“So when people think they want to forget, they go to a bar, but when they’re still clinging to a little hope of finding a way out of their mess, they come here,” she summarized.
“It’s just a theory.”
“I think people talk to you because you have a way of putting them at ease,” she shared, knowing it was true for her.
“I’m glad you think so,” he answered, looking her right in the eye. “My cousin tells me something is going on with you that isn’t a hundred percent work-related,” Joe continued, speaking softer than usual, as though he didn’t want to spook her by getting too personal.
“Sometimes, the past has a way of jumping out and surprising you,” she shared, unsure of what else to say.
“The beauty of that is that it's usually your choice if you let it impact your future. The past can be kept where it is,” he pushed on. “For it to make a difference now, you have to choose to let it.”
Ellie mulled over his words for a few moments, trying to see if she felt truth in them. “Usually,” she finally managed to agree. “But this might be an exceptional case.”
“Maybe,” Joe offered.
At that, Joe surprised her by laughing. “I’m not the least bit surprised.” Her face must have shown the confusion she felt at his comment, because he explained, “Everything about you is exceptional, Ellie.”
Chapter Eight
When Ellie looked in her rearview mirror and could no longer see the tall buildings of Richmond, her shoulders began to relax. It had been a long time since she’d taken a trip, and the prospect of driving into the unknown was exciting. Since summer was fading into fall, it was cool enough to roll the window down and turn off the air conditioner. She wasn’t sure if it was the lack of city pollution or the smell of freedom, but she drew in several deep breaths, enjoying the crisp air.
Forty-five minutes later, she’d found the right set of ill-marked highways and managed to hit the city limits of Loftsboro. According to the sign at the edge of town, the city boasted a population of five thousand friendly people and the world’s fattest cat. She wasn’t sure she wanted to come into contact with a colossal cat, but she hoped the advertised temperament of the residents wasn’t an overstatement, because she might need their help to find the bank.
Her worries were completely unfounded as she kept driving down Main Street, which was aptly named, as it appeared to have the police station, the public library, post office, three churches, a convenience store and, at the end, the only bank she’d seen. Even though she looked down each cross street, there didn’t appear to be much more in the way of businesses, so this simple strip potentially displayed everything this dot on the map had to offer.
She pulled up in front of the bank and noticed the lights were on, so she stepped out of her car and walked up to the door. Unfortunately, when she pulled the handle, it didn’t budge. Yanking harder didn’t produce any better results, but it did cause one of the ladies behind the counter to walk over to the door and point to her watch.
“We’re closed, honey,” she told Ellie while managing to pop the gum in her mouth after each word.
According to the sign, the bank opened in five minutes. There was a part of her that was tempted to reach in her pocketbook, yank out her badge, and inform the gum-smacking woman with the large teased hair that she had to open the door for the FBI, but she knew that probably wasn’t the smartest thing she could do if she wanted to float under the radar.
In the end, she just waved her appreciation for the information and turned her back on the bank to pretend to be absorbing the warm sunshine rising overhead.
In no less than three hundred seconds, the woman with the beehive hairdo unlocked the door and said, “Thanks for waiting, honey, and welcome to the First Bank of Loftsboro.”
Ellie bit her tongue, knowing it would do no good to sass off about how the few extra moments hadn’t made any difference, because she’d been able to see in the reflection of the car’s windshield facing the bank that the women inside hadn’t done anything to prepare for opening; they’d just stood around talking. Instead, she figured if she went with a “smile and wave” approach, she might be able to get in and out sooner.
“I need to speak to someone about a safety deposit box. Can you help me?”
“Oh heavens no,” the woman replied, still popping the gum between her teeth.
Ellie’s mother wouldn’t have approved of someone smacking that way, and despite the two of them rarely agreeing on much, this was one habit Ellie had to go with Janice on.
“You need to speak to Betty Jean, our manager.”
“Can you point me in her direction?”
“I could, but it won’t do you no good. She’s off for the weekend on account of her daughter, Helen, is having a baby, and Betty Jean don’t want to miss it.”
Ellie took a deep breath and found that the extra oxygen only made her feel more aggressive instead of calming her down like all the gurus claimed it would. “I have a key for a box, and I just need to remove the contents. Will Ms. Jean be back on Monday?”
“No, honey, it’s Betty Jean, not Ms. Jean.” Then she twittered out a laugh that would have been annoying in most other circumstances, but Ellie was so glad for the break in the gum chewing that she didn’t feel she could be picky. “Anyway, I can help you if all you need to do is look in one. I thought you wanted to open up a box account, which the manager alone has to do. You should have said something sooner so we didn’t waste all this time chewing each other’s ears off.”
With great effort Ellie managed to keep from shivering at the image of this woman chewing on her ear. Either it would be gone from the shear muscular structure of the woman’s jaws, or she’d go deaf from the undoubtedly loud popping each time the woman opened her mouth. Instead, Ellie replied, “I’d be much obliged if you could help me.”
