Relic

by Bill Noel

  “I grew up in Topeka, Kansas. Mom was from there. Dad was from a tiny, tiny town you’ve never heard of near Kingston, Jamaica. My parents are no longer with us. It is my understanding that you are Teddy’s only living family.”

  Theo shook his head. “Teddy has an uncle. My brother, Salvadore, lives with me.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. Teddy didn’t mention him.”

  Theo tapped his fingers harder on the table. “Of course, he didn’t. Probably didn’t remember him. He would’ve had to stay in contact with his family to know about such things.”

  Grace lowered her head. She didn’t need more grief from Theo, so I moved the conversation to more positive topics. “Charleston is a beautiful city. How long will you will be visiting?”

  She looked at Theo. In a low, singsong voice said, “I’m moving here.”

  “For good,” Theo said.

  “Mr. Stoll, I couldn’t stay in California. Our restaurant, the business that Teddy and I built from scratch, the business we had another partner in before he stole most of our profits before absconding, went under. Teddy died there. I have nothing but bad memories from California. I tried, but couldn’t remain there. I know no one in Kansas who is still living. I never got to know any of Dad’s relatives in Jamaica. Truth be told, I’ve never been to Jamaica.” She hesitated then continued. “I thought I could know at least one person here and open my food truck. Perhaps it was a mistake to think that.”

  Theo waved his arm around the room. “Will you stay here?”

  “I wish. This is a lovely place. The bed felt so good last evening. My resources are limited, so I will be staying in my truck until I’ve saved enough to find an apartment. Thank you for asking.”

  In the Pollyanna world in which Charles resides, the one I occasionally visit, this would be where Theo offers Grace a room at his house which is ten times larger than he needs. Even though Sal is there, he has extra bedrooms collecting dust. I know him to be a kind, compassionate, trusting soul, regardless of today’s behavior.

  Theo nodded to Grace. “You’ve spent several nights in it, so I suppose it’s comfortable. With your experience, you should be able to find business for your food truck.”

  She smiled, something I wouldn’t have been able to muster under similar circumstances. “That’s what I’m counting on. Do you know if they grant food trucks permission to set-up on the island where you live?”

  There are a couple of food trucks that have seasonal locations on Folly, although I didn’t know anything about the requirements for operating one. I also realized I had no idea what Grace sold out of her truck.

  “Grace, there’ve been a couple. What type of food do you sell?”

  “We, umm, I’ve tried several things. It’s been hit or miss. Hamburgers didn’t do as well as anticipated. Sub sandwiches fell flat. Our niche seems to be hot dogs. Not just run of the mill mustard, or ketchup on hot dogs. I sell fifteen combinations, ranging from the traditional Chicago-style dog, to one I call the ‘everything but the kitchen sink dog.’ ”

  She looked at her watch. “You must be terribly busy, so I don’t want to keep you. Besides, the hotel privileged me with a late check-out time, so I need to start moving out. Mr. Stoll, umm, Mr. Landrum, it was a true honor to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be under such unpleasant circumstances.”

  She stood and reached to shake Theo’s hand.

  He offered it to her, although it was as enthusiastic as if he would reach to shake a polar bear’s paw.

  She gave it a brief shake then reached for my hand. I felt terrible for her, yet I didn’t know what to do. We shook, then I gave her a quick hug, before she headed to the bank of elevators.

  We were in the car ten minutes before Theo said anything other than agreeing with me about the heavy traffic. I wanted to ask why he was so cold, no, make that rude, yet I knew he’d talk when he was ready.

  We were five miles from Folly when he said, “I was shocked she’s black. I was stunned with the realization I not only had no idea who she was, I didn’t have a clue who my son was, or who he’d become. She drove all the way across the country to… to what? What does she want from me? What on God’s green earth should I have said to a total stranger?”

  “Theo, you know as much about her as I do, so I don’t have answers. There may be an ulterior motive for her being here. I get that. You were burned earlier this year when Sal brought three comedians with him who, for all practical purposes, moved into your house.”

