I was trying to turn my brain off. Maybe drinking with co-workers and Cara would be exactly what I needed.
“Screw it, why not?” I said. “She’ll be glad to see all you guys. It’s been too long.”
“That’s the Quint we like!” she said.
The other four walked over.
“We’re inviting our significant others, Quint,” Trent said.
“Give Cara a call,” Tom said.
“I’m starting to wonder if this is all a ploy to get Cara out,” I said.
“Can you blame us?” It was Greg’s turn to chime in. “You definitely outkicked your coverage with her.”
“That was funny the first three thousand, four hundred and ninety-one times you said it,” I said, but I was smiling.
“Cara! Cara! Cara!” my six co-workers started chanting.
“You guys are all drunk! I definitely need to catch up. Pour me that shot of tequila!”
As they all celebrated, Crystal went off to pour me a shot. She was definitely the ringleader of this shindig.
She brought back my tequila. I raised it to everyone, who lifted their Solo-cup concoctions in return.
“This is a toast to Tom and Krissy. They have been great bosses and owners over the last nine years. I think it would be hard to find a company in this country with more loyalty and less of a turnover rate. And for that, I’m grateful. We are generally a businesslike group, but it’s only because we take our job seriously. And it’s fun to see everyone letting loose today. So I guess, while I started this toast as one to our owners, I guess it’s for all of us. Cheers to my co-workers!” I said.
We all clinked our cups and I inhaled a way-too-big shot of Jose Cuervo.
“Ouch!” I yelled.
“That will put hair on your chest,” Trent said.
“One more of those and I’ll be Alec Baldwin.”
“Or Robin Williams,” Jan chimed in.
“Good one!” Tom said.
The fun times continued for another hour. And then Tom told us he was locking the doors.
“Toss your Solo cups in the garbage. We’re heading to the Stadium Pub in ten minutes.”
I had texted Cara earlier and now I sent her a follow-up text, telling her we’d be at the bar soon.
The Stadium Pub was a Walnut Creek staple, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s a dive. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It was located on Lincoln Drive about two blocks from our office. It had a green sign out front with three doors from which you could pick to enter. It was two too many.
The front of the bar was all tables and chairs, with the bar on the back left. If “cluttered” can be a décor choice, then that’s what the Stadium Pub was. Tables almost touched and there was no rhyme or reason as to where the seats went. It was chaos. And not the controlled kind.
But I guess that’s what gave it its charm.
We took over two tables in the back right corner. Jan’s husband, Greg’s wife, and Trent’s girlfriend all waited there. Cara arrived a few minutes later.
To much fanfare.
“We’ve missed you, Cara!”
“You look as beautiful as ever!”
“What are you doing with that Quint guy?”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek once she made her way to me. A kiss on the lips would have invited too many questions as to whether we were officially back together.
To be honest, we didn’t even know where we stood. And it was kind of a nice position to be in. No responsibilities, just taking it day by day.
“Cara, what can I get you to drink?” Tom asked.
“I’ll just take a beer to start.”
“That’s not going to work. This is a cocktail party.”
Cara grinned. “In that case, Tom, I’ll take a rum and Coke.”
“Here, I’ll go to the bar and order that for you.”
“I’ll join you.”
Tom had told me many times over the years that Cara was a special one. I think he took this occasion as a challenge to get us back together in full.
As they walked away, I heard Tom say, “I was busting Quint’s balls about all the tequila he drank at my house that one New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh, I remember,” Cara said. “I had to help him into bed that night. From the bathroom, if you get my drift.”
“I can hear you guys,” I said.
And everyone got a good laugh.
I made my way to the other table and started up conversations with my co-workers’ loved ones. I only saw them a few times a year, but over nine years you get to know them a little bit.
It was nice to see them all again. And as someone who didn’t currently want to talk about work, I enjoyed the small talk about families and kids and school.
All the things that I didn’t have. Not that I was complaining.
“When are you going to have kids?” Greg’s wife Ava asked me. “You’re not a spring chicken anymore, Quint.”
“Luckily, this guy is a rooster. And only the chick has to be young. Wait, that didn’t sound right,” I said.
Ava laughed. “I get your point. And you’re right, Cara is still young.”
As if on cue, Cara walked over and put her arms around my shoulders. “Somebody just turned forty and is a little sensitive about it,” she said.
“I didn’t know,” Ava said. “Happy Birthday! What did you do?”
“I got into a fight with some glass and spent most of the night in the hospital.”
“Well, so many birthdays blend together; I’m sure this one will stand out.”
“You can still see the remnants of the stitches.”
“Thank you, Cara!” I said.
“Oh yeah, there they are. Makes you look tough.”
“Tougher,” I said and Ava giggled once again. She had a bubbly personality and was quick to laugh. Greg had hit the jackpot.
Jan’s husband was equally nice, just more reserved. He took after his wife. But her shyness didn’t stop her from throwing back two or three strawberry daiquiris.
