one and everyone.

Stefanelli seeing the futility of further pursuit roared back into the hotel and into his room where the nearly comatose Dink leaned against the rickety bathroom door and Booger was examining something under his forefinger nail. He was totally concentrating and didn’t realize his boss was back in the room when Stefanelli ranted for about three non-stop minutes. When he was gasping for air, Booker wiped his finger on his trousers and smiled.
“Considering the mishaps which you have encountered since arriving on our fair island I am in total agreement with your analysis.” It stopped Stefanelli cold and without realizing it he reached for the old phone and put it to his ear when a blast of static caused him to jump two feet, drop the phone which seemed a cue for Dink to charge into the bathroom with an impressive case of the dry heaves. He made love to the commode and rested his head on the rim as Booger raised his hands in a gesture, which universally suggested that this were the way things are and are going to be.

“About the phone, it only works between one and five p.m., most of the time and not on weekends,” At that point Stefanelli went to the sagging, lumpy bed, put a pillow over his head and cried.

Unused to the tantrums of his new boss Booger retreated to the porch of the hotel where the pooch was mounting his latest conquest. He sat and watched the mating ritual for there was really nothing else to do until his leader recovered.

That night the kampong residents watched the nocturnal feeders chase and devour insects of varying sizes and shapes. They had lit large citronella candles and the glow did little to hide the lines of tension etched on their faces. The subject, as it so often was, Tolland’s drinking problem, a problem with which seemed to be getting worse. Indeed he showed little inclination to fight demon rum and seemed further removed than when he arrived on the island.

There were contradictions, he was always neat and clean and his bungalow was spotless. The dog, which had befriended him, had started to hang around and was actually putting on weight. The animal watched as he paced the small porch in the night hours and sensed that there was something wrong with his new companion. He watched and would have given his life to defend him.

Tolland had fallen into a fitful sleep the night before and awoke everyone with his cries and Nancy Fuller diagnosed it as the commencement of delirium tremens, a symptom of a condition that was well advanced. She had spoken to the town doctor who suggested the drug Antibuse that would and did cause a violent reaction if the recipient took alcohol in any form.

She had talked to Tolland in very straight terms and he had listened and looked at the vile of tablets and promised he would think about it. To his credit he last precisely twenty hours without a drink then drank a full water glass of the local rum without a chaser. He was almost immediately drunk and soon thereafter violently ill.

He had managed to drag himself to bed and she ministered to him, making him drink fruit juices to replenish the fluids he had expended.

They next night they watched as he fought his demons but managed to stare at the rum bottle but not pour a drink. The battle of the bottle was joined.

Stefanelli arose when a cockroach the size of golf ball walked across his nose. He screamed and jumped out of bed and watched the totally indifferent bug continue his journey down the leg of the bed and disappear.

Shaken he headed for the bathroom which was large and clean but the pipes made obscene noises and it took the commode a full ten minutes to flush and refill. He took note of this fact as he entered the shower and turned both spigots and felt a trickle of lukewarm water trickle down his face. He made the mistake of swallowing a small amount and would pay the price the following day; indeed he would lose approximately nine pounds in the week to follow.

But for the moment he was intent on visiting City Hall and the public servant who has had his palm greased for months but still hadn’t been able to move against the inhabitants of the small inlet.

His minions were awaiting his pleasure on the porch. Booger was wearing enormous sun glasses which he was convinced made him look dashing while Dink, now totally recovered, had found and wore a pair of woman’s sunglass which had a prescription in them. He wore them anyway although things close up looked like they were somewhere on the horizon.

They stood as Stefanelli, without preface said, “ City Hall, and step on it.” The pair looked at each other and wisely decided not to say anything to inflame their touchy boss and got into the car, started it and drove in a half circle to the city hall, which was directly across the dusty street from the hotel.

To save face Stefanelli didn’t comment on the duration of the trip but instead got out, adjusted his yellow, green and red tie and tried to adjust a white shirt, which seemed about to pop its buttons. He put on a panama hat, which he thought of as high couture and walked up the old, coral steps. He paused before entering the ramshackle building.

“I can’t believe this is the City Hall, but on second thought it makes perfect sense. “

Booger appeared hesitant but spoke anyway, a habit that had gotten him into trouble over the years and one which had not enhanced his almost non-existent sex life.

“Well, sometimes it ain’t the City Hall.”

Stefanelli could feel a migraine coming on, “what do you mean sometimes it ain’t?”

Bogger frowned and stepped back a foot. “Well, in order to conserve moolah, they only use it as a part time City Hall. It is open from nine a.m. to noon at which time it closes in order to conserve that aforementioned moolah.”

