The Delphi Tapes: Blue Dolphin Motel
Episode 1
ORIGINAL AUDIO FOUND HERE.
*OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT*
This is Amber Carr. Today is August 2nd, and I just got checked in to the Blue Dolphin motel. There’s a leak somewhere I can’t seem to find. Hopefully this doesn’t pick up the dripping sound. Anyway, um, like I said, my name is Amber, and I just got to Delphi, Florida. I’m here on a Tarbell Grant for the next three months, investigating a statewide corruption scandal.
I guess I should share my first impressions before I get too into it. It’s hot, of course. I’m about as far from the coast as you can get in central Florida. Still very humid. There’s definitely some mold in my bathroom. Gary, my Uber driver, was friendly, in his own way. I didn’t tell him exactly why I’m here, just that I’m a writer looking to get away from the city. Told me to visit Boone Springs and ladies’ night at Paulies, heh.
I guess I should go into town today, start to get my bearings. I left a message with Representative Wiley’s Secretary, trying to set something up for later this week. That should give me enough time to interview some locals.
It’s two o’clock now. I’m gonna brave the moldy shower and rent a bike to head into town. There were a bunch of beach cruisers by the front office, but I only saw one car in the parking lot. I think I’m the only person staying at this motel.
*BEEP*
Ugh, this stings. I skinned my leg up pretty bad. Turns out there aren’t any street lights on the last, like, half-mile of Marshall Street. I’m gonna have to buy a headlamp.
It’s 10:30, and I just got back to my motel room. Downtown Delphi is pretty small. It’s not really arranged into blocks, more like a series of strip malls. I think the tax collector’s office used to be a Blockbuster. There’s a small diner, a tiki bar, and Paulies, an old dive. A few antique stores. A barbershop and an Ag-Pro. I thought there’d be more chain stores. There is a Waffle House and a Dollar General. And practically every strip has its own church. God isn’t dead—he just retired to Florida.
Paulies smells of old beer. There are group pictures going back decades on the walls and a mounted stag head stares at the liquor bottles on the top shelf of the bar. Tonight, a few men were quietly playing cards in the back, smoking, and one guy sat reading in the corner. It seemed like the kind of place that would be the heart of the community, and I wasn’t sure if it was dead because it was a Thursday or because the town has shrunk so much the last few years. I tried to chat up the bartender, Sam. She’s blonde, maybe early-forties, a pretty face and no-bullshit attitude. I started by asking how long she’d been working there. I’ll play our convo back now.
*BEEP*
“Oh, years. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Ahh. You better not be looking to take my job.”
“Oh, no. I mean—”
*LAUGHTER*
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get a feel for this place. I’m here for a few months for work.”
“You don’t look like a seasonal hand. What kind of work?”
“I’m a writer, just needed some place quiet to hunker down for a while.”
“Ohh. That still doesn’t make sense. Why’d you want to come to a place like this to write romance novels?”
“Heh, I’m not that kind of writer.”
“Well maybe you should be, you’d be able to run up a big old tab and give me a pretty tip.”
“You’ve got a point there. You know, when I told my friends I was coming down here, they said there was some big scandal with the mayor. I don’t pay much mind to politics or gossip, but I was curious…”
“A scandal? Haha. Barrow’s a maniac.”
“Really?”
“He’s got his buddies building ghost towns in the swamps. That’s what you heard, right? But every politician has some real estate scheme going. That’s no scandal.”
“Everyone? Do you think he’s doing this with any of the state reps?”
“Could be. I honestly don’t care. Do you?”
“Uh, I guess not. Just curious.”
“Hmm. I still think you’re trying to put me out of a job. Want another or should I close you out?”
“Heh, I’ll close out.”
“Here ya go. I hope you know I was just giving you a hard time. You’ll love Delphi once you get to know it.”
*BEEP*
And that was that. No one else at Paulies seemed interested in talking, so I road back with the setting sun, and ran my bike into a downed tree. Let me add that headlamp to my shopping list before I forget.
Alright. Well, if anyone has to be confident in my work, it’s me. But I can’t shake the feeling Sam’s right. No one cares anymore. Political scandals are just drama to gawk at, it gets clicks but no one actually gets booted from office, no one actually reforms anything. The Tarbell Society is one of the few organizations still offering grants for stories like this. They thought zeroing in on a small town and how its been drained by greedy politicians and developers would be a refreshingly “human” angle. But I need to unearth something huge, something completely unexpected, or this isn’t going to make any waves. I might as well go into the tabloid market and make some real money.
I think someone just knocked on the door. One sec.
“Hello?”
“How are you enjoying your stay, Ms. Carr?”
“Just fine, thank you for checking on me. Although I was wondering if you have any bleach, I think there’s some mol—”
“Are you sure you’re comfortable here? It can be dangerous for young women out on the road at night. It looks like you’ve already had a bit of a scrape.”
“Oh I was just being careless on the bike. The bike is fine, by the way, I made sure to lock it back up by your office.”
“Well, if you decide to leave, I’d be happy to refund you.”
“Okay, um, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight.”
The motel owner is a little odd. John Ricks is his name. I’m gonna use the door jam I brought when I lock up for the night. Small town charm, right?
Tomorrow I’ll try Wiley’s office again and see if I can get some property records out of the planning office. Maybe I’ll feel like more of a journalist while I’m pouring over stacks of paper zoning forms and maps. Or I’ll realize this is all pointless and spend the next three months sipping margs at Tiki Island and slowly shredding my journalism degree.
Sorry. That dripping sound is just driving me mad. None of the taps are leaking, and I don’t see any water spots in the ceiling. If it’s coming from another room, then the walls here are incredibly thin…I think I just need some sleep. See you tomorrow, Delphi.
*END OF TRANSCRIPT*
Thank you for reading Every Nook Uncanny. If you liked what you read, please share, like, and comment. You can follow Mae on Twitter.