After giving the woman the paper from the attorney, along with the key and a copy of her own driver’s license, she was deemed to be the rightful recipient of the contents of the box and allowed to step into the vault.
Ellie didn’t know if she should be excited or nervous, but she could feel her stomach tightening, and she found herself running her eyes over the rows of numbers, finding the symmetry of the organized pattern soothing.
“Here we go, honey. You just need to put your key in above the one I’ve put in there, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”
Ellie put in the key she’d been sent and turned it, relieved to feel the lock give way, removing the final barrier between her and whatever her father had been so intent on passing along. The woman removed her master key and stepped back, leaving Ellie to pull out her father’s things to a table in the middle of the secure space. She could tell the woman wasn’t leaving and had a feeling if she tried to dismiss her, she’d be given some phony story about it being bank policy that someone stay in the vault the whole time an outsider was in there, so she turned her back to her audience and lifted the lid.
Initially, all she could see were files stuffed with paper. She lifted each one out, double-checked there was nothing else that might fall out, and set it on the table before reaching in and extracting the next one. Once she'd pulled out a dozen folders, she came upon her dad’s date book. He'd hated computers and had refused to carry an electronic device of any sort to organize his life. He'd used the computer at the bureau as required, but he hadn’t had much use for them ruling his comings and goings. As she quickly leafed through the yellowed pages, she saw his handwritten notes about who he was meeting with and then numbers after each name that she knew were important, but without any way to interpret the code, she was hopeless to figure it out while standing there.
Finally, she decided the planner would take a lot more time than she could squeeze out in the vault, so she moved on and saw a worn leather wallet that she knew had been her dad's. In the bottom corner of the inside edge was a small heart she’d drawn on there one night while she was waiting for him to come back to the
car at a crime scene. Most kids would have been horrified about being left alone, but he’d locked the doors and parked her in the middle of all the cop cars with their flashing lights. It had been sort of like being at a disco for vehicles, and she was in the middle of all the action. He’d given her his wallet and joked that she could look at anything she wanted, but she wasn’t allowed to run off and spend all his money. Of course, the first thing she'd done was look to see how much money her dad had, and then she hadn’t been able to stop herself from laughing that he only had a single one dollar bill. She’d picked on him for that later, telling him she had more money than he did. He'd promptly taken his wallet back at that point and announced that was good news because she was buying them dinner.
Finally, at the bottom was a plain white envelope with her name written on the outside. She picked it up and noticed it had pictures inside, but she didn’t pull them out while there was a chance the woman from the bank could see the images in the photos. Confident she had gotten everything from the box, she picked up the backpack she'd used in college and gently placed all the items from her father into the bag that had yet to let her down.
“All set?” the woman asked, pretending to have been occupied while Ellie had her back turned.
A nod was the only response Ellie gave to the question.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Out of habit, Ellie nearly answered no, but then she pulled the business card from the attorney who had written to her about her father’s wishes and final gift. “Can you tell me where to find this gentleman?”
The woman gave a quick glance at the card under the guise of wanting to be helpful, but Ellie knew it was more to satisfy her own curiosity about what the stranger was doing in town. “Sure. Alfred’s office is only a block from here.”
After getting easy directions, Ellie asked, “Do you know if he might be in his office today?”
“Oh, I doubt it, on account of it being Saturday and all, but since it’s also his house, I’m sure he’ll answer the door if you ring the bell,” she replied, returning to her briefly forgotten gum.
Figuring she may as well attempt to see Mr. Beaucoup, Ellie left her car, making sure to put both straps of the backpack on her shoulders to secure the precious items, and then set about walking the fifty yards from the bank to the attorney’s office.
As soon as she arrived, she realized why the teller had answered her as she had. At the driveway, there was a sign marked Alfred Beaucoup, Attorney at Law. Please proceed to garage for legal counsel. Trusting that the woman probably knew what was expected better than she did, Ellie went to the front door instead and rang the bell.
There was a fierce barking, as though some crazed dog living in the house took it as a personal threat that someone dared to wake him up on a Saturday morning.
It took a while, but just before she rang the bell a second time, there was the sound of a man scolding a dog, informing him there wouldn’t be any gravy on his breakfast if he didn’t stop the commotion. Strangely, that ended the barking, leaving Ellie to surmise the dog was unusually intelligent to have understood the threat, or abnormally fat to only be calmed down with a threat to his food supply.
When the door opened, Ellie was face to face with an elderly man that stood a good five inches shorter than her. He wore a starched white shirt, the sleeves rolled up partway, that was tucked into a pair of dark trousers, which were held up by suspenders. His belly stretched the red suspenders to the side to allow for the girth of his midsection. Ellie couldn’t help but note that he probably understood how to get to his dog because he appeared to enjoy his gravy, as well. Despite all this, when he angled his head down and looked at her over the top of his half-moon glasses, she found herself at ease.
His face broke into a smile, and then he reached to push the screen door open and invite her in with a wave. “You are Ms. Michaels, aren’t you?”
