Imperfect Daddy

by Gregg E. Brickman

  I had noted the kid's name and cell phone number on the Yaris brochure. Maybe Ray would be interested in what I had to say. I dreaded finding out.

  A small panel truck pulled in front of Ray's condo. I saw two men offloading his belongings. Kerri and Branden wandered in and out of the apartment. Kerri directed the placement of the furniture, and Branden got in the way. I didn't see Ray or his car. I assumed he was at work.

  I decided to drop the brochure with the carry-out kid's name and number at the police station and, maybe, I'd be lucky enough to avoid Ray. To enhance further my chances of not dealing with him, I put the brochure in an envelope provided by the officer at the downstairs reception desk and asked him to deliver it to Ray's desk when he had the opportunity.

  Ray must have been at his desk because I went directly home from the PD and found a message on my machine saying he would follow up on the lead. He said it confirmed other information he had that a small Toyota had been in the neighborhood.

  There was a pause in the message, and I was about ready to push the delete button when the message continued, almost as an afterthought. "Sophia, I appreciate the lead, but I asked you to mind your own business."

  I thought I'd do whatever I wanted.

  52

  I'd had a busy morning poking my nose into police business, and now they would probably arrest me for tampering with an ongoing investigation. I made myself a tuna sandwich slathered with full-strength mayonnaise. I might as well eat because I knew the food wasn't good at the jail. I doubted Ray would arrest me for interfering, but Lewis was another matter. Lewis could be a mean dude when he set his mind to it. On the bright side, I had managed to uncover a lead or two.

  I perched on the stool next to my kitchen counter and wolfed down the sandwich followed by a glass of milk and a cookie. Sunshine nosed around the floor, hoping I'd gotten sloppy and dropped a few crumbs. No such luck. I gave him a treat to soothe his hurt feelings.

  I was alone by my own doing and felt sorry for myself. One of the downsides of working twelve-hour shifts is having too many days off to get in trouble or to feel dejected. I poured a second glass of milk and moved to the sofa, thinking I'd read a while, then call the ER and volunteer for some overtime shifts—extra cash for my legal defense. My mind kept wandering back to the fiasco in Parkview.

  First, I imagined the scene in the police station with Ervin and decided I'd done nothing to provoke the attack. He was a scumbag. I studied the memory, remembering how he grabbed me, and how the watchband on his right arm caught in my hair.

  Unbidden, the fight in the barnyard crowded into my thoughts. The knife in Ervin's hand flashed in my memory, and I made a connection between the two incidents. Ervin was a lefty. Pyle was a righty. That's what had confirmed his innocence for me, and Ray had agreed.

  I wondered again if Ervin was Amber's biological father. Kerri said Ervin had been married and had a daughter called Little Bit and named after her mother. Amber told me she had her mother's name. Ervin's wife went to Montgomery after the divorce, which was the same place Pyle met and married his wife.

  I poked around in the recesses of my purse until I found the address and telephone number for Amber's foster home. When Mrs. Doran answered the telephone, I asked to speak with Amber.

  "It's not a good idea," Mrs. Doran said. "It took her a long time to settle down after your visit the other day. She needs time to work things through."

  I didn't agree. Amber had proven herself resilient. With time and attention, she'd pull through, especially if her Poppy claimed custody of her. I said, "You have a point. Will you ask her something for me, please?"

  "What is it?"

  "Ask her if anyone calls her Little Bit."

  "Wait a minute."

  I heard a clunk and knew she'd set down the telephone. I spent several minutes listening to the sound of children playing in the background.

  She came back on the telephone. "Amber says her mommy called her Little Bit."

  I felt I had confirmed Amber's parentage. But I knew my conclusions wouldn't hold up in court. It would be a traumatized child's word against the word of a seasoned police chief.

  After obtaining the number of the courthouse in Parkview from the Internet, I called and asked for Jonesie. I think he pretended to remember me before saying he didn't have anything to do with birth records. He told me to contact the Virginia Department of Health in Richmond for a copy of the birth certificate, which they wouldn't give me since I wasn't the next of kin.

