“Nothing,” he said. Then he turned toward the city. The mist was breaking and a faint glow emanated from the shoreline a mile away. Lucas watched it for a moment, and then he took out his phone.
“We gotta call the cops.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
RAINY DAYS SUIT funerals. Lenny’s funeral was bright and sunny. A warm wind came in from the northwest, the rain having poured itself dry and moved on. Lenny always walked to the beat of his own drum. He was buried at South Florida National Cemetery in Lake Worth. The cemetery was brand-new, vast open tracts of land. I stood looking across the manicured lawns that in another part of town might have been a golf course, and thought about all that space that would be filled with rows and rows of white military tombstones. It was a suitably depressing notion.
Lenny had requested interment rather than cremation on the grounds that he had already visited the fires of hell. The service was overseen by Reverend Prescott from St. Andrew’s in Boca Raton. I’d never known Lenny to attend church, and no service was held in the chapel, but Lucas informed me that the reverend had served with Lenny, so I let it go. Regardless, the reverend spoke eloquently and accurately about Lenny. Often such speeches were performed by clergy who knew nothing of the deceased, and their words rang hollow, however well delivered they were. But Reverend Prescott clearly knew Lenny, and clearly knew a Lenny that most of us, save Lucas, had never met. He captured the essence of a man who had seen the worst that mankind could offer but came out of it expecting the best, and often getting it in return.
The gathering was large. Lenny had that way about him. There were many faces I didn’t know, people Lenny had touched on his journey. There were many I knew. Lizzy stood by Ron, his arm around her shoulder as she silently sobbed from beginning to end. An assortment of law enforcement types offered their condolences. Detective Ronzoni stood emotionless at the back, sipping on a bottle of water. State Attorney Edwards stood tall at the front, hands clasped, head bowed. He might have been acting, but he looked genuinely sad. It took me some time to realize that his wife wasn’t with him, and more time to notice Deputy Castle, standing in full uniform with colleagues, on the opposite side of the gravesite from Edwards. Perhaps it was a professional thing, but I didn’t have the mind to think about it. Lucas stood with me, at the far end of the plot. He was a strong but sinewy man, laconic of attitude and economical in his movement, but even he looked stunted and unsure. After the reverend, Lucas said a few words, mostly anecdotes about Lenny’s adventures. I didn’t think he was trying to lighten the mood—rather he was speaking about the side of Lenny that he wanted so badly to hold onto, but he brought out a few smiles and choked giggles. After he was done the reverend asked if there was anyone else who wished to speak. No one moved to do so. Lucas gave me nudge.
“Go on, mate,” he said, gently.
I didn’t really have anything to say, but I stepped around the casket, perched as it was over the perfectly dug hole. I stood at the head of the gathering, faces ranging from serious to morose, all watching me. I didn’t want to be watched, I didn’t want to speak. I looked at the box that held Lenny. I felt no tears coming, just a malaise and a desire to sit in a dark room alone.
“Lenny was like a father . . .” I stopped and kept my eyes down at the casket. I took a breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.
“There are a lot of people here today who would call Lenny their best friend. A lot of people. More people than you would think one person could handle, best friends–wise . . . but that was Lenny. He didn’t think, he just did. He helped people not because he felt he had to, but because he could. He would say, what else would I do with my time? ” I looked up at the nodding of heads.
“When you’re a kid you’re taught that you should go out into the world to find your one and only, your soul mate. Find that person and hold onto them and marry them and have kids and be happy. No one ever mentions the possibility that your soul mate might be a guy with crazy red hair, loud shirts and a fondness for beaches and beers . . . So you run the risk of going through your life not knowing that you have found your soul mate, and that the things you think you should be looking for aren’t what you were promised they’d be.” I took a shallow breath, just enough to keep things ticking over.
“And you find yourself standing in an open field, on a sunny day, in front of a hole in the ground. And you realize they were wrong—not intentionally—but wrong nevertheless.”
