The Haunting of Tranquility Cove

Sharkyshark

Sharkyshark

Just chillin'
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The Haunting of Tranquility Cove​
Theo stepped off the ferry, squinting in the sunlight as he glanced around at the bustling pier. The place seemed pretty nice, all things considered. The dock was clean and seemed to be in good repair, although few boats were moored at this time of day. It seemed that most of the island’s fishing vessels were still out at sea, pulling up fish and lobsters for the town’s markets and restaurants. Looking about, Theo spotted the lighthouse, standing tall and gleaming white against the bright blue sky. He rummaged around in his pockets and retrieved a postcard depicting the very same lighthouse. Holding it up to compare, he nodded, satisfied that it was indeed the very same lighthouse. Flipping the card over, he read the few lines of neat cursive on the back, although by this point he knew the words by heart.

Hey Theo,

Tranquility Cove is wonderful, and the new house is great! I wish you were here to see it, you’d love it. Come visit sometime, Timothy and I would love to have you! Make sure you bring Clipper too, I’ve missed him.

Your favorite cousin,

Lucy

The postcard had been the last communication he’d gotten from Lucy, more than six months prior. Before that, he’d spoken on the phone with her almost weekly. After the postcard, though, she hadn’t picked up a single one of his calls. He’d begun to worry after a month, and had gone so far as to contact his Aunt Marla to no avail. That was to be expected, of course, as his Aunt Marla was one of the main reasons that Lucy had moved all the way out here in the first place. Calling the Tranquility Cove police station hadn’t resulted in anything either, and so here he was. He hoped that it was nothing, that this trip would result in nothing more than an unexpected visit with his cousin and her husband, but somehow he doubted it. Something wasn’t right here, he could feel it. Sighing, he glanced down at the Blue Heeler beside him, clipping a leash to its collar and giving the dog a pat on the head.

“Come on, then, Clipper,” he said. “Let’s go find Lucy. This island isn’t that big, someone here has to know her."
 
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Barbara tried to brush the salt water off her denim jacket. "Ugh, why is it so wet? I mean, I know it's a ferry over water, but you'd think they could keep the water off the boat!"

Charles was busy adjusting his camera bag and not paying her any attention whatsoever. He finished with the bag then took a comb out of his back pocket and started running it through his impressively fluffy hair as he walked down the gangplank.

Barbara rolled her eyes and sighed as she stepped smartly onto the sidewalk. Why did she think even for a second that she'd be getting any support from Charles? It was like expecting support from a peacock! She, in turn, ignored him as she turned her eye to the island. It wasn't much to look at in her opinion, but then she'd been born and raised in the city. This was the first time she'd even taken a ferry. But, after her last... uh, unsuccessful assignment, when the bosses said jump, she'd better ask "How high?" until the fuss blew over. Maybe this time she could turn things around! After all, how many times would she get the chance to investigate two different stories at the same time?

She grinned and ran a hand through her stringy, damp, blonde hair. "Come on, Charles! We have some time for this fish festival starts. Let's poke around for a while!"

"Mammles," Charles mumbled.

"What?" she asked, giving him a bewildered glance.

Charles looked at her briefly before turning back to his hair. "Whales are mammals, not fish."

Barbara huffed in annoyance. "Fish, mammals, whatever. They are in the water and wet and do this every year, so I don't get what the fuss is about. Now stop playing with your hair and come on!"
 
Theo hadn’t even realized that he’d arrived just in time for Tranquility Cove’s annual whale festival, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. All along the street, shops and businesses displayed banners welcoming visitors and advertising “Whale Sales.” Volunteers handed out flyers advertising whale-watching tours and live music, and a parade route was roped off through Main Street for the next day’s Whaleboat Parade. Seeing all the tourists around, Theo figured that it would be prudent to go find lodging now, before it all filled up.

After a bit of exploring, he found himself at the Whalebone Inn, a cozy beachfront bed-and-breakfast that boasted the only vacant rooms on the entire island. At the front desk, he checked into a room and was relieved to find that the owner didn’t mind dogs.

“Besides,” said the proprietor, a chubby middle-aged woman with a perpetually pink face, “how could I turn this cutie away?”

She gave Clipper a pat on the head and handed Theo the key to Room 2. Clipper wagged his tail, staring up at the woman as though she had some food for him.

“Thanks,” said Theo. “By the way, do you happen to know this woman? Her name is Lucy Blair, she’s my cousin. I’m trying to find her.”