  "Mr. Jones, maybe you can help me. You've been in Parkview a long time, and I know you're not the chief's biggest fan." When Jonesie responded with a noncommittal grunt, I forged ahead. I was in Florida, and Ervin couldn't arrest me for asking. "Do you remember the chief's wife's and daughter's names?"

  "Is that the information you wanted from the birth certificate?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You don't need the birth certificate. They were married in the First Baptist Church. Call the office there. My sister is the minister's secretary. Tell her I told you to call."

  Jonesie's sister was forthcoming. She told me the chief married Amber Lillian Ronolder and their daughter, also named Amber Lillian, was baptized in the church a couple of years later. On a hunch, I asked her what the chief's given name was.

  "Jack," she replied without hesitation.

  Back in my den and on the Internet, I accessed the website for the Parkview Police Department and found a picture of the smiling chief of police over the caption, Jack (Jake) Kelmer Ervin.

  Pleased with my telephone and Internet sleuthing success, I forgot myself and dialed Ray's cell phone. When the voice mail announcement came on, I left a message saying I had made an interesting discovery proving Ervin was Amber's birth father. Ray didn't call back. I called the ER and scheduled myself for several overtime shifts.

  53

  After pacing the house, trying to read, and taking Sunshine for a short walk to sniff around the neighbor's trees, I grabbed my car keys and took off for the mall. I needed a new uniform, though I supposed I'd have to wear whatever they provided in jail, and I was almost out of perfume. Ray wouldn't be buying me any more CHANEL No5. He always bought the perfume for my birthday. When I bought it for myself, I settled for the more economical cologne.

  I stopped at the food court, stood in line for an order of sesame chicken and fried rice, then parked myself outside the coffee shop next to the immense cylindrical fish tank. Ray and I used to go there and had watched a couple of guards inadvertently blind a puffer fish as they tried to rescue him from a crevice in the coral.

  The assault with the broomstick hadn't killed him. He circled the tank long after losing the eye. When he disappeared, we assumed someone had decided the puffer wasn't healthy enough for display.

  I licked the last of the chicken's sauce off my fingers and wandered to the uniform shop, looking in all the store windows along the way. I thought about calling Connie, but I knew she was working and wouldn't be interested in listening to my incessant whining about Ray. She'd made it clear I'd made my bed when I took up with him again. I suspected she'd tell me I was getting what I deserved.

  I purchased a lavender uniform top with a scattering of stethoscope-wearing fishes and solid purple scrub pants. Then I returned to the fish tank, bought a cup of coffee, and sat to contemplate the tank and the mess I'd made of my love life.

  Ray found me there, gazing at an eight-inch blue tang, an oval-shaped fish in two spectacular shades of blue with a gold tail fin. I don't know how long I sat there. I lost track of time and was surprised when Ray said it was almost nine.

  "I called your house and your cell. I went to the house, then came looking." He pulled up a chair and sat across from me, blocking my view of the blue tang.

  I patted my purse. "I guess I left my phone on the charger. I’m surprised to see you."

  "I was worried about you. We matched scrapings from under the woman's fingernails and samples from Amber to Ervin's DNA." />
  "Why is it no one gives Pyle's wife a name?" I said. "Her name was Amber Lillian Ronolder Ervin Pyle to be precise. Or even Mrs. Pyle, if you can't handle all of that."

  "Whoa." He held up his hand. "Where'd that come from? Where'd you get the information?"

  I told him. While I was on a roll, I also told him Ervin was a lefty and why I knew that, too.

  "You're right."

  "When you arrest me for interfering with your investigation by talking to the Publix bag-person—excuse me, carry-out person, you can arrest me for calling Parkview and sticking my nose in there."

  "Sophi, I didn't come to arrest you. I came to find you and make sure you're safe."

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "For one thing, the chief's on the move. Mac is running the PD in Parkview. He said Ervin hasn't been in for a couple of days. He showed late this afternoon, took a telephone call, then pocketed his weapon and keys, and walked out.

