Jake nodded, thinking of Elmer Leonardis’s death and Detective Skaffe. He wondered if he might have to deal with being a murder suspect himself.
“What I threw was to distract him. Those are chakrams, throwing disks used in Indian martial arts.”
“You’re trained in martial arts? I’ve had some training myself, in the service, but nothing so advanced. And you were so fast.”
“I trained in the practice of Kalaripayattu, under a spiritual master who also taught the mystical side. Ten years. The quickness is just a gift.”
“Holy cow. We don’t know you at all, do we?”
“Do you not? By the way, don’t say, ‘Holy cow.’”
“So, your Myrtle Beach story is bullshit.”
“Not at all. I went back to India after high school to understand the culture.”
“How did you become an investigator?”
“That, as you say, is a long story. Perhaps another time … Ah, we’re here. Give Rachel a shower first. We can buy some new clothes for her tomorrow. She’ll be dope-sick for a few days, so someone will have to watch her.”
“That someone is me.” Sharon glared. “You may be a mystical, martial artist being, but you’re also a dumbass.”
She kissed her sister’s cheek. “Oh, God, I’m so glad to have you back, baby.” Sharon tried to say more, but it was lost in her crying as she held her sister tight.
They traveled north on I-75, matching the traffic flow. “Tifton is the place to go. It’s nearby, and it’s getting late.” Shivani looked up from his phone. “A Hilton Garden Inn and Suites is near the exit.”
“Sold,” Jake said.
Chapter 27
Four days later, the worst of Rachel’s withdrawal was over. Sharon had been with her the whole time, listening and soothing her, stopping only to sleep, shower, and order room service.
Followed by the other three in the Camry, Shivani drove the Malibu toward Ray City, to visit the cracker at Crown Auto Brokers. With the others waiting by the curb, he drove in and got out. The door of the building opened, and the man in overalls lumbered from the porch.
“At the price you paid, they ain’t no warranty. I told you that.”
Shivani smiled. “No worries. I don’t need the car anymore, so I’ll sell it back to you. Fourteen hundred.”
“Don’t need it. Lot’s full.” The man gestured toward the row of cars.
Shivani’s smile vanished. “Did I ask if you need it? Fourteen hundred. Remember, I paid you two thousand for it. “You have the car again, so you’re back where you started, plus six hundred in your pocket. I changed the oil and filter because I figured you hadn’t touched it. Good thing. They were filthy. Oh, yeah, the gas tank is half-full too.”
“How do I know you ain’t damaged the transmission or the motor?”
“You can drive it with me riding along. Remember, I own this car until you’ve paid me, so don’t horse it around.” Shivani opened the passenger-side door and gestured at the driver’s side. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t nobody like you tell me what to do. Get out of here.”
“Nobody like me?” Shivani patted his chest and stared until the man averted his eyes. “There was a dealer’s license posted in the office when we did the paperwork on this car. It’s expired. And not in your name, unless you’re Christine.”
The man’s gaze slipped to the building and back, a sour expression on his face. “I just work here.”
“There’s something fishy about this.” This time, Shivani’s smile was menacing. “I think I’ll check into that with the licensing people.”
“Okay,” the man said. “But I’ll give you twelve hundred. I’m a little short on cash.” He made an unhappy face and shook his head. “I got too many cars now, and this might sit on the lot for a while.”
“Deal.”
The Camry aimed south toward Lake Creed, Shivani at the wheel. Sharon smiled at Rachel, so clean and feminine in jeans and frilly top.
Rachel looked out the window. “Am I going back to Ray City?”
“Sis, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You have to stop the drugs.”
“I’ve learned. I promise. Just let me go back, and I’ll be okay.”
“After you’ve been clean for a while, we’ll decide what to do longer term. We’ll see. Maybe as time passes you’ll get comfortable with the idea of living near me, wherever we end up.”
“I don’t want to lose the welfare.”
“If things work out, money won’t be a problem.”
“I don’t know.”
Sharon leaned forward. “Shivani, What’s your deal? I heard what you told Jake about your past. But who are you, really?”
Surprised, Shivani rubbed his cheek. “Who am I? What about you? Who are you? I think you know plenty more about me than I do you.”
Sharon was silent.
“Private person, are you? Tell me how you managed to escape the environment you left your sister in. Tell me why you left her. Is your tender emotion for her related to guilt?”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t want to tangle with you. Just—you’re a strange one. I think you’re extra perceptive, beyond intuition, somehow mystical, and I’m curious.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Sharon became quiet.
Sharon woke with a start, her last exchange with Shivani on her mind. I’d better shut up about that. I’m right. He’s an intuitive, maybe even psychic. If he wants to be evasive, I can play that way.
She yawned. “Wow. I passed out. Rachel is dead to the world too. How much longer to Lake Creed?”
Rachel stirred and mumbled, “You saved me,” then fell silent.
“Three hours,” said Jake. “We’re nowhere near I-4, and it’ll be about two hours past that.”