Stefanelli thought that over for a second and looked for a bright side for he always, but always, sought an angle, an edge. “Between Nine and noon?”

“Yeah, and sometimes at night they have bingo games which are widely attended, the social fabric of this small community being rather restricted if you get my drift.”

Stefanelli shook his head and was about to enter the building when Dink, just Dink, pushed ahead of him to open the door with a smile on his face because in reality he was a gentle and considerate soul which was understood and not taken advantage of by the local inhabitants.

They liked Dink and were always calling out to him and some left fresh produce on his doorstep and sometimes even a candy bar or two. He baby-sat for nearly everyone for he loved kids and they would frequently follow him around marveling at his capacity for food. He would tell them made up funny stories but had just drifted into a sticky wicket in his companion and his new employer. Things just happened to the enormous fellow because he never made decisions, just let fate play his hand, make his choices for him.

At the door, in his enthusiasm, he misjudged his movement slightly and shoved Stefanelli into the edge of the door and was totally confused when his employer reeled back into a dead palm tree, grasping it to prevent himself from going back down the worn coral steps. Dink groaned and offered to pull him up but Stefanelli’s face showed genuine fear at the offer and he promptly let go and landed in a neglected, weed filled garden of sorts.

Booger closed his eyes and reached for his employer who swiped at him as he mounted the steps. He glared at Dink, just dink, and pulled open the door himself and without hesitating followed the sign which directed them to the mayor’s office.

He pushed open the door while wiping himself off and was about to make his usual splashy entrance when he realized there was no one there, neither secretary nor his honor the mayor.

The room was furnished in honor of the Salvation Army and local dump, which was rather carefully picked over by some local residents. He heard a scurrying noise and barely glimpsed a furry creature about a foot long dart into a crevice in the wall. He turned in utter frustration toward Booger who lifted his hands.

“I don’t perceive what the problem is, he was supposed to be here to meet you, and perchance he is otherwise occupied with his other duties.

Stefanelli stared open mouth, “I’m almost afraid to ask what other duties?”

Booger brightened for he knew the answer, “ He is also Sanitation Commissioner which largely concentrates on enforcing the code regarding out houses.”

Stefanelli, city born and bred, looked at him, “What’s an outhouse?”

Booger blinked, “You know, where you go to take care of your bodily functions.”

Stefanelli shook his head, “We are going to save this island and there ain’t gonna’ be anymore outhouses.”

If he had looked over his shoulder and across the courtyard he would have seen his honor the mayor supervising the replacement of just such an edifice. Four laborers had the “three holer’ on its side and where carrying it a dozen yards to a new deeper excavation.

The mayor, sanitation commissioner, looked at his watch and realized he had one of his rare appointments. “Cover that old one which all those newspapers and get this shell up, I’ve got an important appointment,’ he shouted as he headed for the back door of the municipal building.

He hurried up the back stairs and removed his sanitation commissioner’s jacket and

put on a black vest he had picked up at the funeral parlor for fifty cents. He slicked back his hair and entered his office where he found the trio standing mute.

“My apologies gentleman, I was delayed by matters of import.” Dink grinned, “Yeah, I read in the “Conch, ” you had to move the privy cause it was really ripe. I’ll have to go by and take a look.”

Cadwallader Astor could have gladly killed him on the spot, “Let’s get down to business shall we, the press of time you know.”

Stefanelli is typical fashion immediately dominated the conversation. “You wouldn’t know business if it hit you in the ass with a bass fiddle. Five lousy parcels of land on the beachfront is all that is holding up a 140 million dollar gold mine, the new Havana and the sky’s the limit and you haven’t been able to damned thing about it. Biggest thing since Havana to hit the Caribbean and you are out cleaning outhouses. Maybe that’s where you belong.

Have you even heard of “imminent domain?” you can kick their Asses out with a few fast moves and you’ve been cleaning outhouses. “

Cadwallader bridled, “Now just a minute. We have sanitation problems peculiar to this type island and are very conscientious about performing our duties. You can blather all you want but several of those people are very highly regarded around here and lady Good mantle is not only the Wife of a great war hero she also owns most of the stock in the bank and what she doesn’t control Colonel Yamasuto and Colonel Peckham do. They are powerful and resourceful and they scare the pants off of me.”