  "Mac said Ervin seemed upset, rambling, maybe confused. Talkin' about me, you, his daughter. Mac tried to stop him, but got decked. After Mac came to, he said he checked Ervin's house and his usual haunts—even drove out to the lake and to the cabin on the mountain, but Ervin wasn't around.

  "I'm concerned about you because you pissed Ervin off, and he apparently has a way of doing in people who make him mad." His voice was soft and caring, not angry.

  "Oh." I pondered for a minute. "Where'd you get the DNA?" I was sure Ervin hadn't sent it by Fed Ex. "Do you have a warrant for him?"

  "The medical examiner scraped the DNA off my shirt. Ervin bled all over me. The problem is I can't prove it was his blood. I was off duty, out of state, and breaking the law at the time. The judge thought we didn't have enough to issue a warrant, so we have to strengthen the case. We're doing that. Once we get Ervin into custody, we'll need another DNA sample to confirm the previous one. That'll about wrap it up.

  "We have a copy of Amber's original birth certificate from Richmond. It provides the connection between Ervin and the child. Coupled with Amber's allegation that it was her daddy who hurt her and killed her mother and brother, the judge will be more inclined to issue a warrant."

  "What about the information I left for you about the car?" The blue tang hid behind a piece of yellow coral on the far side of the tank.

  "I talked to the boy from Publix, and he seemed sure in his identification of the Yaris. We've been checking with the rental car companies all day. The problem is we have a lot of territory to cover. We're phone canvassing the outlying locations and sending officers to the airports. They're carrying pictures of Ervin with them on the outside chance someone will recognize him?"

  "Airlines?"

  "Still checking. It's hard to fly under an assumed name nowadays, but if Ervin flew into Atlanta, he'd connect to South Florida on any number of carriers, then to three different airports."

  We talked about the case for a few more minutes, and I relaxed. After a while, the topic exhausted, we sat in silence.

  "Are you and the kids getting settled in the condo?" I finished the dregs of my coffee. "I saw the truck in front of the building while I was talking to the Publix bag-person."

  "The place is a mess. Kerri grabbed the bedroom in the back of the apartment and proceeded to carpet the floor with her wardrobe. I can't figure how she crammed so much stuff in one suitcase."

  "Did you see the size of it?"

  "Yup. I'll have to do something about furniture for those two rooms this weekend. I didn't furnish them when I lived in the condo the first time. I can't tell them to put away their clothes if they have no furniture. Branden seems content to sleep on the floor in my old sleeping bag, but Kerri is pitching a fit about sleeping on the sofa."

  "I'm sure you'll all get settled in." I collected my shopping bag and purse. "I'm going to head home. Thanks for updating me."

  "If you don't mind, I'd like to follow you home and make sure you're okay." He stood and came around to hold my chair—like he did when we were mere acquaintances.

  "You're serious. You think he'll come after me." I stared at Ray's stern face, my mouth agape.

  "It's a possibility. Or he might come looking for me. He missed me last time, and he knows I live—lived—with you."

  "What about the kids? Are they safe?"

  "An off-duty officer who owes me a favor is with them."

  I shrugged and raised my hands in acquiescence. He followed me to my Mini, scrunched into the passenger's seat, and instructed me to drive halfway around the mall to where he'd parked the Honda. A few minutes later, he slipped into the garage next to my Mini. Just like always.

  I exited the Mini, being careful not to dent the door of his car. "I didn't expect you to pull into the garage."

  "I didn't want this sitting in the drive like a big red flag while I check the house." He patted the hood of his car.

  "Okay, whatever." I went into the house, freed Sunshine from his crate, and took him outside.

  When I finished watching the dog take care of business in the backyard—during the damp summer months in South Florida, nocturnal, poisonous Bufo toads are a problem—I found Ray relaxing on the loveseat with a glass of white wine in hand. A second wine glass, the exterior wet with condensation, sat on the coffee table. I'd stayed outside longer than I thought.