  “Damned near got me killed.”

  “Yes, despite that, look how you and Sal have bonded after years of being strangers.”

  “So?”

  “So, you don’t know what Grace wants. She didn’t ask for anything. It’s possible she meant it when she said you were her only family left. She loved Teddy; she may hope to find some of him in you.”

  Theo didn’t say anything as he stared at the road in front of us.

  “Theo, do you have a problem with her being black?”

  I knew Theo and William were friends from their time together in the walking group, I didn’t remember him ever saying anything derogatory about anyone because of race.

  “Chris, I’m eighty-seven years old. I grew up in a time when race relations weren’t what they are now. I wouldn’t say my parents were racist, wouldn’t say I was yet, when I was young, black people had their place. It wasn’t the same as ours. It was the way it was. Segregation, although I didn’t know what the word meant, was the law of the land. I’m an old dog, but think I can learn a few new tricks.”

  “When I had my company, two of my top engineers were black, African American. They were great engineers, great people. That’s a lot of words to say I probably have vestiges of racism in me. I think I’ve overcome most of it. Yes, I was shocked when I saw Grace. Was it because of her color? I honestly don’t know.” He smiled for the first time since being in the car. “Hell, Chris, I would have been just as shocked if she was six-foot-five, or if her hair was glow-in-the-dark purple.”

  “You’re saying your reaction was because she was different than you’d expected?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  Theo returned to silence until we got to his house, when he said, “You know what that doesn’t answer?”

  “What?”

  “Why she’s here.”

  Chapter Ten

  I didn’t have time to think about Theo’s antagonistic reaction to Grace. The phone rang as I walked in the house.

  The conversation opened with Charles’s machine-gunning me with, “What’s she like? What did Theo say? Does she have a dog? When will I meet her?”

  I gave him a brief rundown of our meeting. I made it through the first minute of the summary before Charles did what he does best, interrupt with more questions. I proceeded to tell him, in no particular order, what Grace looked like, what she had on, how Theo reacted to her, how long it had taken her to drive from California, and if she had a dog. I was unable to tell him what her food truck looked like since we hadn’t seen it. Most importantly, I couldn’t tell him why she was here.

  After more elaboration than necessary, he asked, “What does she want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t you ask her?”

  “Charles, it wasn’t my place. She was here to see Theo.”

  “Seems to me that’s a little strange. I think Theo has a legitimate point thinking she wants something. He’s rich, has a big house, is old as dirt, and just as fast. Sure, Sal’s Theo’s blood relative, but after him who’s in line to get Theo’s wealth when he kicks the bucket?”

  “Charles, when did you get so jaded? Theo’s not going to let her pull anything over on him. He’s bright, but considering the way he reacted, I’d be surprised if he’ll reach out to her, much less rush to put her in his will.”

  “Have you already shed enough brain cells to forget how Theo was hours from being taken in two years ago by a con artist? Nearly gave him a million bucks.”r />
  “I haven’t forgotten. You didn’t see how Theo reacted to Grace. He was borderline nuclear. If she’d asked for money for a soft drink from the vending machine, I think he would’ve turned her down.”

  “Whatever,” Charles said, then took a deep breath. “Now let me tell you why I really called. Laurie Fitzsimmons called.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. Know what she wanted?”

  “You want me to guess?”

  “No. She wants to have supper.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “I suppose because she’s hungry.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “She didn’t say. Remember Gail, Laurie’s friend from Jacksonville?”

  “Sure.”

  “She’s still here, hubby headed home. Laurie and Gail are going to St. James Gate tomorrow night. She asked me to join them. Does that sound strange, or what?”

  “What’d you say?”

  “After I got over the shock, I said, ‘Why not? Chris and I’d love to join you.’”

  “Charles, did she invite me?”

  “No. I did. Why?”

  “Never mind. What’d she say?”

