by Bill Noel
The server left, and I said, “Joy, do you remember anything else?”
“Not about them taking me out to dump me in the ocean. I remember my apartment in that building that you and I walked around. It came furnished, and I was travelling light. The only thing I had in there was a large suitcase and some hang-up clothes. Nothing more.”
“Joy,” I said, “did you tell Chief LaMond everything you remembered?”
She smiled for the first time since the service ended. “Everything but liking imported beer.”
Charles said, “It sounds like a lot of your memory’s back. Had you made friends in your apartment building or from the job at the bar?”
“Not really. I only worked at Blackbeard’s two nights, and I hadn’t lived much longer than that in the apartment. I nodded at a couple of other ladies who lived at the complex. I already have more friends here than over there or anywhere else I’ve lived.”
Charles patted her on the arm, and said, “Folly folks are addictive.”
I added, “You looked like you were enjoying sitting with Mary and her girls.”
She smiled and sipped her beer. “The kids are adorable, and Mary actually stopped by yesterday to visit, to visit me. Can you believe that? She could be the daughter I never had.” She hesitated, and turned to me, “Chris, Mary tells me that you helped her find a place to live after you discovered that she and her gals were sneaking in vacant rental houses to have somewhere to sleep.”
“Several people helped Mary and her children. I didn’t do more than anyone else.”
Joy smiled. “That’s not Mary’s version.”
I was embarrassed and changed the subject. “Will you be attending Cal’s party tomorrow afternoon?”
“Preacher Burl said that it was an event I couldn’t miss.”
“More than going to church tomorrow morning?” Charles said.
She took another sip, smiled, and said, “Nope, he said the party was the second-best event happening on Folly tomorrow.”
We watched Joy enjoying the soup and salad and talked more about what she remembered about the apartment and previously living in Atlanta. Her mood improved the more she recalled and recounted the past. She’d finished her meal and thanked Charles and me for an entertaining and happy evening. From our vantage point, it looked like the rain had stopped, and I suggested that it may be a good time for her to walk home.
Charles’s home was the opposite direction, so I told him to head to his apartment and I’d escort Joy home.
31
Joy was euphoric on the way home. She hooked her arm in mine and kept talking about how much she enjoyed spending time with the others in Hope House. It was as if an anvil had been lifted off her shoulders. We were two houses from her place when a light drizzle filled the air. The house next to Hope had strands of multi-colored lights on large shrubs beside the drive. If I hadn’t been looking at the Christmas lights, I would’ve missed a car backed to the rear of the neighbor’s house—the same car that I would’ve sworn I’d seen on Center Street when Charles, Joy, and I were entering the Crab Shack. I was even more certain it was the same vehicle when the red and green Christmas lights reflected off a dented bumper.
I couldn’t tell if anyone was in it without walking up the drive. Joy’s safety was my main concern, so I pretended to not see the vehicle and continued walking her home. We started up the steps and she asked if I wanted to come in.
“Preacher Burl always had coffee brewing if you want some.”
I opened the door and said, “That’s a kind offer, but it’s been a long day and I need to rest up for tomorrow’s church service and Cal’s party.”
“I should do the same.”
I told her to lock the door behind her. She said she would, and good to her word, I heard the tumbler secure the entry.
The rain had increased, and I wondered what to do. Should I approach the vehicle? Should I call the police? If the car belonged to the neighbor and had been there all night, I’d look foolish. I slowed as I crossed the drive where the car was parked. The lights reflected off the vehicle, but the rain-covered windshield, kept me from seeing if it was occupied. I decided to keep walking and regardless how foolish it may make me look, call the police as soon as I was out of sight from the suspicious vehicle.
I was startled to hear the car door slam shut and turned to see what was going on. A man wearing a black, hooded raincoat was heading toward me. My first thought was that it was Taylor Strong although I wasn’t certain since the Christmas lights were the only illumination, and I’d only seen him twice. What I did know was that whoever it was gripped a baseball bat, and from his body language, knew how to use it.
Now what? Running wasn’t an option. The man was three decades younger than me, and even when I was younger, I wasn’t that fast. I probably outweighed him by thirty pounds and would have a chance, although slight, to subdue him in a fair fight. The bat and my age eliminated a fight being fair. It’s amazing how much goes through your mind in a split second. My best option was to wait for him to swing at me and try to grab the bat’s barrel before it contacted my body. With luck, it would throw him off balance and I might be able to wrestle him down or get the bat. Might being the key word.