Stefanelli’s face grew red, “A sixty year old dame, two over the hill soldiers, a drunk and a nurse are holding up 140 million bucks, give me strength. Even a part time mayor/ sewer cleaner should have come up with something. If you can’t do it there are other ways to get them out of there and they may be too much for your timid little mind to follow. You won’t be sitting in that chair; you can sit in one of your outhouses. Got it Mr. Mayor?”

He straightened his toupee and stormed out of the office with Dink and Booger following like devoted dogs. In his rage he took the wrong turning and emerged via the back door and had taken half a dozen steps toward a pile of newspapers when the mayor threw his head out the window and yelled, “Be careful, don’t go there, we haven’t finished,” but the little tyrant turned, scowled at him, turned again, stepped on the newspaper covering the full cesspool and plunged in.

Dink and Bugger stared in horror, as the apparition emerged with his eyes wide open. They backed away as he vainly tried to climb out of the pit, looked at each other and ran off. Finally one of the laughing bystanders pushed a pole in his direction and he emerged very close to a mental breakdown and a coronary.

Of course the inhabitants of the kampong were unaware of the strange scene behind neither the mayor’s office nor the gales of laughter as Stefanelli waded out into the beautiful seawaters, sullying them temporarily. A native wit immediately dubbed him “Muddy Waters” and the name stuck for he was rapidly becoming a legend and a delightful source of amusement on the island where the pleasures were often of a very earth kind. He took four showers back at the hotel and cursed it’s plumbing, his cowardly cohorts who had deserted him in his moment of need and started his campaign.

Nancy Fuller was speaking to her pet parrot, which sat unfettered on a perch toward the corner of her back porch. The hand hewn table scene provided a view of absolutely aquamarine waters and the gentle tide. Porpoises frolicked several hundred yards out and Nancy smiled toward them for she loved the intelligent and constantly playful creatures.

Indeed there were many stories on the island about these powerful swimmers pushing people back toward shore if they had swum out to far or had a mishap aboard their boats. She had noticed that Tolland’s dog, for she thought of the stray that way, would often run into the water when the porpoises swam close to shore and they seemed to accept him totally and would circle him as he barked and swam among them.

She had watched as a bond of affectation was cemented between the writer and the father of half the canines on the island. Tolland was waging the battle of the bottle and sleeping little but he hadn’t taken a drink in four days and they seemed like eternities. The dog stayed with him the whole time and would watch as he sweated and writhed in withdrawal.

Nancy had finally taken a hand and handed him a cocktail of pineapple juice and a powerful sedative. He had slept for fourteen hours and even taken a small breakfast, another milestone. Dame Sally and her two colonels began to visit and bring tasty food offerings and Tolland had been touched and grateful and had even joined them one night for fruit juice and conversation.

Nancy stroked her parrot when her phone rang. She identified herself and listened while Stefanelli identified himself as president of a real estate company who really had to see here on a matter of utmost importance. She frowned and responded since she was a polite person although she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why a real estate agent would be calling.

“You say it’s important, and you would like to see me now. You want to come right out, do you know how to get here?” But of course Stefanelli knew her whereabouts very well and had the compound surveyed without the occupants knowledge because it was key to the casino backers’ plan. He had corralled Booger and Dink and predicted an untimely death for the both of them if they ever left him in distress again. They were waiting dutifully by the hearse for his next move.

She hung up the receiver and stared at it for moment frowning then half turned and looked at Tolland’s porch where he was inserting a sheet of paper into his time worn typewriter. What she couldn’t see were the two dozen or so crumpled sheets in the wastepaper basket next to the rickety table.

Unaware of her gaze Tolland looked at his hands which began to shake uncontrollably, stood up and started half running, stumbling down the beach. He would do this until he fell gasping in the sand but this time she followed, jogging easily and when he went to his knees she lowered herself quietly and held him and realized that this battered man was crying softly.

She held him tighter and he didn’t attempt to withdraw perhaps realizing at an unconscious level that he would never make it alone and that she was willing to give, wanted to give and he let her. They stayed that way for half an hour until Bandito, for that is what he had named the pooch, trotted up and lay down beside them. Bandito knew he had a family even if they didn’t. They rose and went back to his bungalow where she put Tolland to bed and he slept without a sedative. She stayed with him for nearly two hours and when she emerged she found Stefanelli waiting, hat in hand, on her front steps.

He had been scowling and she had registered it before he put on an unctuous smile and approached, holding out his hand. She resisted the temptation to smile because the rug had once more started its downward slide and Stefanelli, wrapped up in his glorious spiel, didn’t immediately notice until it slipped and covered his eyes whereupon he shoved it back too far and it indeed did look like a yarmulke. She was fascinated and not regally paying attention to the sweating huckster until he mentioned the sum of $25,000. She could barely interrupt his pitch.