I paused and looked at the shiny government-supplied casket, and swallowed hard the knowledge that this was not a dream.
“And you have to deal with the fact that you missed your chance. It was there, and you didn’t take it. You missed the chance to tell him that you loved him.”
I looked up again at the faces, known and unknown. There were more tears, and I couldn’t help but think that wouldn’t be what Lenny wanted.
“So let me tell you, each and every one, that Lenny’s backstory was murky because I don’t think he was of this earth. He was ethereal. More than the sum of his parts . . . he knew stuff, didn’t he? Stuff he shouldn’t have known, things that his history should have denied him knowledge of, but he knew. He knew where you were going, and he knew where you really needed to be, and he knew what needed to happen in order for you to get there.” Again there was lots of head nodding.
“I wish I’d told him a lot of things. I really do. But I also know that he knew. And you know it, too. You know he knew. Somehow, he always knew.”
A Marine guard played taps, to the silence that always accompanies it, then a Marine approached Lucas and handed him a folded flag. It was an odd moment, the handing of a flag normally reserved for a grieving family. In a way Lucas was that family, but truth was Lucas received the flag as executor of Lenny’s last will and testament. Veterans had the option to donate the flag to the cemetery, to be flown on an avenue of flags on relevant holidays like Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day. But Lenny had left instruction that his flag be donated to his local elementary school. That story brought a few smiles and comments of typical Lenny when everyone adjourned to Longboard Kelly’s for the wake.
Mick opened the taps and put on a spread for the gathered crowd, his famous homemade fish dip taking pride of place. There was an unusual vibe. At such a time folks would normally look to console the family and enjoy memories with each other. But Lenny had no family, so people took to consoling each other, with hugs and laughter, and more than a few beers. Muriel came from behind the bar to give me a bear hug, her tears soaking my shirt. I told her to take five, and I jumped behind the bar and poured beers for a half hour. It gave me something to do, and a chance to chat with people without the physical contact that for some reason I wanted to eschew. I noticed that despite the free beer, Lucas was nowhere to be seen.
After I passed the baton back to Muriel I slowly made my way toward the exit of the courtyard. I didn’t want to leave—I just didn’t want to be there. I got into the parking lot, my keys in hand, where I ran into Deputy Castle. She was alone, and still in uniform. I got the sense that she had been crying but had waited to do it away from the public eye, and she hugged me hard. I wrapped my arms around her in return. She felt strong and frail all at the same time, and I realized that was just how I felt. When she pulled away, she ran her hand across the bruises on my cheek.
“I want to ask if you’re okay, but that seems so stupid,” she said.
I nodded.
“I know there’s not, but if there is anything I can do, for him. For you.” She hugged me again, her hand caressing the back of my head like my mother used to do. I didn’t want to talk anymore, and she didn’t ask me to. She held me for a long time, and it occurred to me that I didn’t want to eschew physical contact at all. I was just scared by how much I craved it. When she let me go she kissed my cheek and dropped her hands to mine.
“If you want to, if you need to, just call.” Then she left me to my business and walked into the courtyard.
I
didn’t know where I wanted to be or why, but I got in Lenny’s truck and drifted back to the cemetery, as if I had private words that needed to be said. I wandered in, slipping on shades in the bright afternoon sun. I wasn’t the only one with words to be said. Lucas sat on the grass by Lenny’s plot. The VA didn’t mess around. Lenny was buried and the fresh sod replaced. They hadn’t put the tombstone in place yet, so the area looked like ground under repair on a golf course. Lucas saw me coming and nodded on my approach. He had two six-packs of beer sitting beside him. One six-pack was gone. He grabbed one from the second pack, opened it and handed it to me. I sat down next to him and took a slug, and then watched him take two more beers, open them both, and pour one into the ground over Lenny’s grave. He sipped on the remaining one.
“Hell of a day,” he said.
“One for the ages, just not in a good way,” I said.
“You were right, what you said. He loved you, you know that?”
