by Bill Noel
Cindy looked at Larry. “How do you know where he lives?”
“He’s been in the store a few times. Nice gent, but forgetful. He bought WD-40 for a squeaky door. Came in a week later to buy WD-40; said he had a squeaky door. He told me all about his house.” Larry shook his head. “Not that I didn’t want to sell another can of the stuff, but I asked him if it was the same door he’d been in earlier to get something for. He said yes, and that he must have forgotten that he already bought a can. How do you forget something like that?”
“Why’d you want to know if we knew him?” Cindy asked.
I told them about how some in the group were worried about his “forgetfulness” and how Abe had been talking to him about his finances. They were afraid that Theo may be vulnerable and since no one knows much about Pottinger, they were worried.
“Good reason to be,” Larry said. “But that’s not, umm, not the reason we asked you over.”
Cindy said, “Let me get you a refill.” She popped out of her chair and headed toward the door. From the way they were acting, I thought she was right about me needing more wine.
Larry mumbled something about the weather and how bad today’s traffic had been, evidently stalling until Cindy returned.
Cindy handed me my glass. “Where are we, Larry?”
“Waiting for you.”
Cindy took her seat and looked at her husband. “Tell him.”
“Well, umm,” Larry began, hesitated, and continued. “Abe came in the store yesterday. He asked me if I could spare a few minutes. There weren’t any customers and Brandon was there if any came in. I said yes and escorted him to the side yard.” He took another gulp of beer.
“Get on with it sweetie. Chris doesn’t have all night.”
I wanted to hug her, but instead focused on Larry.
“Abe started talking to me all friendly. Said he’d heard that my wife was the police chief. Said that he was proud of me for owning Pewter Hardware. And since it was the only hardware store on Folly, it must be a goldmine.”
Cindy interrupted. “Little does he know.”
Larry continued, “He slobbered on about how he was so glad that I’d made a legitimate living and life for myself. If I didn’t know him like I do, I’d have felt good about what he was saying. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He blabbered some more goody-goody stuff and then he got around to why he was there. Need more wine? I’m getting another beer.”
I said no and he headed to the kitchen.
Cindy watched him go inside and turned to me. “This is rough on him, please be patient. He’ll get to the end of his story. Before daylight.”
Larry returned and looked at Cindy and she motioned for him to continue.
“Then Abe threw some shit at the fan and it smacked me in the face.”
Figuratively, I hoped.
“The damned crook leaned against the side of the building and said something like, ‘Wouldn’t it be terrible if the citizens of your quaint island learned that you’re a thief, and here you are married to the police chief?’ He then said, and I think these are his exact words, ‘Her career would be in the crapper, and you’d be run out of town on a rail quicker than you can say cat burglar.’”
Larry’s whole torso shook, his hands clutched into fists, and he glared at his beer can.
Cindy leaned over and patted his arm. “It’s okay hon, we’ll get through it. Why don’t you tell Chris what Pottinger wants?”
Larry looked up from the can. “Abe looked at me and said, ‘You’re a good friend, Larry. I’ve always liked you. I can make this problem go away.’”
“The problem that Abe had just created,” I said.
Larry nodded. “He said that he’d driven by our house and could tell that I made a good living and with a wife who’s chief, money must be rolling in. He said for a mere fifty-thousand dollars he’d find a way for my secret to stay that way.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him to get his crooked, blackmailing, freakin’ ass off my property.”
“Good. What’d he say?”
“He gave me his smarmy grin and said he’d give me a week to think about it before everyone on one small island in South Carolina learns about me.”
I looked at Cindy who sat stiffly, showing no emotion, and then back at Larry. “What’re you going to do?”
“First, I don’t have fifty grand lying around. Second, if I did, I wouldn’t be caught dead giving him a cent of it. Beyond that, we’re at a loss.”
Cindy leaned forward in her chair. “I told Larry what happened in Atlanta’s ancient history. It’s none of anyone’s business and to let that slime bucket tell whatever he wants to anyone he wants to tell it to. It’s probably a bluff anyway.”
“You’re wrong, hon,” Larry said, his voice calmer and his hands more relaxed. “It could cost you your job if people learned it from Abe who would make a big deal out of it and try to imply that I’m still a crook and that you’re corrupt.”
Cindy patted his arm again. “Larry you know—”
Larry squeezed her hand. “Wait, I’ve kept it secret too long. It’s time, past time, to tell everyone and take our chances. The mayor already knows and he’s your boss, even promoted you to chief. Chris and Charles here know and neither of them has shunned us, at least as far as I can tell.”
Cindy held Larry’s hand and turned to me. “What do you think, Chris?”
“I agree with you, Cindy; it’s been many years and is none of anyone’s business.”
Cindy nodded and started to speak. I held my hand up. “But, you know as well as I do, probably better, that there are some who would take the information, spread it, embellish it, and use it to derail any of your efforts as chief. They’re good at working behind the scene. They won’t directly attack you because they know it would look petty. Whether what Larry did decades ago is anyone’s business or not, or that it’s ancient history, won’t matter. Perception is reality, and the perception of those who don’t know him, can be devastating if they hear it from Abe.”