They rode in moderate traffic along a four-lane stretch that could have been anywhere in recently-developed-suburbia, USA. All over were communities with stone entrances bearing names the developers used for projects. “Brandywine.” “Cotswold.” “Forest Glen.” Sharon wondered why the English-sounding names; no doubt the builders had reams of research showing that people associated such names with something idyllic, thus perceiving more value. Each community was cloistered behind fences or landscaped berms, the rooftops visible above them. Occasionally, the monotony was broken by shopping centers with cobblestone entrances, the stores set back from view on a higher elevation but heralded by attractive signs.
Jake interrupted her reverie. “We need to have a plan for what to do when we get there.”
Shivani cleared his throat. “I think we should—”
Sharon tapped Shivani’s shoulder. “Find a hotel and let Rachel rest while we talk in the lobby. Right now, I want to talk to Jake.”
Shivani gestured, palm up. “Be my guest.”
“Jake, you had anxiety before the war.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Stop it. I just know. Anyway, the war left you with PTSD. Between episodes, you hide the general anxiety very well, but I can see it.”
Jake turned toward the back seat and indicated Shivani with his thumb.
She snorted. “I think he’s got your number. No reason not to talk in front of him. What’s he going to do, write a book? Anyway, you had anxiety before the war. Just not as bad. Right?”
Jake covered his eyes with a hand and trailed his fingers down his face. He took a deep, slow breath and exhaled. “You’re right. I’ve somehow learned to function okay by distracting myself with activity, too often with booze.”
He smiled. “It sounds strange to say, but pulling off the Globe fraud was calming. It was demanding—juggling all the details like the performers on the old Ed Sullivan Show, spinning plates that were balanced on rods like pool cues. I was addicted to the challenge. I looked forward to getting in the off
ice to do it. The very times I should have been nervous were the most peaceful.”
“I can see that.”
Sharon cracked open her window. “Fresh air.”
She leaned forward so Jake could hear her over the whooshing sound. “But there’s something else. You’re anxious until a problem comes along. Faced with an immediate threat, you become focused. Fear only rears its ugly head when the immediate danger is over. Then you melt into depression.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that. I suppose you’re right. The black dog appears when I’m not expecting it. Sometimes, though, it comes out of the blue, not a letdown after stress, just triggered by the smallest ordinary event. A dirty look from Malcolm. The feeling I’ve forgotten something important … These things can set off feelings that are always there, below the surface.”
“Black dog?” Shivani met Sharon’s eyes in the mirror. He looked confused.
“Depression. The expression ‘black dog’ is courtesy of Winston Churchill,” Jake said. “He suffered from it, you might recall.”
“No, I don’t. A powerful metaphor, isn’t it?”
“Boys.” Sharon knew she sounded like a teacher trying to bring third graders under control. “Please let me continue. Jake, where I was going with this is that sometimes I think there are two Jakes. One is klutzy, anxious, bumping into things, and sometimes has trouble thinking straight. The other Jake is shrewd and thinks fast. He’s focused, moves athletically, and finds practical solutions to problems.”
She leaned back and closed the window. “Smoke out there. What is it they’re always burning? Never mind. Jake, have you always been like that?”
“To some degree—hell, I don’t know. On my first job, they sent me to a psychologist as part of standard new-employee screening. He told me my personality test showed an unusual duality, as he put it. He told me I showed high scores for what he called ‘hot’ feelings—affection, empathy, anger, and so forth. But I also scored high for detachment, observation, and judgment. He said there was a cold side to me.”
Jake grinned. “I was twenty-three years old. I thought he was full of it. Maybe he had something.”
“If I may,” Shivani said. Hearing no answer, he continued. “That was close to twenty-five years ago. People change, but the original foundation is always there. This dichotomy doesn’t seem particularly relevant to his PTSD, though, if that’s what you were after, Sharon.”
“I’ll think about it. I just wanted to learn more about this knucklehead I’ve adopted. Dichotomy, huh?”
“Means a split.”
“I know what it means.”
“Speaking of psychology,” Shivani said, “if you had any testing, I’m sure it was what you would call a doozy.”
“If you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone, Mr. Exotic.”
“I can live with that.” Shivani turned to Jake. “Athletic? Hmmm … I think I remember you implying you are a better dancer than I.”
“Did I? Based on what I saw, I’m pretty sure you’re limited in that department. I’m not in the greatest shape, but I’m blessed with a strong constitution. I can still do two sets of fifty push-ups, and I can run a mile in seven and a half minutes … okay, eight anyway. I think my dancing ability is better than what I’ve seen from you so far.”
“Sounds like a challenge.”
“You bet your skinny Myrtle Beach ass it is.”
The following morning, Jake, Sharon, and Shivani cruised Lake Creed’s main drag in the white Camry. Angled parking spots lined both sides of the street, a car in one of every three or four. There were rows of small 1950s-style buildings, one or two stories, most with faded paint; beauty salons; small diners and a deli; Jimmy’s Electronics, along with other businesses and professional offices; several vacant stores for sale or for rent. Except for an elderly couple hobbling to their car from one of the diners, there were no people in sight.
The bank was several blocks farther, on a corner. Their plan was to enter a few minutes after its opening at nine, Shivani waiting in the car.