  I carried the glass to the kitchen counter and hiked myself onto one of the stools. Given the close proximity of the Florida room and the kitchen, I was less than three feet away from Ray. "What's on your mind?"

  He didn't answer my question. Instead, he gave me a window-by-window review of the security status of my home. It was, in fact, secure. I had installed outside lighting, good locks, and an alarm system after a bunch of thugs broke into my house. Now, it seemed they would be useful.

  "I'm safe, then. You're good to go. I'm sure your children are anxious for you to get home."

  "They know where I am. We ate at the new hamburger joint on University and then rented a movie and a couple of video games. They're fine."

  Not knowing what else to say, I waited. The white zinfandel tasted good—cool and crisp.

  "Will you sit next to me? Can we talk?"

  "You said there was nothing more to talk about." I moved to the loveseat anyway, not taking my usual place, but instead, wedging myself against the armrest, as far away from him as possible. I bent my leg and faced him, adjusting my position to relieve the cramping in my right thigh.

  I noticed Ray's drawn appearance. Dark circles framed his eyes, and a day's growth of beard covered his cheeks and neck. His usually meticulous goatee was in need of grooming.

  After a while, he set his drink on the table and took my hand. "I was hurt and angry you doubted me. But you had reason. You asked me what happened during Pyle's trial, and my divorce, and I refused to tell you. I expected you to accept me on faith, but why should you? You've been around enough to know everything isn't always as it seems. If I had given you straight answers, it wouldn't have been necessary for you to sneak around."

  I nodded my head, but kept quiet.

  "Truth is I suspected Elaine and Buddy Lee still had something going when Ervin arrested him in the Bullock case, and I even suspected she might have been with him the night of Bullock's murder. I never asked her, and she never volunteered the information. I should have, but I was still trying to save the marriage for the sake of Kerri and Branden, or maybe I just didn't want to know.

  "When I found out she visited Buddy Lee in prison, but didn't bother to see me in the hospital, I believed my suspicions, but I had no proof. Then later, she confessed to Suzanne, and Suzanne called me. I decided to take action, forcing her to come with me to the judge and tell her story. Thankfully, he didn't take any action against her."

  I nodded.

  "Marginal ethics at best." He took the glass out of my hand and set it on the coffee table. Then he drew me close to him. I resisted. "I'm not going to hurt you."

  "I know."

  "I want to hold you while I tal
k."

  I relaxed against him, enjoying the smell of him—the day's work, male smell laced with the remnants of Nautica from his morning grooming. He felt good.

  Ray continued, his voice softly southern. "Truth is I miss you. I can't stand having you so near, yet so far."

  "I miss you, too."

  "And I love you. I want to try to make it work for us."

  I thought about my aborted attempts to prove Brandon's parentage, then remembered reading an advice columnist's reply to a woman who was toying with the idea of confessing her adultery to her husband to clear her conscience. If she told her husband what she'd done, she would be further hurting the man she claimed to love. I resolved to bear my own guilt in silence and to make my personal amends by not repeating my behavior.

  "Can we?" he asked.

  His needy caressing of my lips muffled my reply. When he backed away, I said, "Yes."

  I initiated the next kiss. We kissed and clung to each other for a long time, neither of us attempting to take it any farther. I had it in the back of my mind that he might be thinking with his hormones. But he wasn't. He leaned back against the sofa cushions and arranged me into in the crook of his arm. "Sweetheart, I have to go. I wish I could stay, but I need to go back to work."

  "When will I see you?"

  "Tomorrow night for dinner. Every day I can."

  When he left, he instructed me to stay locked inside until morning, and to exercise due care.

  54

  Ray called late Wednesday night and at six the next morning. The same thing on Friday morning. I wasn't sure if I should feel loved or afraid, given his need to check on me. I was in my uniform and sipping coffee. Sunshine danced in front of the French doors leading to the patio, and I planned to take him out in the yard for a few minutes before leaving for work.

  When I told Ray my intentions, he cautioned me to wait until it was light and to look out the windows first.