Larry raised his hand like he wanted to ask his teacher a question. “Here’s what I was thinking. Abe said he wouldn’t do anything for a week, so I’d like to ask him to reconsider; tell him we don’t have the money; and throw myself on his mercy. If he says no, I’ll tell everyone before Abe can.”
Cindy shook her head. “Larry, that idea’s about as good as two broken crutches. Why in holy hotdogs would he show a glimmer of mercy? Maybe I could talk to him, being chief and all.”
“No way,” Larry said. “I’ve got to try.”
I waved in their direction. “Let me throw in my two-cents worth.”
They turned toward me.
“Larry, I don’t think he would pay attention to you. He’s already said what he would do, and won’t believe that you don’t have money.” I turned to Cindy. “The police chief can’t approach him. That could get you in more hot water than anything that Abe can say about Larry. You need to stay above the fray.”
“You’re right,” Cindy said. “So what do we do?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Cindy jerked her head toward me. “Hell no!”
Larry leaned toward me. “No way.”
I held out both hands and pointed a palm at each of them.
“Hear me out. It’s a long shot, but think about it. I’ve met him so he knows who I am. He’s heard Chester Carr and Cal Ballew say that I’m friends with the mayor and am dating a detective from Charleston. That gives me some creds. I can tell him that I know that you are in hock up to your shingles with the hardware store and this house and couldn’t come up with five-hundred dollars much less fifty grand. He would have no way of knowing it’s not true. And I can tell him that the mayor and other ‘key officials’ already know about you. Again, he has no idea who knows. And I could say that you’ve already planned to come clean.”
Larry looked over at Cindy who said, “I need another beer. “Larry? Chr
is?”
We each said yes, and I took a deep breath.
Cindy returned with the drinks and we stared at the marsh. My thoughts were going in circles and I couldn’t imagine what was going on in their heads.
“Guys,” I said, “me talking with him would give you deniability and a way to stay at arm’s length from any volatile reaction. I’m not saying it’ll work, but it’s worth a try.”
Larry said, “I don’t like it. I’d rather just blow his brains out, if he had any.”
Cindy put her hand on Larry’s arm, again. “Now hon, it’s really not that bad. You’ve made countless friends here. Regardless of your past, they will continue to support you, and for my job, hell, I’m police chief.” She chuckled. “I’m supposed to be unpopular.”
Her comment was intended to lighten the mood, but I suspect as far as Larry was concerned, it had failed. I know it had for me.
After more discussion, we agreed that my plan was weak, probably would fall on its face, and was possibly dangerous, but no one had a better idea. Larry gave me Abe’s number, told me where he lived, and wished me luck.
I started to head home, stopped, and turned to Cindy. “Got a favor to ask.”
“Gosh,” she said, with mock astonishment, or I assumed mock. “Why in the world would I do you a favor? All you’re doing for us is confronting a sleazy blackmailer.” She nodded. “Okay, I’m all heart. What is it?”
“Use some of your police resources and see if Abe is licensed to sell reverse mortgages, and if he is, what’s the reputation of the company, and if he’s a financial advisor. I’m worried about members of the .5 group and Theo in particular.”
“You’ve got it. And Chris, thanks.”
I hoped that she would be able to say that in a few days.
Chapter Eighteen
After a night of tossing, turning, and second, third, and fourth guessing my offer to talk to Abe, I called him and was now driving to his house. The good news during my morning call was that he was curious enough to want to meet; the bad news was that he said he would be in Charleston until nine tonight and I could meet him then. That meant that I had all day to worry and wonder, and I had used every minute of it. I had called Larry and told him the plan so in case no one ever heard from me again, they would have a starting point to begin the search for my body. Larry had said for me to stop teasing about something like that; I said I wasn’t teasing. He wished me luck and asked that I call as soon as the meeting ended.
Abe lived five blocks from the center of town and across the street from the city’s tennis court. The plan to talk to him made more sense when I was sitting with two good friends in the safety of the LaMond’s back yard. Asinine was the only word that came to me to describe it as I parked a half block from Abe’s house.
He greeted me on the porch of his attractive, post-Hugo, two-story brick house, one of the few brick homes on the island. He answered the door in a dark-gray suit and a white shirt, with a red-and-blue rep tie loosened at the collar. I shook his hand and teased that he looked quite un-Folly-like. He gave me a salesman’s, hundred-watt smile and said that he agreed but that he just got home from conducting a wealth-management seminar for a group of attorneys. His story sounded good, but I had my doubts about it, and from his breath, if he had conducted a seminar, it was held in a bar.
He invited me in and offered me a variety of alcoholic beverages. I said that water would do. He smiled and said that with the water tower fewer than a hundred yards from his door he figured that he could find a glass of it. I nearly gagged on his charm while he went to find my drink.
He returned with my water and a glass of an amber-colored liquid, probably bourbon, far from his first of the night. I sat on a soft-leather couch and he pulled a matching chair closer to me and took a sip.
He set his drink on a chrome-and-glass table beside the couch, leaned forward, and said, “Let me guess. You heard me talking to Connie and Harriet about the lucrative and lifetime-security I can offer through a reverse mortgage.” He smiled and nodded. I almost had to shade my eyes from the sparkle from his capped teeth. “And, you want to learn how I can ensure your financial future.” He leaned back but continued his syrupy smile.