“You’re saying you are willing to give me twenty five thousand dollars for a quarter acre of property for which I paid $2,000 a couple of years ago? Are you out of your mind? You say you are a real estate professional, well professional you can get an acre down the block for that same two thousand dollars but of course it isn’t on the water. What makes this prime real estate, my neighbors have exactly the same six property, are you going to offer them that same amount? $125,000 for little more than an acre of beachfront?”

The look of panic on Stefanelli’s face was he first clue, the second was the hairpiece falling off totally without his attempting to recover it.

He sputtered trying to salvage his deal,
“Not only that but the consortium is willing to give you a piece of land further island absolutely free of charge. You can build a great new place for less than $5,000 and keep the rest. It’s a sweetheart deal, you can’t lose.”

“Can’t I? Well lets up the ante, I want fifty thousand US dollars and another house on site. Now that I think about it, how about a small car, nothing fancy.”

Stefanelli is hoist by his own petard, He has made a ridiculously high offer and now she is jacking up the ante. He said the first thing that came to his mind. “A car, what’s a car got to do with it?” and she realized that he was desperate for a deal, any deal.

“A car, why to drive to the beach, the beach I now live on.”

He almost choked when he said, “How about a used car?” She smiled and shook her head, “No way, Jose, I want it big and very new.”

He reached for a sodden handkerchief and forgot to wipe his streaming face, “ Well I would have to ask my boss.”

Nancy nodded, “And while you’re asking, I want a boat, not too big, I usually go out with Colonel Peckham but say something around twenty eight foot with a cutty cabin. Yeah, that would be dandy. A new boat, of course.”

Finally Stefanelli’s anger overcomes his greed.“ You’re out of your cotton pickin’ mind. I’ll get this property and the others too and you can eat your boat and car. Nursey, you are in for a helluva ride and you ain’t gonna’ like it one bit.”

“No, my mental faculties are just fine you little creep. This house ain’t worth five thousand let alone fifty and all those other goodies. And yet you were willing to make me a rich lady, owner of a car and a boat, a new boat. You are desperate and you can tell your boss to go to hell. Now get out of here before I lose my cool and prong you or have Banditio take a hunk out of your flabby backside. Oh, and before I forget, you are standing on your toupee.”

“You’ll prong me?

“You’ll sing soprano if Banditio does his job. Hearing his name the large mongrel came to immediate attention, stood erect and growled as Booger and Dink piled into the hearse and once again Stefanelli was up to his own devices. He backed to the vehicle and closed the door but not before shouting, “You’re out of you cotton picking mind, a whacko, a nut case.”

The shouting roused her neighbors and Dame Sally was instantly aware of the situation, reached into bag marked “manure” and emerged with a large clump, which she hurled with unerring accuracy. It explodes against Stefanelli’s perspiring face and open mouth and he screamed at his second encounter with offal of mixed variety that day.

There was no adding insult to that sort of injury but all of the inhabitants of the cottages assembled and Tolland found he laughing as hard as the rest of them. Even Banditio seemed to smile but dogs are not supposed to be able to smile.

Dame Sally observed, “I’m rather good at that, that was a googlie, wasn’t it?” and Peckham roared and almost choked and Yamasuto was once again intrigued by what passes for English wit as were most people of the civilized and non-civilized world.

Tolland, strangely restored, didn’t feel embarrassed at his collapse and began laughing along with the rest and quietly realized that there was humor and camaraderie on this tiny island. He was still grinning when he looked over at Nancy whose shorts and top revealed something he had forgotten or misplaced, physical need. He stared for a moment and she noticed his appraisal and cocked an eyebrow which, in its own strange way, is one of the most singularly provocative things a woman could do. She grinned at his discovery and was gladdened.

It was Yamasuto who returned something approaching order to the occasion.

“He is a ridiculous man and an even more ridiculous caricature of a man but his intent was serious. Please enlighten us Nancy if you would be so kind.”

Nancy frowned, “Once again you are right Yamasuto San, he came and made me a preposterous offer for my property and I’m sure you are all next in line although he has got to be giving himself ulcers at this moment. I’m pretty sure someone or something wants these particular properties.”

There were several nods and an on the spot conference of sorts immediately convened and the merry band became more sober.

Yamasuto beckoned them to his quarters, “I was preparing some humble sushi, the fish was caught today and I’m preparing a new, lime based sauce for it. If I may offer you humble fare, isn’t that the way the English would put it?”

