The Butterfly Forest

FOURTEEN

Max sat up, and then jumped to the floor once she recognized who had stepped in the cockpit. Dave Collins, a cocktail in hand, grunted as he walked across the transom. “Well, hello, lass. It’s about time you brought Sean back here. I trust you let him drive, did you not?” Max wagged her tail and licked the condensation that splashed from Dave’s glass to the teak floor. “Cheers, gentlemen.” Dave raised his glass and added. “Mr. O’Brien, are Mr. Cronus and I the only ones with adult beverages?”

“You two are always one ahead of me,” I said, stepping to the galley and getting a beer. I returned to my barstool as Dave sat on couch. He looked younger than his sixty-five years. Smooth, tanned face. Burly chest. Wide forehead. His thick white hair often was disheveled because he wore his bifocals on top of his head. His blue eyes were curious, filled with intellect and a hint of mystery. Formally employed by the U.S. government, his time overseas, learning languages and people, gave him a stage to appreciate art, fine wines, cultures and the food the various customs produced.

Dave sipped from his drink, swallowed musingly and then looked up at me. “So, tell us, what the hell happened. Seems like when I want to hear the news from our part-time marina friend, we have to catch the infamous Sean O’Brien on the local television news, or read what’s left of a daily newspaper. A phone call to keep us simple marina folks apprised would be courteous on your part and most appreciative on ours.”

Nick nodded and said, “I’ll drink to that. Kim told me what happened from seeing it on the news, too.” Max crawled up on the sofa between them.

“I was coming over here to work on Jupiter when it went down. Happened in a matter of seconds in the Walmart parking lot. I stunned the perp, but not long enough. He recovered quicker than I would have thought. Getaway was on a Harley. Media showed, and then you, Dave, called me later to tell me Soto was ticketed.”

Dave grunted and added, “Do they have anything further on Soto?”

“It wasn’t a random attack.”

“Oh?” Dave cocked an eyebrow.

“No.” I told them about the tattoo and how Molly and some kids had spotted it on Soto in the butterfly rainforest at the university. “They said the tat looked like a fairy with the body of a woman wearing butterfly wings. That matches what I saw.”

“Fairy? You mean like Tinker Bell?” Nick asked, a smile spreading.

“More of an adult version. A fully developed nude woman with butterfly wings.”

Dave said nothing, his brow furrowing. Nick took a pull from his beer and said, “So this crazy dude has Tink on his arm, naked. What kinda guy goes around with tattoo of a fairy, huh?”

“Did you see any other tattoos?” Dave asked.

“That was the only one I could identify. There was some ink at the base of his neck and on the other arm, but I couldn’t see it well.”

Dave glanced out the open sliding glass doors to the cockpit. A breeze was blowing the scent of ocean salt air into the salon. “Maybe he’s wearing it because the tattoo symbolizes some kind of an event in his life. Could be similar to a souvenir. Can you remember if it looked fresh, maybe some bruising around it, or redness from the sub dermis caused by the needle?”

“It did look like there was a slight redness around it. I didn’t know if it was because of the impact I delivered to him, or something else.”

“Maybe the skin art’s new,” Dave said.

Nick grinned and said, “Could be the dude went to Disney World. Got high on titmouse punch and fantasized that he saw Tink flyin’ around with a boob job.” He laughed so loud Max cock her head and moved closer to Dave. “What’s wrong, little hotdog, you think Nicky has fish breath? I gargle with ouzo.”

Dave said, “It could have been inspired by some event he attended, maybe something like the big Fantasy Fest they have in Key West each October at Halloween.”

“Lots of fairies down there,” said Nick, draining the last of his second beer.

Dave glanced at Nick, smiled and shook his head. “I’m always amused at your perspective. The Halloween parade in Key West has a certain Pagan-like feel to it, I hear. The holiday is the best known of those with a Pagan theme.”

I looked at the calendar above the galley bar counter. “You may be on to something, Dave. A few days ago, it was summer solstice, the longest day of the year. It’s a time of ancient rituals tied back to most of Europe. I recall something about Midsummer Eve festivals, which included fairy dances.”

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, man, but that stuff was hundreds of years ago. That’s why they call ‘em fairy tales. Today, we got topless bars.”

Dave said, “It may have begun hundreds of years ago, but in some places, it continues today. Ancient spots on the planet, like Stonehenge, were believed to be built to tie into summer solstice. In the case of Stonehenge, it was most likely the monument’s perspective to the sun. It’s the longest day of the year, the shortest night, and the first day the sun begins moving away on its journey south. Sean’s correct. Midsummer Eve’s dancing fairies is all part of the fairy tales, as you suggested. One of the greatest, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, was penned by Shakespeare.” Dave, slipping into his poker face, looked at Nick and said, “It was about fairies and Greeks.”

“That’s why I don’t read that stuff,” he went into the galley for another Corona.

I thought about the tattoo on Soto’s arm and why he chose to get it. “Where might there have been a Midsummer’s Eve festival in Florida a few days ago?”

Dave said, “Usually they’re associated with bonfires, dancing and a little good-natured carousing at the traditional levels. Lots of places across the nation have them. There’s a big one in New York’s Battery Park. On the other hand, with the darker, deep Pagan celebrations, you’d probably find them in very isolated places.”

I said, “The most remote spot near Gainesville is the Ocala National Forest, hundreds of thousands of desolate acres, many not accessible by car. Part of the eastern boundary is across the river from my old house. That’s where the swamps begin.”

“But,” Dave said, rubbing Max’s head, “as you know, that’s only one tip of the forest. It stretches over a couple of counties, lots of lakes, scrub pines, places so thick you can’t see the sun, and there are some of the world’s most beautiful springs in there. I read the forest is almost a half million acres.”

“Yeah,” said Nick coming back to the couch. “If one of these Pagan tribes had a fairy dance in there, how in the hell would you find it in a gazillion acres?”

I smiled and said, “At a tattoo shop.”