I returned his smile with equal insincerity. “Not exactly.”
“Then what brings you out on such a lovely night?” he asked, and took another sip.
“You may not know, but two of my best friends are Larry and Cindy LaMond.”
His expression didn’t change but I noticed a slight twitch in his cheek. “Oh, I believe—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. I couldn’t let him throw off my rehearsed introduction. “I was having a conversation with them last night and they shared some disturbing information. I hear that you and Larry go way back. He said that you had some, umm, less-than-legitimate dealings.”
Abe leaned forward. “That’s not—”
“Stop! Let me finish.”
He reached for his glass but didn’t lift it from the table, and then leaned back in his chair.
“Larry also shared that you had approached him with what he called an untenable offer. Now I don’t know if you were serious or teasing your old friend, but let me tell you a few things you might not know about Larry and Cindy.”
I threw in teasing to give Abe an escape hatch if he chose to take it, but I couldn’t tell from his expression where he would go next, so I continued with the lesser-rehearsed portion of my pitch.
“Larry moved to Folly after serving a stint in prison. The first thing he did when he got here was approach Brian Newman, the police chief, to tell him about his past. That police chief is now mayor. And in those more than eighteen years there has not been a single accusation made against your former colleague. Not only does the mayor know about his past, Larry has told members of the city council, and the Charleston County Sheriff. What you think is a secret is old news to everyone who needs to know.” I hesitated and took a drink of water. “Now in the next couple of days, he’s going to tell everyone who comes in the store who doesn’t already know.”
Abe’s faux-smile disappeared somewhere along my comments and his right arm began to fidget. “Mr. Landrum, you have no idea what you’re talking about. To think that I would threaten my friend is ridiculous.”
He reached for his glass and squeezed it so hard I was afraid it would shatter. I took the break to continue and I ignored his comment. “Now to your blackmail attempt.”
“Blackmail!”
I thought he was going to leap out of his chair. I resisted the urge to run and stayed seated. “I hate to break a confidence of a friend, but let me tell you about Larry and Cindy. Yes, his hardware store appears to be successful, but … crap, I hate saying this but you need to know, Larry’s in hock up to his roof shingles. He owes a ton of money on the store, he owes countless vendors for inventory, and he’s upside down on his house. He couldn’t come up with five-hundred dollars, much less fifty thousand. I’m afraid you’re fishing in an empty pond.”
Abe stood and snarled. “And you want me to believe that pile of shit?”
“Believe what you want,” I said as calmly as possible while my insides churned. “Larry doesn’t know I’m talking to you; if he did he would have stopped me. I’m doing it because you need to know and if you have half the sense that I believe you do, you’ll drop your plan.”
I wanted to confront him on his reverse mortgage scheme and whatever con I suspected that he was running on Theo, but I didn’t want to hit him with everything at once. I also didn’t have evidence to make those accusations.
He reached out, grabbed my elbow, and tried to pull me out of the chair. I yanked my arm back and stood.
“It’s time for you to leave before I do something you’ll regret,” he said and staggered to the front door.
I beat him to the door, grasped the handle, began to jerk it open, and then turned to him. “I hope I made myself clear, Mr. Pottinger. Believe me, it won’t turn out in your best interest if
you try to pursue your half-baked scheme.”
I wasn’t about to turn my back to him, so I opened the door the rest of the way and stepped backward.
“You’re going to regret coming here.” He took a step in my direction and shoved me out.
My foot missed the step and I fell backward. My back hit the small concrete porch and a sharp pain radiated down my arm. I looked up and saw Abe standing in the doorway. He glared at me with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
He gave me another one of his high-wattage smiles. “Don’t you forget—”
I never heard what I wasn’t supposed to forget. What I did hear was what sounded like a firecracker exploding across the street behind me. What I saw was horrific. Abe’s smile turned to abject fear. His chest exploded. The center of his white shirt turned crimson. And, he flopped backwards as if he’d been clobbered by a sledgehammer. He was dead before his body hit the highly-polished wood floor.
My first thought was total disbelief, followed by, Am I next? I rolled to my left and off the porch. I tried to maintain a low profile as I turned to see where the shot had come from. There were two security lights on in the small children’s playground across the street but the shadow of the pavilion shaded the three-foot-high wooden picket fence from the light. I caught movement beside the tennis court but it was too dark and too far away to make out anything other than someone dressed in dark clothes walking toward the next street.
I was still afraid to stand and knew I couldn’t help Abe. My phone had slipped out of my pocket when I hit the porch. I grabbed it and was relieved to see that the keypad illuminated when I tapped the phone icon. I was shaking and it took two tries to punch 911. I told the dispatcher what had happened but couldn’t remember Abe’s house number so I said it was across from the tennis court. The calm voice on the phone said that was all she needed and for me to stay on the line.
A large dog stirred up by the gunshot was going berserk a few houses away. The next sounds I heard were from at least two patrol cars and the distinct siren from the city’s Fire/Rescue pick-up truck—all screaming my direction.