As they drove past the police department, Sharon pointed at a black sedan that had a spotlight mounted above the driver’s side mirror. “I’ll bet that’s Skaffe. We should call and tell him we’re here. He’s got to be wondering where we are.”
Shivani said, “I don’t like what I’m feeling. Are you sure you should call?”
“Yes, to preempt trouble if he sees us. Don’t worry,” Jake snickered. “This guy isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.”
“That isn’t always good,” Sharon said. “Once a guy like that latches on to something, he can be persistent.”
Shivani pleaded, “My head is swimming. Please humor me and call after we have the money.”
“Jake and I will go in and get the money, and once we have it in the trunk, we’ll call.”
After a careful scan of the area, Jake and Sharon strolled into the bank. When they exited and crossed the small parking lot, Jake raised his hand and waved. The trunk popped open, and Jake dropped the backpack in, closing the lid.
Jake got in. “Okay, let’s go.” Before Shivani could put the car in reverse, Skaffe pulled up behind them. He hiked himself out and came to the driver’s window, bending to see past Shivani at Jake and Sharon. “Where have you been? I’ve been expecting a call.”
“I’m sorry,” Jake said. “Difficult times.”
“Family emergency or something, right?”
“Sharon’s sister. She’s been quite ill. We were just getting ready to go back to the hotel and take her some breakfast.”
Skaffe straightened. “Hotel? Why aren’t you at your house?”
Jake cleared his throat. “We—”
Sharon interrupted. “We’ve given notice on our lease. We’re going to move to Alabama. We didn’t want to be at the house, all these people and one sick. In case they wanted to show it.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met your friend.”
“Ray Shields.” Skaffe took Shivani’s outstretched hand and stared down and away as though being studied made him uncomfortable.
“Detective Webster Skaffe. Pleased to meet you.” He glanced at Jake and Sharon. “Didn’t I see you two in this car a few days ago? Here at the bank?”
“Not us,” Sharon said.
Jake shook his head.
Shivani fixed Skaffe with a solemn gaze. “This is my car. It wasn’t here. Easy mistake to make, though. This is the best-selling car in the country. And white is a popular color.”
Skaffe stepped back and eyeballed the car. “Your SUV is parked in front of your house. I wondered why you didn’t answer the door.”
Sharon leaned over and smiled up at Skaffe. “I’m so sorry we didn’t call sooner. We noticed your car across the street and were coming to the police station next. As Jake said, it’s been difficult.”
“What hotel?”
Sharon told him.
“Call when you’re settled. I’d like to have a talk. Need some DNA samples too, just to eliminate you as suspects. While I have you, though, did you ever see anyone else at the Leonardis’s house?”
Jake squinted. “Mmm, yes. One guy went in and out a couple times. Forties, bald, built like a weightlifter.”
“Were you ever upstairs?”
Jake squinted again and paused. “Yeah, a few weeks ago, Leo wanted to show me his computer. That stair carpeting is slippery. I took a header coming down but wasn’t injured, thank goodness.”
“Did Leonardis have a gun?”
“If he did, I never saw it. Say, maybe we can come back to the station this afternoon. Is that convenient?”
“Three thirty. I’ve got to finish some reports on another case first.”
“Okay, see you then.” Jake gave a weak salute and scowled at Shivani when he did the same.
After Skaffe left, S
haron attempted to mimic Jake’s voice, “Oh, yeah, Officer, now that you mention it, I was upstairs and fell coming down. I’ll bet my DNA is all over those stairs. Oh, yeah.”
Shivani giggled.
She resumed her normal voice. “See what I mean about thinking fast? Let’s get breakfast to go for all of us and then take off. I’m glad the rooms are under our old fake names. Once we’re out of here, we’re good.”
“Your impression of me was very funny. You sounded like Steve Harvey with a cold. Where are we going?” Jake asked.
“I was right. You haven’t told me everything.” Shivani waved his hands. “But don’t. I don’t want to know.”
“I didn’t kill him on purpose. I fell down the stairs on him, and he hit his head. Terrible, but I can’t have them looking into me.”
“Of course not. Please, say no more about it.”
Sharon chirped, “Where are we going? I’d like to see Sarasota. Anna Maria Island. Picturesque, laid back, lots of old homes painted in pastels. Fishing piers, shopping, and plenty of restaurants. Beaches look nice. I told Rachel what I found out about it, and she was thrilled.”
“Never heard of it, sweetie. Sounds like a good spot.”
Shivani laughed. “That guy’s a detective? If that had been me instead of him, you’d have been wetting your pants. He gave you too much space, too much information. Dull, all right.”
Chapter 28
Rachel woke to the sound of her phone. Groggy and disoriented, she rooted around the bed until she found it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Gary. Just checking on you.”
“Gary. Why are you calling me? You sound weird—like a kid’s voice.”
“I … uh … allergies, I guess. Honey, are you alone?”
She got up and checked the bathroom. “Yeah. I don’t know where they went. I think they’re going to bring breakfast.”
“Where are you?”
“My sister took me to Lake Creed, but we’re going to Anna Maria Island for a while.”
“Is that near Sarasota?”
Never Again, Seriously Page 21
