Salty and Cara: ‘The Blue Dew’, Episode 5
Twisted turns and loose ends can be dangerous. What has our smart hero gotten himself into?
Don Tomatoni remained silent throughout the voyage. He stood next to the boatsman. A weathered zucchini in a dark naval coat and hat who could barely be contained by the comfortable cabin height. The mobster seemed a little tense, or maybe focused, as he looked straight ahead through the front window.
Salty had quit considering his options. He would just have to wait where they stopped and plan his actions from there.
When they finally arrived, his hopes plummeted. The area was a huge lot, far from any other houses or traffic. No way out of here.
But then Don Tomatoni approached him and invited him friendly to go ashore. On the other side, he led the way across the site, the boatsman following at the back of the small group. They stopped at an abandoned warehouse, and Don Tomatoni pulled a set of burglar tools from the pocket of his coat. He gave a crooked smile: “It’s always good to be prepared.”
It took only a few routine moves and the big door opened.
‘Why does he have to break into his own warehouse?’, Salty wondered, ‘So he can make it look like he caught me and killed me in justifiable self-defense?’
“Are you coming, Cumberman? We don’t have much time. They will be back soon. And I’d rather not be seen here when the official vegs come in. I’m sure you understand.” The tomato looked truly concerned.
Slowly, Salty stepped into the large compound. After his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he could clearly make out some kind of laboratory. Makeshift, but still quite professional. The place where the poison was produced. But why…?
His unexpected chauffeur had already turned to leave, followed by the tall sailor: “Gio found this and thought I should show it to you. We don’t want any more kids getting killed, do we?”
“No, …”, Salty did not get to finish his reply because he was alone. A quick glance was enough to know that this was the jackpot. He needed to get official back up here as soon as possible. But when he stepped outside, there was no one around. Finally he saw light in a small office at the edge of the area. He ran to it, wanting to make sure the evidence was still there when he got back.
An old pumpkin in security clothes was sitting at a desk, sorting papers: “Is something wrong, my veg? You seem pretty upset.”
“No time to explain,” the young investigator gasped, “could you just call the police and tell them to meet me at the first warehouse on the north end? I’m Quentin Cumberman. They know me.”
“Sure thing, mister, will get right on it.”
“Thank you,” and Salty was out the door again, rushing back to the big warehouse with the lab.
Just a few minutes after he had returned and started going through the material and papers on the spot, he heard a group of people at the entrance. It could not be the police yet, so these were probably the crooks coming back to the scene, as Don Tomatoni had indicated before. He cussed and hid behind a collection of crates in the background.
“Better make this quick …”, he heard, “I just got a tip, the rollers are coming any minute. “Oh no!” said another, “But we have to pack everything up and get rid of the stuff that links us and the boss to this thing.”
And the crew started moving boxes around. From his hiding place, Salty could only make out a huge melon. His purple-green skin was a grim map of vicious encounters, and he had obviously survived all of them. But there were probably three or four more from the roukus they were making.
“Hey, Mel…”
“I told you not to call me Mel. It’s like calling you all V-Egg. The name is Krick.”
“Oh yeah, like that big fighter. You’d better call me ‘Berg’ – that’s my real name. I hate that V-Egg stuff too.”
“Sure you do. Are you from a family of fighters or coat makers?”
“Fighters all the way back to the first bud.”
“Yeah, I can see why the boss wanted you on this thing.”
After the lot had taken out about a third of the material on site, Salty made a decision. He had to slow them down or all would have been for nothing.
“I was wondering,” he began, as he stepped out from behind the box tower, “why …?”
The melon and a huge eggplant with the same body ornate as his mate grinned at him: “Oh, hello. There you are … .”
An old pumpkin in security clothes was sitting at a desk, sorting papers: “Is something wrong, my veg? You seem pretty upset.”
“No time to explain,” the young investigator gasped, “could you just call the police and tell them to meet me at the first warehouse on the north end? I’m Quentin Cumberman. They know me.”
Side Notes:
- Melons are not commonly bred and raised in New Valley. They come from ‘Big Valley’, a larger valley higher up in the mountains. The rivers and canals of New Valley get their water supply from a large freshwater lake in Big Valley, which also has a significantly warmer and moister climate. You could call it ‘tropical’. So Big Valley ist the original home of the ‘tropical’ fruits and those that are usually considered classic ‘summer fruits’ by those of my readers who currently live in the moderately warm geographical sections of our world (like me).
And yes, most of these melons actually have a name that includes the three letters M, E, and L. For example, ‘Tormeldon’, ‘Melander’, ‘Melaurel’, and – very popular with young female melons – ‘Melody’. Therefore, the term used to refer to any melon would be ‘that Mel’. The Melons who come to New Valley tend to take security jobs, as their physique or that of their pumpkin relatives would suggest. Since their social connections are usually not as good as those of the ‘homebreeds’, these jobs often take place in the shadier parts of day and town. Not surprisingly, some of these workers tend to be a bit aggressive towards their better-off cousins. - The Eggplant community is a very fascinating tribe. They originally live high in the mountains and only come down to a valley to work or trade. The best tailors are from Aubergine backgrounds. Especially those who make clothing for security personnel (private guards and soldiers) and the police. These have a leathery feel to them and provide very good protection against the most common weapons at hand.
The Eggplants form a rather traditional group, with members tending to stick to their own kind. They are said to be very good at keeping secrets. Some of these secrets, according to myth, include a formula to extend the life of a fruit indefinitely. All attempts to access this knowledge, or to find the origin of the myth to prove it wrong or right, have so far failed. The eggplant community still has produced some very promising scientists who work as researchers and professors at the university.
Moreover, these fruits are generally a very tough type. For this reason, another common profession in this group, besides tailoring, is mercenary.
Missed the last episode? Here it is [ I< ] And what happens next? Find out [ >I ]
You have no clue, what is going on at all? Here is how it all started: [‘Salty and Cara. The Crime Story‘]
Needless to say, the stories about Salty and Cara are pure figments of my imagination. No resemblance to any person or place – present or past – is intended. But I am sure you have already figured that out 😉