The Big Beyond by Michael Lister

Author:Michael Lister [Lister, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery: Thriller - Noir - P.I. - 1940s NW Florida
ISBN: 1888146346
Publisher: Pulpwood Press
Published: 2013-01-28T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

The Magnolia Motor Court on the west end of Panama City Beach had eight yellow bungalows in a U shape built around a common area in the middle with landscaping in need of serious attention. Each bungalow had green trim and individual porticos and awnings.

It appeared the once nice motor lodge had suffered greatly during the war the way so many things had—especially tourist and travel-related businesses.

At the turn of the century, there were only about eight thousand registered automobiles in America. By 1930, that number had exploded to some twenty-three million. It looked as though the Magnolia Motor Court had been built in the 30s and probably did quite well until the start of the war.The night was cold and windy, the planted palms clacking and flapping in the brisk breeze when I walked into the front office of the motel beneath the green sign in the shape of an M.

“Hiya, soldier. Need a room for the night?”

“You Paul?”

He hesitated, the warm, open face he had greeted me with closing, growing suspicious.

“Ah … yeah. Yes. Why?”

He had blond hair and greenish eyes, a round boyish face with pale skin splotched with light pink patches.

He added, “How do you know my—”

“I’m looking for Miki Matsumoto.”

“Oh,” he said, seeming to relax again. “I see. You with the government?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Well … you’re ah … arm. And … the fact that she … ah … ran off with that soldier.”

“You’re awful friendly with the enemy,” I said.

“Miki and Rina? They’re just girls. They’re not dangerous, are they?”

“What’s his name?” I said.

“Who?”

“The soldier. Let me see where he signed in.”

“Gee, mister, I don’t know if I oughtna do that.”

“You oughtna,” I said.

“But—”

“A young girl is missing, son. We don’t have time for this. Show me where the soldier signed in or I’ll arrest you for obstructing justice.”

He hesitated for just a moment, then turned the sign-in book toward him, flipped one page back, found the name, and turned it back toward me with his index finger on it.

I looked at it.

Miles Russet. 176 Gray Avenue, Mobile, Ala. 36601.

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He and Miki hit it off. And in a hurry.”

“That bother you?” I asked. “What I hear, you were pretty sweet on her yourself.”

“No sir. I mean, I like her, but not really like that. A little, maybe, but … well, two things … I couldn’t be with a girl that likes a fella like him … and well, I couldn’t be with a Jap girl. My parents would kill me.”

I nodded. “What was wrong with the soldier?”

“Loud. Arrogant. Obnoxious. It surprised me out of her. But she’s young and he was in uniform. Nothing to get my pulleys tangled up about.”

“You know where he was headed? Back to Mobile or—”

“Camp Gordon Johnston and boy was he dreading it. Wouldn’t surprise me none if he took the girl away and went AWOL.”

Camp Gordon Johnston, known as Hell by the Sea, was a one-hundred-sixty-five-thousand-acre military training camp near Carrabelle—about fifty miles from Tallahassee.

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