The doorway opened into a spacious waiting area, with a sparkling white ceramic floor and a desk that would have been worthy in a brand-new Holiday Inn. At least a Holiday Inn.
A curt voice asked, “Can I help you?”
An Asian girl in a white smock and shoulder-length coal-black hair sat behind the reception desk, never looking up, working her keyboard at 120 words per minute.
“Do you have any history on this building?”
She looked up, disdain apparent on her face.
“History? I’ve been here six months. Does that qualify as history?”
It honestly didn’t. “Is there someone here who can take me back to nineteen thirty-five?”
Maria Sanko appeared beside me, punching her elbows into my rib cage. She obviously wasn’t happy that I’d shut the door in her face. And that I wasn’t sharing the entire story with her.
“Doctor Malhotra would probably know the history of the property.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“I’m sort of busy here.” Evidently not happy with my request, she looked back at her computer screen, and I gazed around the empty waiting area. She didn’t seem that busy to me.
“Ma’am, I’ve driven quite a ways. I’m searching for the history of a relative. I would sure appreciate it if-”
“Oh, all right. I’ll see if he has any time.” She waved her arm at us. “I suppose you can have a seat.”
We did.
Dr. Malhotra walked out about five minutes later, a distinguished Indian-American guy with brushed back salt-and-pepper hair, a neatly trimmed graying beard and mustache, a dark complexion, and a white doctor’s coat.
“Hello.” A slight accent.
He studied us with a stern look on his face. “How can I help you? Veronica said you wanted some history on this building?”
“Yeah. I’m looking for the history of a relative back in the thirties and I think this property may play a part in that history.”
“I started this practice in 1999. But the building has been in my wife’s family since maybe the late forties, early fifties.”
I glanced around at the opulent interior with expensive-looking chairs and sofas, ornate wooden coffee tables, and elite magazines like
“Doctor,” Maria smiled at him, “I’m Maria Sanko. I’m a realtor here in Islamorada.”
He nodded.
“Is this the property where the Coral Belle Hotel used to sit?”
He folded his hands in front of him.
“You’re the third person to ask that in the last month.”
“Really?” We both said it together.
“Really.”
“Is it?” I needed the answer.
“No.”
“Oh.” I knew I sounded disappointed. This would have been so easy. The hotel foundation would be here, we bring a shovel at night and-
“Do you know where the Coral Belle was?” Maria kept digging.
He nodded his head. “It was on the water. The property right behind this building, right across the old highway. Next to the Ocean Air Motel.”
“What’s on that property now?”
“Nothing.”
“There’s a boat dock there. That’s it. You can see that from the water or the beach at the Ocean Air.”
“So we can walk back there and-”
“It’s fenced and locked.”
“The empty property, right?”
Again he nodded his head yes.
“Well, do you know who owns it?”
“I do.” He’d folded his arms across his chest, staring at me.
“Great. If you could just give us a name-”
“I own it, my friend. Now, unless you’d like to make a medical appointment with Veronica, I’m going to ask you to leave.”
With that he spun around and walked back into the offices.
Maria gave me a questioning look.
“Well. That went well.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
James was waiting in front of the station when I pulled up in the truck. He got in the on passenger side and didn’t say a word.
“We’re going to take a trip down to a motel on the beach. There’s a property there you’re going to find interesting, James.”
He was biting his lower lip, staring straight ahead.
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“No.”
“Hey, bright side. You’re free and we’re still employed. I checked with the front desk. They’re comping us a second room. We both get a room and one’s got a kitchenette. Pretty cool.”
He didn’t smile.
“We’re moving up in the world, James.”
Turning left just before The Vein Care Center clinic, we crossed Old Highway and pulled in at the Ocean Air. Motel apparently wasn’t the appropriate word. The sign said Ocean Air Suites. A forty-something guy with short hair and an earring stood on the white porch, watching us get out of the truck. Slowly walking to the oil-guzzling truck, he approached me.
“We were thinking of maybe staying here sometime in the next couple of months. Thought we might check the place out.”
He kept staring at us.
“So, I wondered if we could just maybe take a quick look at the beach down there? Just a quick look.”
He nodded. “You understand it’s for guests only?”
“Just going to look. We’ll be right back.”
“Okay, then.” He didn’t sound happy about it. “You see it, then you come right back, you hear?”
James and I walked down the shell-covered path, heading toward the ocean. In the distance I could make out several wooden deck chairs and a tiki hut with a grass roof.
“So what are we going to see?”
I pointed to my right, where a tall metal fence ran the entire length from the road to the water. Trees, orange-flowering bougainvillea, and high grass blocked any view of the property next door.
“We’re hopefully going to get a view of that property.”
“And why are we doing this?”
“We might want to come back some night this week and bring a shovel.”
James’s eyes opened a little wider. “So, you found it already.”
“I did.”