It was worth it just to see the bartender’s face.
“I think we’ve got a blender somewhere back there,” he said.
“Fire it up!” Trent yelled. “I might be getting a piña colada.”
We tipped well, so the waitress and bartenders loved us, but I’d admit to us being a bit high maintenance.
By time 7:00 p.m. rolled around, people started to lose steam. Jan and her husband were the first to go. If I’d had to guess, it was the most Jan had drunk in years. But she composed herself pretty well, even if her bright, rosy cheeks gave her level of inebriation away.
Greg was a tank. He had a shot every half hour and seemed sober as a judge. But Ava was starting to feel hers, and they were the next couple to leave.
Trent and his girlfriend Tanya, who had been given the nickname “The Terrible T’s” at some point in the night, were next to go. Tanya and Cara spent a long time talking and Cara had set up a double date between we two couples.
I was having too good a time to ask her if we were a couple again.
And finally, we were left with Tom, Krissy, Cara, and me.
As I’d expected.
They weren’t going to let a rare night out with Cara end early.
We moved on to another bar, this one aptly named The Rooftop, with a nice view of downtown Walnut Creek. It had already been a long day and we could see the finish line, so we left the hard alcohol at the Stadium Pub, choosing wine at The Rooftop.
“I’ll get a bottle for the four of us,” Tom said. “And then we’ll call it a night.”
We all nodded in agreement.
Tom ordered a bottle. I was no wine expert, but I assumed it was expensive.
“This is good stuff. Thanks, Tom,” Cara said.
“We’ve missed you, Cara.”
“I know. I’ve missed you guys too.”
“Can we adopt her, Quint?” Krissy asked. “So she can still be there for
us even when you guys aren’t all hunky-dory?”
“Please do,” I said. “She’s not all wine and roses.” I smiled and raised my glass.
“Quint’s not all roses either,” Cara said. “Usually, he’s more like the thorn.”
It was good-natured ribbing. The four of us really did get along well together, despite Cara and me being much younger.
The great conversation continued for the next half hour until it became obvious the night was coming to a close. In the meantime, Cara had set up another double date for us.
We walked Tom and Krissy to their Uber and said goodbye with plans for dinner soon.
“Should we get an Uber?” Cara asked.
“No, let’s walk,” I said. “It’s only a mile. Let’s enjoy this fresh air.”
Cara took my hand in hers and we turned toward my apartment complex. A place where I’d met Dennis McCarthy that morning.
I could deal with that later. In the moment, I was just happy to be back with Cara, the woman I’d always loved even when we were broken up.
“Let’s make it last this time,” she said.
I squeezed her hand tighter. And kissed her.
It was my way of saying I agreed.
We walked together in the warm June air. Despite all the shit going on around me, in that moment, everything was perfect.
15.
I was awakened the next morning by a call from Ray Kintner.
Cara was still asleep next to me and I didn’t want to pick up my cell phone, but it was the police. I had to.
“Hello?” I said.
“Mr. Adler, this is Detective Kintner. Could you come down to the station?”
I was surprised he’d used both of our last names. It sounded more official than usual.
“I’m just waking up. Can I head there this afternoon?”
“Actually, we’d prefer if you came over right now.”
“Okay. I’ll be there within the hour.”
I expected a thanks, but I looked down and he’d hung up.
“You have to go somewhere?” Cara asked.
“Yeah.”
“Want to meet up tonight?” she said.
“Yeah, I should be free. Can you let yourself out? I’m going to take a quick shower and get out of here.”
“Sure.”
There would be no morning sex this time. I showered, threw on some jeans and an old-school Pink Floyd t-shirt, and headed to the Oakland Police Department.
The police department was quiet when I found a parking spot in front and walked in. Only two police officers manned the front entrance, when I’d seen as many as eight in the past.
I left my wallet, keys, and cell phone on the little tray and walked through the metal detector. Then I took the elevator up to Ray Kintner’s office. Ray stood only twenty feet from the elevator and looked up right as I got off, apparently waiting for me. He didn’t smile or offer any sort of introduction.
Something was off.
“Follow me this way, Mr. Adler.”
I did.
He led me in the direction of the interrogation rooms. He opened the door to one and I walked in.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’ll be back in just a minute,” he said.
It was hardly an answer.
I sat on the cold metal chair waiting for him to return. Maybe Ray acted weird because he felt we had become too close. Or maybe he had big news to tell me and was just following protocol. Regardless, he was not being the cordial, helpful detective I had come to know.
Five minutes later, he returned with the young, buff Detective Marks whom I had met a week previously.
They sat in the two chairs facing me. This was becoming old hat.
“Mr. Adler, we are just going to get straight to the point.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Were you at Griff Bauer’s house the day he died?”
The wind went out of me in one fell swoop. I tried to catch my breath, but I found it a struggle to do so. I concentrated as hard as I could and was finally able to take a deep breath.