He pulled a polaroid photo of a slender young woman with bouncy golden curls from his pocket, showing it to the woman. Putting on her reading glasses, she squinted at the photo, then shook her head.

“No,” she said, “Can’t say I have. Never seen her before, and I’ve seen most everyone on this island.”
 
Barbara and Charles had to battle their way through the increasing throng to get to a halfway decent motel, or rather "inn" as the sign proclaimed it. It looked a little worn, but not like a place that would be riddled in lice. That was a hopeful sign, at least. Still, why couldn't the bosses have made reservations in anything better? Because she was the lowest man on the totem pole at the best of times, and after that event a couple of weeks back, she was lucky to be on the totem pole at all.

When they arrived at Whalebone Inn, she half fell through the door, muttering a couple of choice words that would get her a proper smacking on her perky bottom from her mother. "Is this the Whalebone Inn?" she demanded breathlessly, talking louder than normal because of the volume outside, as she shoved her frizzy hair out of her eyes. A dumb question considering the size of the sign outside, but it should catch the attention of whoever was manning the desk. "I have a reservation! Two!"

It was only after her loud proclamation that she realized this was not a motel at all. It was a rather quaint bed and breakfast, the woman was busy with some other guy, and there was a dog. Why was there a dog?
 
The sudden shout caused all three heads in the room to turn sharply, startled. Clipper stared up at the two newcomers, tongue hanging out in anticipation of pets. The proprietor eyed the two suspiciously for a long moment, glancing between the noisy woman and the skinny boy before nodding slowly.

“This is the Whalebone Inn alright,” she said. “Reservation for two, you say? Whose name is it under? Will you be taking two rooms or sharing one?”

Theo, being more used to life in the city, wasn’t nearly as taken aback by the sudden shouting. Still, it was strange to have some woman burst in and demand a room in a place like this. The island felt like the sort of place where things like that didn’t happen, where everyone was quiet and friendly. That was too much to expect, he supposed, especially around festival time.

“Are you two photographers?” asked the woman, looking at the bulky camera bags. “Come to take pictures of the festival, I suppose? Maybe you can help this fella here. Show them the photo, kid.”

Slightly embarrassed, Theo offered them the polaroid. The faded picture depicted a young blonde woman sitting on a park bench, with Clipper the dog curled up beside her.

“That’s my cousin,” he said. “Lucy Blair. She moved here a few months ago, and hasn’t been returning any of my calls. I’m trying to find her, make sure she’s ok. I’m Theo, by the way. And this is Clipper.”

He gestured to the dog, who raised his head at the mention of his name.
 
Barbara cleared her throat awkwardly as she adjusted her shoulder bag, a flush slowly creeping over her cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be yelling. It's really loud outside, and... anyway, right." She straightened up. "There should be two rooms booked under the company name, The Daily Herald. We're here to cover the whale festival... thing... and get some of the local color for our readers back on the mainland."

When the young man came forward to offer the picture, Barbara didn't even glance at it at first. "We've only just gotten here, so I don't know how we could poddibly help." But the guy - Theo - seemed borderline desperate when he spoke of his cousin, so she reluctantly took the picture and looked at it. "No, I don't recognize her, but if you have a copy, we can keep an eye out. Right, Charles?"

"Hmm?" Charles asked.

She turned to see him using the reflection of some sort of decorative plate to check his hair. "I said we could keep an eye out for this girl, right?"

He turned blankly and looked at the picture. "She's phat to the max, but I've never seen her before."

Barbara had to resist the urge to slap her palm to her forehead. Wordlessly, she handed the picture back before she could say something she'd regret.
 
This was the first time Theo had ever heard anyone describe Lucy as “phat to the max,” and he very nearly took the photo back. He restrained the urge, however, and waved for the reporters to keep it. Reporters went around talking to people, after all. Maybe they’d find someone who knew her. He needed all the help he could get, even if said help was loud or distracted.

“Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got copies. Just keep an eye out, maybe ask people if they’ve seen her? It’s not a very big island, she’s gotta be around here somewhere. Also, she’s married. Why’d the Daily Herald send you all the way out here, anyways? Are people really that interested in whales?”

“If you’re looking for a story,” interjected the inn’s owner, handing Barbara the two room keys, “You’d best get some rest while you can. The festival starts tomorrow morning, and you’ll be running yourselves ragged trying to cover everything just between the two of you. The island may be small, but we’ve got a lot of stories to tell.”