I shrugged. The gesture was unbecoming and unworthy of Lenny’s memory. I knew he loved me, just as I had loved him.
“Like a son,” continued Lucas.
“I know.”
“I read his will.”
I nodded and took a sip.
“He left you the business.”
I frowned at him. “What business?”
Lucas smiled sadly. “The detective business.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
“What about Ron? What about Lizzy?”
“I guess he figured you’d look after them.”
I looked down the neck of my beer bottle and watched the amber liquid sloshing around inside. I didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say. I was taken aback when Lenny asked me to partner with him in the firm, but I had no idea he planned to leave it to me. I wasn’t sure I was capable of it. I wasn’t sure I was capable of anything .
“He’s left a few other things, bits and bobs,” said Lucas. “And some stuff for Ron and Lizzy. Most of his money will go to charities helping wounded veterans.”
That seemed about right. Then I looked at Lucas.
“What about you?”
He smiled a distant smile. “The silly bugger left me his prime possession.”
I frowned again.
“His truck,” said Lucas.
“Two trucks,” I said. “You could start a car lot.” Which made me think of Alec. Which made me think of Lenny, lying on a wet deck in Stiltsville. Which made me angry.
“I’m gonna find him,” I said.
“Who?”
“Alec. Alec Meechan.”
“He’s gone to ground, hey?”
I nodded. “Hasn’t been back to his car lot, or his house, according to the cops. I slipped the guy from the taco shop a hundred bucks to call me if he sees any movement at the lot. He said there’s been nothing.”
“He’ll surface. They always do. Somewhere.”
“Yeah,” I said to myself, taking a sip of beer.
“What about the other two?” asked Lucas.
“What other two?”
“From Stiltsville. There were two other people.”
“No, there was just one. Whoever hit me in the head, and the guy in the poncho. One of them was Alec. I can’t be sure, but I’m wondering if the other was Drew Keck. He seems to have disappeared with his boat.”
“There was a third,” said Lucas.
“How do you figure?”
“Alec took a boat out there, by himself, right? ”
“Yeah.”
“But the other guy, he was already there. But he had no boat. He didn’t swim there. Someone took him there, and then left. A third person.”
I thought about that. It made sense. The second guy didn’t swim there. He was meeting Alec for some purpose, probably something to do with the fact that the sheriff’s detective, Neitz, had opened the containers at the port and found the cars inside. And Alec had gotten a call about that the moment Neitz had produced the search warrant.
Alec had a guy on the inside, in the port. I had seen Alec make a payoff to him. After I got back from Stiltsville I gave the description to Neitz and he picked the guy up, and the guy folded like a cheap suit, and told Neitz that Alec was shipping cars back out of the States without inspection, avoiding any customs interference due to the insurance fraud he was committing. Now Lucas had introduced a third person. Someone who wasn’t there at Stiltsville but was still in it up to their neck.
“Did you get your tender back?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, finishing his beer. “They didn’t take it, they just set it adrift. Coast Guard picked it up for me.”
I nodded and drifted away into thought again. Nothing rational or complete. Just random images, bouncing and colliding in my mind, like a tangle of cables I was trying to unwind. Lucas opened the last three beers, passed one to me and then poured one into the ground. We sat in silence, drinking and thinking, not a great combination. We were out of anecdotes, or at least out of the desire to tell them. They would come, in time. Lenny had an anecdote for any occasion, and we both knew he would never drift too far from us. After I finished my beer I stood and dusted the dirt from my suit. My only suit, for weddings, court appearances and funerals. I hoped I never wore it again.
“Gonna get going,” I said.
“No worries,” said Lucas. “Same time next week?”
I looked at the fresh, moist sod, and then at Lucas.
“Yeah,” I said. “Same time next week.”
I made to leave, and then Lucas spoke.
“You find something—I’m in,” he said.
