The Grand Pineda

by Audie A. Murphy

Table of Contents
Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

It was in the spring of 1928, the old man began, settling into the story, and the Grand Pineda was nearly booked solid. An unusually cold winter up north and a flu epidemic in south Florida had created scores of affluent refugees who had flocked to the pristine beaches of Cape Canaveral.

Among those visitors were film star Valerie Vargas and her current boyfriend and manager, radio crooner Anthony Diamond.

They were an odd couple in more ways than one. Valerie, who had been born Estelle Williams in a small town in Ohio, had arrived in Hollywood only two years before looking for work as a voice coach and studio pianist. She was spotted by a talent scout looking for fresh faces and became a star almost literally overnight.

Along with fame came the usual parade of escorts and gigolos. Diamond, at 33 a decade older than she, was the latest. He was a marginal performer who was more notorious for his libertine lifestyle than for the saccharine ballads he warbled on the radio. In Valerie he had stumbled onto a gold mine, and he knew it. What’s more, he let everyone else know it, too.

Even so, she seemed to have fallen in love with him, and rumors had begun circulating that she planned to abandon her career for marriage and motherhood.

But Diamond was not ready to settle down, and the couple often argued. Sometimes Valerie appeared in public with bruises she couldn’t or wouldn’t explain.

Their behavior at the Grand Pineda had only added to the speculation about their relationship. From the moment they had emerged from their chauffeured automobile they had been at odds with each other, and Diamond soon earned a reputation among the staff for obnoxious behavior.

He often berated the bellboys and waiters, and loudly voiced his discontent with the hotel in general.

“What are we doing up here in the swamps?” he once demanded of Valerie in a tone that startled other guests nearby. “I’d rather take my chances with the flu in Miami. At least they have a real city there.”

But on one memorable night the radio star went too far: He shocked hotel staffers and guests alike by insulting the hotel’s beloved Jamaican cook, Big Rose. Those who witnessed the event, including Winston Broadhurst himself, later said Diamond’s behavior in that episode was more despicable than ever.

After sampling a bowl of Big Rose’s famous seafood gumbo, the half-drunk crooner had tossed the dish to the floor.

“I won’t eat this swill,” he had growled to Valerie across the table.

The gesture had stunned the onlookers not only because the gumbo was widely hailed as the best in the state but because Big Rose was an institution at the hotel. To disrespect her that way was unthinkable.

Valerie, deeply embarrassed, asked Diamond to apologize for his behavior, but her words seemed to anger the singer even more.

“Bring me a steak, if you people can cook one without turning it into charcoal,” he had snarled at the waiter.

At that moment, the dining room fell silent, and Diamond looked up to see Big Rose herself bearing down on him.

At six feet tall and nearly three hundred pounds, the cook’s size alone was intimidating, but she also had Diamond targeted with an angry glare that could have melted stainless steel.

Instead of going for the man’s throat, though, the Jamaican woman slowed as she approached, then stopped a few yards away from him and raised the large soup ladle she held in her right hand.

“Baka,” she said, slowly swinging the ladle to indicate the restless ocean beyond the dining room windows. “Baka.”

Then she turned and marched back to the kitchen.

Diamond was puzzled, but relieved that he had emerged from the confrontation unscathed. He started to say something boastful to Valerie, but was interrupted by a young black woman, a hotel worker who had been clearing tables nearby. She stopped at his table, leaned toward him and hissed, “You have much trouble now. Baka bad ’ting, very bad ’ting.”

Then she hoisted her tray of dirty dishes onto her shoulder and walked quickly out of the room.

Diamond laughed off the incident, but Valerie, who was furious at him, got up without a word and returned to their suite.

Broadhurst, who had watched the incident from a seat at the bar, soon joined Diamond. “That was really too much,” he told the singer angrily. “Big Rose has been with this hotel since the day it opened, and I won’t have her treated that way. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with the gumbo. I tried it and it’s excellent, as usual. ”

Diamond, having had his tantrum, was now apologetic. “All right, all right, I was out of line,” he said “I’ll send Big Rose a note of apology and include a few bucks to smooth her feathers.”

“How generous of you,” Broadhurst said dryly. He started to get up but thought better of it and sat back down. “There is something else, Mr. Diamond. Big Rose is not just a great cook. She also is a skilled practitioner of voodoo. You have heard of voodoo, haven’t you?”

Diamond laughed. “Sure I’ve heard of it. They sacrifice chickens and try to raise the dead. I don’t believe any of that and you don’t either.”

“Maybe not,” Broadhurst said, “but I respect those superstitions because I have seen their power over people. You may not realize it, but Big Rose invoked a particularly nasty spirit against you, the Baka. Supposedly it can take any form and appear anywhere.”

“Like I’m supposed to be scared of that,” Diamond said.

“Well, it might be wise to avoid strangers and dark alleys for a while,” Broadhurst said.

Diamond looked at him skeptically, not sure whether to take him seriously. “Surely you’re joking,” the singer said.

Broadhurst laughed and stood up. “Of course I am,” he said. “Just please be more courteous to my staff in the future. They work hard and deserve our respect. Goodnight for now, and give my regards to Miss Vargas.”

Later that night the full moon rose like a Japanese lantern over Florida’s sand dunes and palm trees. Valerie asked Diamond to accompany her for a walk on the beach and, after some grumbling, he agreed.

They had the stretch of white sand to themselves and walked with their arms around each other.

“I had an ulterior motive in asking you to come out here tonight,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided to take a break from my movie career, at least for a while.”

Even before she finished the sentence, she felt Diamond’s body tense with anger. Suddenly he whirled, grabbed her shoulders and began shaking her like a rag doll. “You must be out of your mind,” he hissed. “You’re not quitting anything. We’ve come too far to throw it all away now. If you think...”

Before he could finish the sentence, a disturbance erupted in the surf, a kind of roiling upheaval that lifted tons of water into the air as a massive and formidable creature lunged onto the beach. Valerie would say later that she had never seen anything like it, not even in her worst nightmares: the scaly hide, the burning eyes, the huge teeth glinting in the moonlight.

She fainted.

When she regained consciousness a few minutes later, the creature was gone and so was Diamond. Only a tattered and bloody remnant of his shirt remained.

“And that,” said Robert, raising his wine glass and waving it in a gesture of finality, “is the story of Valerie Vargas, who packed her bags and left the hotel that same night. Broadhurst heard some years later that she had moved back to Ohio and married her high school sweetheart. She never returned to Hollywood, and poor Diamond was never heard from again.”

Robert fell silent, and Meg and Tom put down their forks and clapped briefly.

“Well done,” Meg said.

After a few more minutes of conversation with the older couple, Meg and Tom finished their food and thanked their hosts for the meal and the hospitality.

“We have to get on the road early tomorrow, so we’ll say goodnight,” Tom said as he and his fiancee stood up and pushed their chairs back under the table.

Then Meg glanced out the window and noticed that the rain had stopped and a full moon was rising. “Tom, let’s go for a walk on the beach,” she said. “It will be fun.”

Tom looked at her nervously as she took his arm and led him from the room.

When they were gone, Mavis leaned close to Robert and patted his hand. “Every time you make up a story about that picture, it’s better than the one before,” she said.

“Thank you, my love,” he replied. “I’m sure my mother wouldn’t mind. She had such a dull life as a librarian in Chicago, and she always dreamed of becoming a movie star. I like to think that, in my own small way, I have helped make her dream come true.”