Clipper got up and walked over to Charles, sniffing curiously at the lanky boy’s shoes. Whatever he’d stepped in seemed to hold some interest for the dog.
 
Oh joy, islanders talking about whales. I wonder how many "the one that got away" stories I'm going to have to listen to from dirty old fishermen? Barbara thought, but she hid it all behind a smile. "I'm sure you do. The place is positively heaving with people! Everyone sure does love whales, especially people who can't see them." This was said to answer Theo's question.

"Er, why is the dog sniffing me?" Charles asked uncertainly. "He doesn't bite, does he?"

"I doubt it, otherwise he wouldn't be in here," Barbara pointed out blandly. She was just happy to see he was paying attention to something other than his hair. She held out a hand to Theo. "Barbara Winfrey. That's my cameraman, Charles. What's your cousin's name?"
 
“Unless you happen to be made of pepperoni,” said Theo, “Clipper doesn’t bite. You should pet him though, or he won’t leave you alone. Maybe you’ve got a sandwich in your pocket or something. Come, Clipper. Over here.”

He clicked his tongue and the dog returned to his side, sitting obediently at his feet. Theo gave him a pat on the head before returning his attention to the journalist, shaking her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Barbara,” he said. “Her name is Lucy Blair. Didn’t I say that? She’s married to a guy named Timothy, but I don’t have a picture of him. He looks...well, he looks kinda like your camera guy, but with a beard and big muscles. Late twenties, I think.”

In truth, Theo had never known his cousin’s husband very well. The two had gotten married quickly without a ceremony and had rushed off to this island almost immediately, likely in an effort to hide from his Aunt Marla.

“I never thought about whales much, myself,” he continued, “But I guess they must be important if the newspaper is sending you all the way here to report about them. Hey, I appreciate your guys’ help with Lucy. Lemme buy the two of you dinner as a thank-you.”

“Darling’s Diner across the street has the best lobster bisque in town,” chimed in the innkeeper, “although there haven’t been many lobsters around here lately. Probably something to do with the northern currents.”
 
"Better whales than that stupid Punxsutawney Phil on Groundhog's Day," Barbara mumbled.

"Dinner?" Charles said over Barbara's mutter. "Lobster bisque? That would totally rad! What time is-"

Barbara held up a hand to interrupt Charles. "Thanks for the offer, Theo, but we haven't done anything yet, certainly not worth dinner. Thank you, though. We-" she gave Charles a pointed look, "really should go to our rooms and get settled in, try to grab some candid shots, that sort of thing."

Charles looked as disappointed as Clipper being denied treats or pets, but he nodded with only a faint pout. "Candid shots. Right. But we do need to eat."

"Then after we get settled and grab some shots, we'll check out this Diner," Barbara promised. Small diners the world over were known to be places where one could learn the gossip of the town. Maybe they'd find something concerning her other self-appointed assignment. Not the whale thing.
 
“Come on,” said Theo, chuckling at how visibly disappointed the boy had become. “It’s no trouble at all. Besides, you can’t very well take photos on an empty stomach, now can you? I used to dabble in photography a little bit myself, so I’d know. You heard the lady, they haven’t been pulling many lobsters lately. We’d better get the lobster bisque before all the tourists eat it, huh? It’s a little chilly around here, some hot food will do us some good.”

Clipper perked up at the mention of food, staring expectantly up at his owner. Theo gave him a pat on the head, shushing him.

“I’m going to drop my stuff off in my room,” he said, “Then I’m going to dinner before ol’ Clipper here decides he’s better off seeking his fortune on a fishing boat. You two are welcome to come with, but if you’d rather go and take photos hungry, that’s your call. Come on, Clipper.”

He headed upstairs, dog at his heels. His room, like all the other rooms at the Whalebone Inn, was clean and cozy. The bed was covered in several layers of very warm quilts and comforters, with the TV set up perfectly across the room for comfortable viewing. A small writing desk sat against the wall beneath the window, which opened out to reveal a picturesque view of the beach and sea. After putting his few meager bags down, he headed back downstairs and left for the diner.
 
Barbara hesitated a moment while Charles looked at her pleadingly. "Oh, alright, fine. We'll join him," she said, rolling her eyes. "We need to eat. We'll see if he actually pays later."

"I'll take that deal!" Charles grinned. He bounded up ahead of her, noting with slight interest that his room was number three, and Barabra's was number one. He arrived just in time to see Theo entering his own room. Ha! They bookended him! He scampered into his own room, leaving the door open as he put his camera away.