  “She mumbled something, held her hand over the phone, then said something to I assume Gail. She returned with, this is a direct quote, ‘Six-thirty, meet you there,’ and hung up.”

  Hanging up was something I should’ve done as soon as Charles said, “I suppose because she was hungry.” Theo asking me to go with him to meet his daughter-in-law, now Charles asking, correction, telling me I was having supper with Laurie, a person I’d met twice, and Gail, someone whom I’d met once. Do I look like a human psychiatric service animal?

  In Charles’s world, six-thirty meant six o’clock, so I was standing in front of St. James Gate when he walked up wearing a long-sleeved, gray T-shirt with what looked like an eagle over University of North Florida in blue on the front. Unlike his unlimited supply of T-shirts, he had on the same frayed, tan shorts that had been with him since we’d first met.

  He pointed to the logo on his shirt. “Bet you think it’s an eagle.”

  He would’ve been hurt if he knew I hadn’t given it any thought. I shrugged.

  “It’s an osprey.”

  Instead of saying, Who gives a flying flip? I said, “Oh.”

  “Wore it in honor of Gail. It’s in Jacksonville, you know.” He peeked in the restaurant’s open front window. “Speaking of Gail, are the ladies here?”

  I reminded him that Laurie probably assumed that six-thirty meant six-thirty. He responded with an articulate, “Whatever.”

  Erik Swartz, a friend of mine, walked up behind Charles, said “Hi,” then pointed at Charles’s T-shirt. “Eagle?”

  “Osprey,” I said before Charles could go into an extended explanation of who knows what.

  Erik said, “Oh.”

  My thought exactly.

  Erik turned to me. “Glad I ran into you. Figured out who killed Anthony?”

  “We’re working on it,” Charles said, before I could deny trying and telling Erik it was in good hands with the police. “Did you know him?”

  Erik nodded toward the restaurant’s door. “Not really. I met him in there once. I stopped by to talk to John, the owner, about a musician I was booking. I had to wait, so I grabbed a beer and started talking to Anthony, who was drinking a Guinness a couple of chairs over.”

  Erik was a talented musician who booked musical acts in a few local businesses.

  Charles said, “What’d you talk about?”

  “Nothing really. I asked how long he lived here. He said he retired from teaching a few weeks earlier. He and his wife bought a house.”

  “Anything else?” Charles the Nosy asked.

  “Nothing important. I was trying to make conversation until John was free. I asked what he was planning to do now that he was retired.”

  Erik chuckled.

  “Funny, now that I think about it, he said something about not doing much, except fixing up the house. He said it needed a lot of work. I said it sounded like a money pit; he smiled, said I hit the roofing nail on the head. He said for me not to worry. He laughed, said he’d dig up the money to pay for it.”

  I said, “Do you think he literally meant dig up the money?”

  “Didn’t at the time. After what happened, I’m not sure. I hear he was out at the old Coast Guard station with a metal detector. He must’ve been looking for something.”

  Erik laughed.

  “He could’ve been looking for all that gold that rumors have been flying around about for decades.”

  Charles had been neglected long enough. “Think there’s gold buried on Folly?”

  “Talk’s cheap. I’ve been around here going on a dozen years and have heard stories about buried treasure. If you ask me, which you did, I think I have as good a chance stumping my toe on a gold brick here on the sidewalk as Anthony would with a metal detector.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta run, guys. Nice talking to you.”

  Charles watched Erik walk away then looked at his empty wrist. “Laurie and her friend are late.”

  Of course, they weren’t. I started to tell him so, when I saw them crossing the street.

  Laurie wore an oversized, black blouse over black slacks, and an oversized frown. She was still in mourning. Gail, a half-foot taller than Laurie, wasn’t as grieved. She had on a celery-colored blouse with a tan skirt.

  Gail smiled when she saw Charles, then pointed at the logo on his shirt. “Ozzie the Osprey.”

  Charles smiled, like he’d stumbled on a gold brick on the sidewalk.