“Mr. Adler, are you alright?” Detective Marks said.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Then answer the question.” Ray Kintner was no longer my friend, that much was obvious. He eyed me suspiciously.
I had no idea what to do. I could keep lying, but they obviously knew something. I didn’t think I’d be able to lie myself out of this one.
“Mr. Adler, answer the damn question!” Detective Marks said.
I bowed my head. I didn’t have many options. It was time to come clean.
“I was there,” I said.
They looked at each other and something passed between them. I didn’t like where this was going.
“Why?” Detective Kintner asked.
That’s how I saw him now. He was no longer Ray, the one I’d become friends with. I knew he was friends with Tom Butler, but bringing him up couldn’t help me now. He looked like he was out for blood.
“The night before was my fortieth birthday and I was in Summit Hospital in Oakland. Griff Bauer was in the same hospital room as I.”
“And?”
“And someone came in and told him they needed to get out of the hospital. I was suspicious, so I took a picture of his…”
I paused. Was I saying too much? If this information got out, I’d be fired from my job. And probably charged with hindering an investigation. Or something like that. Maybe it was just better to shut up. And lawyer up.
“A picture of what, Quint?” Detective Kintner said, but I didn’t buy his friendly act of using my first name.
“It’s all a little hazy now that I think of it,” I said. “I might have gotten a concussion when I hit the glass that sent me to the hospital.”
They rightfully looked at me with suspicion.
“We heard you got in an argument with him at the hospital,” Detective Marks said.
And that’s when I knew this was really spiraling out of control.
“What? I didn’t say one word to the guy. You’re not suggesting I had anything to do with this, are you?”
“You’re being pretty evasive, Quint.”
“Can I talk to you as a friend really quick, Ray?” By doing the same thing, I hoped to reestablish our previous friendship on the fly.
“Sure,” he said.
“I’m just being evasive because I have to worry about my job. I might have done some things that would put it in jeopardy. And I know you’re friends with Tom.”
I couldn’t judge his reaction. It looked like he wanted to believe me, but a lot of doubt lurked in his eyes.
“Depending what happens here, this doesn’t have to get back to him,” he said, though I didn’t believe him.
Still, I had very few options.
“I took a picture of Griff Bauer’s address on his hospital card. That’s how I knew where to go the next morning.”
“What were you hoping to find?” the younger detective chimed back in.
“I don’t know. It was just suspicious that someone whisked him out of the hospital like that. So I went to his house as an investigative journalist, I guess. Not sure what I was going to find.”
“So you didn’t get into a fight with him?”
“No!” I said emphatically. “I didn’t say jack shit to him. In fact, I never even saw his face. I was on the other side of the hospital room with a partition between us.”
“That’s not the information we’ve received,” he said.
“Well, your information is wrong. I didn’t say one word to the guy.”
“And yet you went to his house the next morning? The day he died.”
“He was dead when I got there,” I blurted out.
I immediately knew I’d made a mistake.
“You saw his dead body and didn’t tell the police?” Detective Marks said.
I was bewildered. Did they think I was a suspect? Who the hell told
them that I got in a fight with Griff Bauer?
I’d seen enough suspects hang themselves by talking too much. But I had the truth on my side. That should matter. You’d think.
“Ray, as a friend, I want to ask you something. Should I ask for an attorney?” I said.
“That would probably be your best option,” he said.
The only public defender in the building at the time found his way down to Interrogation Room #2 and walked in. Probably in his fifties, he had thinning hair over a much-too-tan noggin.
“Bob Devane, public defender,” he said and extended his hand with a fake machismo that rubbed me the wrong way.
“Quint Adler,” I said.
“Detective Kintner said you’ve got yourself in a world of shit. He sent me down here.”
“I think they might suspect me of something I didn’t do.”
“Talk to me, Goose.”
I instantly hated Bob Devane. Using a Top Gun reference when my life was potentially on the line was tacky and uncalled for. No wonder he was just a public defender.
But I talked to him. I didn’t have much choice. I knew another attorney, a friend of my father’s, but that would get back to my mother. I still wanted to keep this on the down low if at all possible.
I told Devane about hitting the glass, about being in the room with Griff Bauer, and about making the big mistake of going to his house the next morning and seeing his dead body. I told him almost everything. But I left out the letters and having met with Dennis McCarthy. I might have had attorney/client privilege with Bob Devane, but he was never going to be my long-term lawyer. I didn’t feel a need to tell him more than necessary.
I finished by telling him about my job and how it was a big consideration for me.
“There’s a lot going on here,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Let me talk to the detectives and see if I can get a sense of what they’re after. If they just want to know what you were doing there, we can make this go away rather easily. If they suspect you of something, this becomes a lot more serious.”
It all scared me, there was no doubt.
Twenty minutes later, Detective Kintner walked back into the interrogation room. Bob Devane was there, but I only planned on asking him something if absolutely necessary. I hoped to look innocent. Which I was.
Revenge at Sea: (Quint Adler Book 1) Page 11