Barbara followed Charles, feeling a bit like the stick in the mud of their duo, but she did not need to get involved with some guy who wouldn't take her seriously! She was a dedicated, well-trained reporter. She didn't need some guide taking over or some cute guy with a sob story distracting her from her ultimate goal. Although... if his sister... no, cousin... if his cousin had gone missing, perhaps he could help her out with her alternative story! But first, she had to deal with this stupid whale story. She couldn't mess it up. After Charles got the pictures, then she could grill these fish-brains until she got some answers.

She took several minutes to get ready, brushing out and taming her hair and changing into jeans and a new top with her jean jacket. It was informal, but she wasn't planning on getting in front of the camera today. That would be tomorrow. Finally ready, she met Charles out in the hallway. They scouted some good spots to video as much of the festivities as possible as they made their way to the diner. It was a small island, and for once, that was working in her favor. There were only so many major streets to get a parade or other festivities down.
 
The pair would find Theo seated outside at the diner, with Clipper lying on the ground beside him with a bowl of water. Spotting the pair of them, he grinned and waved them over, gesturing for the two journalists to sit down at the table. Clipper sat up to sniff at Charles’ shoes again, but laid back down at Theo’s command.

“Glad you two could make it,” he said. “Guess you didn’t want to try taking photos on an empty stomach, huh? It’s better this way, trust me.”

A waitress stepped out onto the patio and approached the table, a fake grin plastered across her face as she prepared herself to serve yet another group of mainlanders. Her expression lightened a little as she saw Clipper, but she made no move to pet him.

“Welcome to Darling’s Diner,” she said, “I’m Vi, and I’ll be serving you today. Today’s catch-of-the-day special is eel. You guys ready to order?”

“What kind of eel?” asked Theo, curious. He’d never had eel before, and hadn’t even realized that the slimy things were edible. The waitress seemed taken aback by his question, blinking at him in confusion for a long moment.

“Just...eel,” she said. “You know. Eel. Like a fish, but long? Look, do you want it or not?”

“No, I’ll take the lobster bisque,” he said, shaking his head. “How about you guys? Feeling adventurous? Remember, dinner’s on me.”
 
Charles sat one side of the table, watching the dog nervously. "Lobster bisque is as adventurous as I'm feeling, thanks, and water, please."

"I'd like a coke, and sure, I'll try some of that eel stuff," Barbara said with a shrug as she sat down. "Thanks." She looked at Theo. "You really don't have to pay, but I appreciate it."

"Uh, does the dog go everywhere?" Charles asked uncertainly, staring at the dog. "And why does it keep going after my shoes?"
 
Theo shrugged, giving the dog a pat on the head. Clipper always had been the curious type, although the curiosity occasionally got both dog and owner into trouble.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said. “Follows me around wherever I go. He’s a good boy though. As for your shoes...I dunno, maybe you stepped on a hot dog or something. Who knows? Dogs can be weird sometimes.”

The waitress appeared just a few moments later, bearing two bowls of soup and a plate of sliced eel. The thin “steaks” of eel were pitch black through and through aside from the bones at the center of each slice, and the whole dish seemed to ooze of some strange, bitter oil. A side of coleslaw sat beside the pile of oily eel slices, the familiar white blob standing in stark contrast to the strange black eel meat. Judging by the size of the slices, the eel must have been four or five inches in diameter in life. Theo glanced over at her plate, opening a packet of crackers.

“That’s certainly...something,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Interesting, at least. I wonder if it’s a local delicacy. Eels. Who would have thought?”

A pair of old men sitting at the next table glanced over, shaking their heads as the plate of eel was delivered. Judging by their clothes and by the vague stench of dead fish, they must have been fishermen by trade.

“There’s another one,” one grumbled to the other. “Trying to act like they’re food. It’s sad. My father would have thrown it back if he’d caught one of those damn things.”

“What can you do about it?” asked his partner. “Nothing in our nets but eels nowadays. Never knew there were so many eels in the sea.”
 
(I've actually had eel. Quite tasty, in my opinion, though I had mine with rice. Octopus, on the other hand...)

"Er..." Barbara stared at the eel for a bit. "This looks... good." She took her fork and knife to cut off a sliver of the eel. It was strange, and that was being kind.

Charles finally stopped staring at his shoes and looked at the eel, nonplussed. "You aren't going to eat that, are you? You'll be in the bathroom tossing your cookies until it's time to go home."