  Gail ignored her friend and shook Charles’s hand. “Thank you for joining us.”

  “My pleasure,” said Charles. “I hope you don’t mind if I brought Chris with me. If we play it right, we’ll get him to pay.”

  Laurie said, “It’s okay.”

  Not quite a resounding yes.

  I told the ladies that it was nice to see them again then suggested we go in before the restaurant filled.

  It was fortunate that we arrived when we had because it was nearly full. We were seated at a table in the front corner of the restaurant that had just been vacated.

  A server finishing cleaning the table asked what we wanted to drink.

  The ladies each ordered a Guinness, Charles stuck with a Bud Light. I ordered white wine.

  Laurie seemed ill at ease, something her friend didn’t share. Gail said, “Do you know why we chose here?”

  I shook my head; Charles said, “Why?”

  “This was Anthony and Laurie’s favorite restaurant. They ate here two or three times a week. Isn’t that right, Laurie?”

  “Yes, we—”

  Gail interrupted, “That’s why I thought it’d be a good place tonight. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Laurie nodded, probably because she knew she wouldn’t be able to get a complete sentence out without Gail interrupting.

  The server returned with our drinks, and Laurie was quick to take a sip. I didn’t blame her. I told the server to give us a few minutes to decide on what to order.

  Gail said, “Anthony’s funeral will be Friday. I begged Laurie to take the body back to Jacksonville so their former teaching buddies could attend. But, no; she said, ‘Don’t be silly.’ Folly was now home; Anthony would be buried near where she lives.” She reached over and patted Laurie’s leg. “I told her not to worry. Dean would come back, and I’d already be here for the service. Isn’t that right, Laurie?”

  Laurie took a larger gulp of beer, turned to Gail, and said, “I don’t think our friends want to hear about a funeral. Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”

  Gail said, “Oh. I was mentioning it because I’m sure they’ll want to attend. Isn’t that right, guys?”

  “Tell us where and when, we’ll be there,” Charles said without glancing my way.

  “See,” said Gail. “There’ll be a graveside service at two o’clock at the Holy Cross Cemetery
, on, what’s the name of the street, Laurie?”

  Laurie looked at her drink and mumbled, “Ft. Johnson Road.”

  Charles said, “You can count on us.”

  “Now,” Gail said, “that’s out of the way. Charles, Laurie tells me that you’re a private detective. That must be exciting, must be dangerous.”

  “I don’t know about exciting. Dangerous, definitely. I, along with some of my friends, including Chris here, have helped the police a few times.”

  Gail turned to Laurie. “Why don’t you ask Charles to help find the person who, murd… umm, took poor Anthony’s life?”

  This didn’t appear to be the way to turn the conversation to more pleasant topics, so I said, “Gail, I know the detective from the sheriff’s office assigned to the case. I also know the Folly Beach Police Chief. They’re both good at their job. I have confidence they’re doing what they can to solve it.”

  Laurie appeared to perk up. “That detective, think his name’s Callahan, came to see me yesterday. He had me go over what happened again. There’s no doubt he’s thorough.”

  The server returned, we ordered, and the conversation drifted to lighter topics.

  Gail asked how long Charles and I had been on Folly and what I had done before retiring. She talked about a factory where she’d worked before it moved its operation offshore. She shared way more information than we needed about how Dean had quit teaching, how he’d taken over his dad’s tire store.

  I started to tune out the conversation when Gail began telling us how the two couples had met, how neither had any children, how they shared a common interest in history and cooking, plus how they played bridge twice a month. Most I’d already heard.

  Telephone calls were seldom pleasant interruptions, but I was pleased when my phone rang around the time Gail was telling us a “fascinating” story about the time she and Laurie had prepared the “most delicious” bison meal for their husbands.

  Chief LaMond said, “What’s that noise in the background? Am I interrupting something?”

  I wanted to scream, “Yes, thank you!” Instead, I told her who I was with and that she wasn’t interrupting.