He smiled quietly and realized that he could again smile and indulge in simple things after the terrible war years and his losses. He would have been deeply embarrassed if called upon to express his feelings toward this strange grouping but those feelings approached being part of family. The human psyche, left to its own devices, will seek refuge and succor from among its own kind and when you think about it, that’s how the whole thing began.

Indeed their amalgam now brought about other chances in the character of their small circle of influence. Children appeared at any and all hours and Nancy would instinctively reach for a stethoscope and look into their ears and mouths and generally give them a five minute physical followed by a lollipop for which island children would walk barefoot miles.

There was near poverty but no one starved on the island. Birth control was virtually unknown in many quarters although Fuller was working to establish a core group of women who spread the word to other women and in her way was making an impact but there was always a surfeit of “bush children” and they seemed welcomed wherever they went. Offspring were often informally traded and spent months with other members of the family.

In one of his more quiescent moments Tolland had recently remembered a Filipino family of whom he was very fond. While in college he had signed on to drive them across country for a wedding in Seattle. En-route they had dropped off a couple of their children with brothers and sisters and picked up their nieces and nephews and it was the most natural thing in the world for them. The children thrived and their quotient

for love was expanded.

He had thought of Nancy Fuller then and wondered why this attractive, vibrant woman was not attended by a husband, indeed seemed to have no suitors on the island. The answer stirred on the edges of his consciousness before he was beckoned to the Yamasuoto outdoor table which was not much more than several hewn coconut palm trees and two sawhorses.

The Japanese capacity for finding beauty was evidenced on the table which had been covered by a straw matting. The bowls were of a local, polished wood, there were servings of rice and local vegetables, ginger root and the powerful green sauce which had cleared many a western palette. The hot teas was served in small delicate bowls and he had flavored chilled coconut milk with lime and papaya.

Real estate was forgotten momentarily and they chatted while the sun slowly set and indeed conversation ceased as it usually did. Without realizing it Tolland had placed his arm around fuller’s waste and she now rested her head against his shoulder, the total reversal of their postures several hours before.

As host Yamasuto began talking. “It does not take much thought to realize that suddenly our little Eden is becoming the object of others speculation.

Peacham nodded, “With the war behind us industry is gearing up for a peacetime mode and there will be prosperity in so many societies which have gone without so much for so long. We are facing the advent of shrinking world and with the advent of this nascent jet aircraft age places like these are going to become desirable.

Dame Sally had stared at the vanishing sunset as the liquid fire dwindled and the night sounds intruded. Her role among them was unique and she was a strong and enriching presence. She was also a tigress with a tremendous sense of the rightness of certain things and this enclave was one of them. She had had enough of the world and war and she was a very wealthy lady.

“That obnoxious little man does not have the wherewithal to attempt a ridiculous offer like that and the temptation is to think him ludicrous and a figure of mirth. None of us are fooled, he represents something far more sinister.”

Nancy interrupted, “There’s a problem with that. What menace can there be from some shadowy organization that would hire a moron like that for a sensitive mission? I don’t think the opposition is too well organized nor too smart themselves.”

Tolland found himself being drawn into the discussion, “Don’t be fooled for a moment, this clown could be family connected and that counts for something among the big crime families in the states. If this slob doesn’t connect I feel confident that there will be another presence and it can be far more menacing. The poor local dupes are dogs bodies and not worth a second thought but Stefanelli, if that’s his name, is just the first wave.”

Yamasuto had followed this with interest, “You see this as a concerted effort, then

Some bunch of speculators?”

Pecham nodded, “Havana is totally an enclave for the great crime families in the United States and they are forever hungry, forever looking for places in which to invest and bring money back into the U.S. that is clean and not fair game for your Internal Revenue Service. This would be an ideal site, a place where there is little law on the books and an unsuspecting population. We must look to our own resources. I must say, Frank, you are looking a mite better these days, would you be up to doing a little research on our newly arrived guest and his intent?

Tolland paused for only a second, “Yeah, why not, there may even be a story in it for I sure as hell don’t have one up my sleeve and the great American novel remains elusive to say the very least. Sure, why not, if you let me use your phone.”

Fuller looked at him for a moment, “You re doing well, if you think of yourself a week or so ago. Just don’t push it, I will help as will we all. We are not pushovers.”

Yamasuto looked around the table, “I am certain that we will all be approached within the next several days or weeks with regard to our property. Perhaps it would be wise to listen at tentatively as if we were interested but not pursued by a lust for money. The more we hesitate the more we learn. It is the same at the negotiating table and this could be a long campaign.