Nothing about him was frightening or aggressive, and she felt that if her father had found a reason to trust the man in front of her, it was safe for her to do the same. She stuck out her hand by way of introduction and said, “Mr. Beaucoup, I’m Ellie Michaels, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Come on off the porch, and we’ll catch up over a cup of tea,” he offered, stepping back to let her enter his beautifully maintained home. “You do drink tea, don’t you?”
After assuring him she did, she followed him into the kitchen, expecting him to pull out a kettle and put it to boiling. Instead, he reached into a cabinet nearly too high for him and pulled out two pint-sized mason jars. After wiping each of them out with a white towel, he set them on the counter and turned them so that the brand name was facing him. Into each, he added seven cubes of ice and then plucked three leaves off a mint plant growing in the window of his kitchen. After arranging the items to his satisfaction, he brought out a white enamel pitcher from the refrigerator and slowly poured the dark beverage over the ice and leaves, careful not to disrupt the arrangement he’d made. Ellie had to admit, she liked watching him prepare the drink. The only other person she’d seen put this kind of effort into making something so carefully, was Joe. Despite the small amount of time they’d spent together, she found herself missing him.
Not surprisingly, when she took her first swallow, she found it was perfectly sweetened and delicious. “Thank you for the tea.”
He made a gesture, as though it was nothing, but Ellie did notice he seemed pleased by her compliment. “Now, I assume you are here about the letter I sent you.”
She explained she had gone to the bank that morning and pulled out the contents of the security box, but wondered if there was anything else he could tell her about his visit with her father when he made the arrangements to have the information sent to her.
“No, I don’t reckon I can,” he began, much to her disappointment. “I mean, he seemed anxious when he first arrived at my office. He told me he was with the FBI and had to go on assignment for his job, but he needed to leave some detailed instructions for someone to follow should he not return. I interrupted his story and brought him into the house for some tea because he seemed anxious about who he could trust over such a long period of time to handle what he called a ‘vital task.’ After I handed him his drink, your father smiled at me and said, ‘Mr. Beaucoup, I need your help. You’re exactly the person I was looking for.’ I thought it was a strange thing to say after being given a beverage, but he was so sincere that I agreed to help him in any way I could.”
After seeing the meticulous way he’d made the drinks, Ellie wasn’t at all surprised that it had relaxed her dad that he’d found someone capable of following detailed directions.
“My father was an excellent judge of character,” she assured him. “I’m positive he knew he could trust you and was relieved to know there were still people capable of handling something important, even if it stretched over several years, as this did.”
“Once I assured him that I’d handle any needs he might have, he gave me a handwritten list of instructions, which seemed simple enough, and then went on to write you a letter, sitting at this very counter.” Mr. Beaucoup touched the top of the bar where they were standing with their jars in hand. “After he finished, he said he needed it sealed so that you’d be able to trust that no one had tampered with it. He said you were a smart young lady and would assume someone was playing a trick on you if he didn’t do something to prove it was legitimate.”
That explained the seal on the envelope and the instructions from the man before her that had assured her the original seal had not been tampered with in any way. She got the impression he was thinking something through, so she waited quietly, hoping he would decide to share what was on his mind.
“This may be none of my business,” he began, much to Ellie’s relief, “but your father said the information he was passing along to you would keep you safe in the event that any of his past cases decided to punish you for his work. He was emphatic that you had t
o receive the information intact in order for it to protect you. Your safety was in the forefront of his mind. He was focused on the tasks, but I could tell he was a father who loved his daughter dearly.”
Ellie didn’t know if it was the kindness in his voice or the fact that he'd confirmed what she'd already known about her father, but she felt a few tears spill out from the corner of her eye. Looking at the ceiling, she attempted to blink quickly in the hope that the moisture would disappear.
“Ms. Michaels,” Mr. Beaucoup spoke, holding out his hand with a pressed white cotton square, which she accepted.
She unfolded the material and noticed a monogram at the corner. It was hard to believe there were still gentlemen around who carried cloth handkerchiefs, let alone had them monogrammed. She hated to soil it, but she needed to wipe away the tears, as he no doubt intended for her to do.
Before she had to consider how to attempt to return the used linen without any awkwardness, he put his wrinkled hand over hers and squeezed. “Why don’t you hang onto that one. You never know when you might need it again.”
Thanking him for his kindness, she realized she had no reason to stick around, but she was still reluctant to go.
“You know, there’s a lovely little bed and breakfast at the corner. I don’t know if you had plans for what to do next, but if you wanted a comfortable place to spend the night, Miss Sheila makes a mean bowl of grits for breakfast.”
Her first instinct was to decline and say she had to return home, but after thinking about it, she decided there was no reason to rush back, and she did have a suitcase in the car. So after thanking him for his help and for the delicious tea, she made her way back to the bank to pick up her car and then went off in search of the bed and breakfast. Hopefully, she’d have a comfortable room and could review the things from her dad in peace. And even if she couldn’t figure out why he’d wanted her to have the documents, she could always look forward to the mean grits before leaving this little town.
A Killer Cup of Joe Page 10