Barbara glared at him. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you, Charles?" She glanced at Theo and gave him a weak smile. "Well... Bottom's up!" She put the bite into her mouth before she could rethink the idea. It was salty and a bit rubbery, but all told not as horrible as she expected. The flavor seemed to change with each bite, slowly gaining a bitter taste. She definitely wouldn't be trying this again.

Then the words of the fishermen near them caught her ear. Hurriedly, she chewed up her eel and swallowed before grabbing her water. It took her another minute of clearing her throat before she was able to speak. "Excuse me," she croaked. "Er, excuse me, I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing. What do you mean the eels are trying to act like they are food?"
 
Theo watched dubiously as Barbara gamely tried the strange eel, glad that he’d chosen the perfectly normal and delicious lobster soup. Even Clipper seemed suspicious, sniffing at the air but not begging for a piece. The fishermen looked over, surprised that they’d been overheard, and chuckled dryly.

“I don’t know where you’re from, missy,” said one, his gravelly voice telling a tale of a pack-a-day habit, “but I don’t think I want to go there if that’s what you consider edible. We’ve been pulling up nets full of the damn things, but there’s not a soul in this town who would recognize those eels as food. Still, it’s not like we’re catching much else, so we make do. We come up with our own little recipes and tricks to try and make them palatable, but you can only put so much lipstick on a pig. Personally, my favorite recipe is brandied eel. Without the eel!”

He and his buddy broke into peals of laughter, which soon turned into coughing fits. It was a long minute before they managed to compose themselves, wiping their noses on napkins and lighting fresh cigarettes.

“You can’t disguise it, though,” he said, gesturing with his cigarette towards Barbara’s plate of eel. “Try as you might, it’s still an eel, and not one that any of us old-timers had seen before. It’s the strangest thing, I tell you. Never caught an eel in my life until six months ago, and then that’s all we catch. Probably has something to do with the currents.”

Shrugging, he returned his attention to his meal, which appeared to be cold crabs. The waitress appeared once more, stepping cautiously to avoid treading on the dog’s tail.

“How is everything?” she asked, looking pointedly at Barbara. “It’s all ok, I hope?”
 
Babara stared at her plate, paling a little at the sight of the sticky, oozing eel. They'd been bad enough before the fishermen had told her about them, but now? She looked up as the waitress returned. "Not really, no. Could you tell me why you serve these things to tourists if not even the locals are willing to eat them? It seems like that would put a damper on the tourist trade."

Discreetly, she pulled out a notebook under the table and kept it hidden, not even looking down as she scribbled, "6 months, weird eels, currents?" It was spidery and crooked, but she'd done this enough time she'd be able to decipher what she meant.
 
The waitress frowned at her, clearly unused to people actually complaining about the food. The eel glistened greasily in the fading sunlight, looking oilier and less appealing by the minute.

“It’s just the catch of the day,” said the waitress, after a pause. “We give it to everyone who orders it. What else are we supposed to do with them? Let them sit and rot? They’re still fish, and as far as we can tell they’re not actually poisonous. Besides, tourists sometimes have odd taste.”

Theo, meanwhile, barely heard her. He was enjoying his meal quite a bit more than the reporter was, and paused only to mull over something the fishermen had said.

“Six months,” he said, almost to himself. “That’s when I last heard from Lucy. What a coincidence.”

The waitress glanced down at him sharply at the mention of the name, but quickly returned her attention to Barbara.

“In any case,” she continued, “If you mainlanders don’t like the food, maybe you should have stuck to the mainland. That’s what my father always says, anyways.”
 
"Uh-huh... and I see your spectacular island fair is appealing mightily to the locals as well," Barbara said with a sweet smile and a nod toward the fishermen. "I was told these... fish... turned up about six months ago. Is this true?" She slid a five out of her purse and placed it very deliberately on the table, never taking her eyes off the waitress or losing her sweet smile. "Six months is awfully exact. Perhaps some other things started happening six months ago?" Another five appeared as if by magic, and she held it loosely in her hand. She didn't put it down on the table just yet. Her look was obvious. Answers to questions meant money, and at 5 dollars an hour - if she was getting paid even minimum wage - an extra ten or fifteen could go a long way.

Charles was ignoring the conversation. He was messing with his hair with one hand and holding his camera in the other. His lunch had long since vanished, and now he was taking pictures of Clipper and random decorations he could get a good angle on without leaving his seat. He absently adjusted his hair with a couple of pats then took a picture of a wooden whale getting drug down the street.
 
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