I nodded. I expected nothing less. I walked away and got into Lenny’s truck. Lucas’s truck now. I would arrange to deliver it to him. But for now I just drove. The truck smelled of Lenny, and I felt a storm surge building inside me. I didn't know why, but I drove to the office. Night was falling and the area was deserted. The court precinct didn’t do after-hours, and I figured a fair few of the people who worked there were at Longboard Kelly’s anyway, toasting Lenny. I stopped in the lot and got out of the truck that smelled like Lenny and walked up to the office. There was no nameplate for us at the front of the building, and no nameplate for us on the office door.
I unlocked and wandered into Lenny’s office. His desk sat waiting. The room didn’t smell like Lenny. It smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings, as if the world had moved on already. I wasn’t prepared for that. Not by a long shot. I clenched my jaw and it was aching before I realized I was doing it. It was giving me a mild headache. Nothing like the one I had felt at Stiltsville, but it was there. The bruising on my face had reached its nasty peak and I looked like I’d been in a car accident. The doctors had shaved a small patch on the side of my head where they stitched me up, which completed the look.
I wanted to do something, to yell, to scream, to sound my barbaric yawp. I sat in Lenny’s chair and looked around the foreign room. There was no past, no history, no ghosts. I wanted to find Alec Meechan and make a ghost of him. To put my big pitcher’s hands around his neck and squeeze until he was blue and then black and then dust. To calm the red mist I stared at the wall of Lenny’s office. The plain, unadorned, fresh wall.
I stood up, stepped over to the wall, took a pace back, and then like a punter trying to win the Super Bowl in extra time, I kicked out with all my energy. I put my shoe into the drywall. It was good stuff, solid and hardy, and I made a dent but not a hole. The second kick made a hole. I kicked methodically, not in a blind fury. I kept kicking until there was a large hole. Large enough for me to reach in and find the wooden box. The box that Sally had sent me.
I pulled it out, breaking away a bit more drywall as I did, and then I sat down at Lenny’s desk and opened it. I unwrapped the cloth and held the Glock in my hand. It was cold despite the warmth of the day. Perhaps the air conditioning ducts leaked inside the walls, or perhaps the weapon had been in the hand of the grim reaper before I opened it up. I wrapped it back up, put it i
n the box and opened a drawer to put it in. In the drawer I found a bottle of bourbon.
I swapped the box for the bottle, closed the drawer, grabbed a chipped glass off the shelf and went and flopped onto the sofa. I poured a measure and drank it down and winced. Bourbon really wasn’t my thing. But I’d get used to it. I poured another shot and sipped it slow, but the taste did nothing for me, so I knocked it back quick. I looked out the window, the silhouette of a palm tree dancing lazily in the evening breeze. Then I looked at the bourbon bottle, and I poured a little more.
Chapter Forty
WHEN I WOKE my eyelids were stuck together and my head felt a familiar dizziness, but at least it wasn’t pounding. I opened an eye and saw a gothic vision, Lizzy’s face, dark hair and red, red lipstick. I took a moment to consider if I were dreaming, and then she poked me and confirmed I was not.
“Lizzy,” I said.
“Did you sleep here?” she asked. I assumed it was a rhetorical question and that the answer was blatantly obvious. I was still in my funeral suit, and an empty bourbon bottle lay discarded on the floor. Good fortune had ensured the bottle ran dry before I was able to inflict maximum damage on myself. I sat up and rubbed my face. Lizzy picked up the bottle and placed it in the wastepaper basket. I noticed her attention was taken by something and I looked at the wall. There was a jagged hole in the drywall. I shot a look at Lenny’s desk and saw no box, and then I remembered I had put it in the drawer, where I had resolved to never keep a weapon.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” I ran my fingers through my hair to comb it. “Some coffee. I think I’ll go get some coffee.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll go.” She left and I heard her close the outer door. She didn’t mention the bottle or the hole in the wall and I was thankful for that. I didn’t move from the sofa. A few minutes passed and I heard the outer door open again, and I looked up for my coffee but Ron walked in.
Crash Tack Page 24
