'Pink Paradise'

 

Chapter 22

‘PINK PARADISE’

 

The ‘Pink Paradise’ was even more lit up than usual. The club had two windows which had iron bars instead of glass, due to the frequent fights in the past which had left the floor smothered in broken glass. The club generally lived off the money made from the usual customers at the weekends. During certain times of the year special nights were organized with contests, fancy dress, the twenties, historical moments on the island. The name of the party was different but the result was always the same: drunkenness, fights, men going off with unknown women, till the cold light of dawn woke them up sufficiently to make them return to their every-day wife.

In front of a small stage, there was a group playing tropical music like the mambo, the samba, and the rumba. The place itself was rather small, which helped to create an intimate atmosphere. The lights were pink, all the decoration was in different shades of pink. Inside giant cages there were parrots, monkeys and cockatoos. One of the corners looked like a scene from a tropical jungle with snakes and colourful birds. Due to the agglomeration it was impossible to sit at one of the tables without rubbing legs with the person sitting on the other side. This, sooner or later, led to the game of hands under the table. The men who went to the ‘Pink Paradise’ frequently went there for just one thing and nearly always they got it. The ashtrays were in the shape of a fish and were spread out all over the place and on top of small shelves.

The nocturnal activities were divided into several parts. During the first two or three hours the customers got friendly with the waitresses, or with female clients, they danced and drank until they couldn’t any more. The sweat stuck the men’s shirts to their bodies, and the women had a continuous stream of sweat running down their faces, then the neck, which ended up slithering down the neckline. It was the ideal moment for a show.

 

On the night of the show for the ‘Miss Honey Girl” an entertainer dressed like a fish appeared on stage to animate the public, make them laugh, relax, ready to meet the contestants.

“The answer to the scales, look at the suit,” the doctor said to Irving. The two men, with Filo, were standing near the entrance, it was impossible to get any closer.

His  performance consisted of shooting out flames from his mouth in an imitation of what was supposed to be the sacred fire fish. The club was filled with smoke and Filo took his sunglasses out from his shirt pocket, “Smoke annoys my eyes,” Filo said to the other two men.

It was then that Irving realised what he had wanted to say to Camette. As she wasn’t present she couldn’t receive the news, so the doctor got it instead. Irving nudged him and said, “Look at  Filo. Who does he remind you of?”

The doctor observed Filo discreetly for a while. “Osman, the curator.”

“I noticed the similarity between them the day when Camette and I went to the museum. I think they are brothers.”

“There’s no doubt. But there’s something I don’t understand, and for sure there’s something fishy going on. Sshh. They are about to celebrate the contest,” whispered the doctor.

There weren’t many participants for the election of ‘Miss Honey Girl’, and they were already a little tipsy. To show off the their tans better they wore no more than a g-string covering their nether region. They walked through the crowd towards the stage, with some hairy hands trying to touch them on their way. They went up the steps and onto the stage, and between whistles and shouts they had to parade their tanned charms. Where the band was playing earlier, Matina was presiding at a table with a six man jury. Their job was to time the audience’s applause for each contestant in turn.

The animator presented each girl in turn, and asked the audience to show their appreciation with applause which would be timed. When the noise had died down, he said, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, a true honey girl herself, Matina, is going to present the prizes, with the help of the manager of the ‘Golden Palms’ hotel.

Matina, wearing a diaphanous green tunic, began to give out the prizes in reverse order, as they were announced by the manager. A man sitting at a table near the stage, caught hold of the tunic and wrenched it from Matina’s leathery body. She turned round and went to hit him but the man was much stronger and quicker then her, grabbed her, and had the audacity to kiss her. Everything happened in seconds and then some joker switched off the electricity, putting out the lights and leaving the club in complete darkness. From the following it could be deduced that every man was trying to get a girl: screams, broken bottles, chairs thrown to the floor, and lascivious grunts, dominating the darkness.

Irving and the doctor made their escape through the door, leaving Filo in the affray.

“Did you notice that Gus and Don were inside?” Irving asked.

“I’m not worried about those who are inside but those who are outside. Where are Osman and Jorge?”

“With Amanta, I suppose.”

“I know, but where?” Doom asked looking around.

 

Walking, almost running, they went straight back to the hotel. Suddenly, they heard the movement of the sea, it had become turbulent. “The sea was the same on the night of the other ritual,” Irving said.

“If only we were in the temple at this moment,” lamented the doctor. “We must get back there as soon as we can to have a look.”

The hotel swimming pool looked like the sea. The water, normally almost at the same level as the top of the sides was splashing over the edge. On the surface there were little waves that looked impossible. There was water all over the walkway around the pool.

It reminded Irving of the temple floor, “There was water like this around the central stone. Do you remember? I told you.”

“Yes, I remember.”

 

Everyone else in the hotel was asleep when the two men said goodnight in the lift. Irving went to open the door to his room but his intuition stopped him. The unforgettable smell of fish reached his nose. That smell belonged to only one person Osman!

Camette! She could be in danger. He rushed to her room and banged on the door.

Camette had spent an awful day and she wasn’t in the mood to be woken up by someone banging on her door at such an anti-social hour. “Who is it?” she grumbled through the door without opening it.

“It’s me, Irving. I’ve got to talk to you,” he said quietly.

“Now?”

“It’s urgent.”

“You certainly do choose some strange times to have a chat. You haven’t spoken to me all day. You preferred to talk to the doctor.”

“I’m sorry, but please open this door.”

Camette opened the door and Irving hurried in closing it behind him. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, I was asleep but now you have ruined my night. What’s the matter? What are you looking for?”

Irving was looking inside cupboards, under the bed, in drawers, behind the curtains and on the balcony. “There’s a strong smell of fish in my room just like Osman smells. I was afraid for you.”

“Irving, are you really interested in me?”

“Of course I am, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“Stay here. You can sleep in the armchair, tomorrow we’ll investigate the smell together.”

“Very well.”

 

Meanwhile in his room the doctor was on the telephone to Irving’s friend. “Do the hieroglyphics speak about the return of a fish? …. But when? …. Some time soon! Just a second, let me write things down. What else have you discovered? …. Did you know the nose of the plane was covered in smoke. …. The two pilots are no longer on the island, they must have seen something they weren’t supposed to. .… Yes, I know. …. Very well. .… Is what I’ve told you clear? …. I think it’ll be all over before long. The mystery will soon be solved.”

And in this way the doctor finished his conversation.