Baja Florida by Bob Morris

for me. It means “lord of land and sea.” It’s what the Taino called Christopher Columbus after they were there to greet him when he landed on San Salvador. At first I was flattered that Boggy would give me such an illustrious title. I thought it demonstrated the great respect he had for me. Then it sunk in: Columbus and those who followed him brought the disease and violent colonization that wiped out the Tainos. Boggy was just being a smart-ass, displaying what I could only assume was the Taino penchant for mordant humor.
    â€œAnd what would Shula’s Taino name be?” I asked him.
    â€œNot now,” he said. “It will be revealed at the naming ceremony. Eight days from now.”
    â€œWhat if we aren’t back from the Bahamas by then?”
    â€œWe must be back by then, Zachary. We have no choice.”
    â€œLook, there’s a full moon every month. It doesn’t have to be this particular full moon, does it?”
    Our waiter arrived with Boggy’s appetizer and set it down in front of him. Boggy opened a bottle of hot sauce and splashed it on the oysters.
    â€œIt must be this full moon and no other,” Boggy said. “It is a moment in time that will never come again. If your daughter is not united at that precise moment with her spirit guide, she will be forever lost.”
    He slurped an oyster from its shell, washed it down with chocolate milk.
    â€œYa know, sometimes,” I said, “you really creep me out.”

10
    By the time we finished eating it was barely seven o’clock. Boggy went back to our room at the Mutiny. Said he needed some real sleep.
    It was way too early for me to turn in. I called the number for Abel Delgado that his wife had given me. No answer, no voice mail, no nothing. I asked the valet to bring the car. Time to pay one more visit to Delgado’s office.
    It had been several days since Gloria Delgado had heard from her husband. Maybe he had returned home. Maybe I’d find him toiling away at his desk, doing what ever it is private investigators do when they aren’t out investigating.
    It was worth a shot anyway. I didn’t want to head for the Bahamas the next morning looking for Delgado only to discover he was back in Miami.
    The main entrance to the office building was locked. I hung back and waited, trying not to make it look like I was hanging back and waiting. Tougher than it sounds. After a few minutes, a couple of guys in suits left the building and I slipped in behind them.
    I headed down the hall. A trash can propped open the door to Suite 121. The light was on inside.
    A woman in a blue house keeper’s uniform was vacuuming around the chairs in the small waiting area, oblivious to me standing in the doorway. Beyond her, the door to Delgado’s office was open and I could see his cluttered desk.
    â€œExcuse me…”
    The woman jumped and spun around, a hand to her chest. She was short, Hispanic, in her fifties.
    I smiled. She didn’t. She switched off the vacuum cleaner.
    â€œSorry,” I said, moving past her to the office. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
    I went behind Delgado’s desk and sat down in his chair. I began flipping through stacks of paper and looking at note pads.
    The woman studied me, uncertain.
    â€œI’ll just be a second,” I said. “Happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d pick up a couple of things. Don’t let me interrupt you.”
    â€œ Que, senor? ” she said.
    â€œ Un momento, ” I said. “No problemo.”
    The only other thing I remembered from high school Spanish was “ Yo tiene catarro, ” but I didn’t think she cared whether or not I had a cold.
    The woman backed out of the office and disappeared down the hall.
    The papers on Delgado’s desk were mostly bills. Nothing I found made any reference to Jen Ryser.
    A red light flashed on Delgado’s answering machine. I pressed