I didn’t have to put my feeble plan into action. I caught a glimpse of someone darting from beside the house and lunge at the bat-wielding assailant. The latest addition to the fray blindsided my attacker and collided with such force that both men were knocked to the concrete driveway. The bat flew in the opposite direction. I grabbed the weapon and stepped back from the men. I then recognized it was Bernard who’d saved me from being a baseball. The man who was coming after me hadn’t moved since he’d smacked into the drive. Bernard slowly pushed himself up and rubbed his elbow that had been under the other man when he struck the drive. The rain intensified, Bernard’s hair was plastered to his head, and a wide smile was plastered to his face.
I stared at the assailant. He hadn’t moved and must’ve been knocked out when his head hit the pavement. I reached for my phone to call the police and then heard the siren from a Folly Beach police cruiser less than a block away. The car stopped in front of the drive and Officer Allen Spencer rushed to the three of us.
Spencer glanced at Bernard, felt the unmoving person’s neck for a pulse, and called for an ambulance. He then turned to me. “Mr. Landrum, I should have known. What’s going on?”
“I walked Joy Tolliver to Hope House after supper.” I pointed to the car. “I saw that car and was afraid it belonged to Taylor Strong, the man suspected of abducting Joy. I was going to call the police when a man—”
Bernard interrupted, “It’s Taylor Strong, sir.”
“Thank you,” Spencer said, and turned back to me.
I continued with the story up to when Bernard jumped out of nowhere and collided with Taylor.
The rain continued to fall, and Spencer turned to Bernard. “Why were out in this lousy weather and able to see what was happening?”
A fire engine arrived before Bernard could share his version of the event. One of Folly’s EMT firefighters knelt beside Taylor. The other firefighter opened a large umbrella over his colleague and Taylor.
I said, “Officer Spencer, before Bernard answers, could we take this conversation inside? We’d be more comfortable out of the rain.”
A second patrol car arrived, and Spencer told the new arrival to keep watch on the unconscious man.
Bernard led us to the door which was opened by Adrienne wearing a long, white robe and house slippers. She waved us in, hugged Bernard, and whispered to him, “Are you okay, hero?”
He told her that other than a sore elbow, he was fine, and followed the rest of us to the living room. Burl met us and asked if we wanted coffee. He acted like it was nothing unusual to entertain three soaked men, including a police officer and a man carrying a baseball bat. I said coffee sounded good, and Bernard and Spencer agreed. Joy had slipped in behind Burl and had a confused look on her
face. I didn’t blame her.
Spencer took a notebook from his jacket, wiped water off the cover, flipped through a few pages, and said, “Bernard, let’s start again, why were you out there?”
“Sir, folks living here are a family, not by blood, but still a family. Families stick together.” He pointed to Joy who had taken a seat on the sofa. “Joy is the latest member. I knew you all were looking for Taylor Strong for what you thought he did to Joy.”
Burl returned with a tray carrying three coffee mugs and Adrienne handed them to Bernard, Allen, and me.
Allen thanked her and asked Bernard to continue.
“You see, I knew what Taylor drove and thought I saw it cruisin’ past the house a couple of times earlier tonight. I wasn’t sure it was him, so I didn’t say anything. I took a little walk before it started to rain hard and saw the car back in the drive where it is now. It didn’t belong to the owner of that house. Sir, that made me more than a mite suspicious. I went around the house and sneaked behind those shrubs out there. The driver was still in the car and not moving. I figured he was waiting to see where Joy was and maybe try to take or kill her.” He stopped and caught his breath.
“How long were you there?” Spencer asked.
“I don’t have a watch. I’d guess a half hour or so. I also don’t have a phone, so I couldn’t call for you to come check it out. Sir, I was afraid to leave and not see what the man in the car, umm, Taylor, was going to do. The rain got harder and harder.”
“You had to be miserable,” Burl added.
“Nah,” Bernard said, “I did a lot of recon in Afghanistan, like hours at a time. A half hour in the rain was nothing.”
Spencer said, “Then what happened?”
“I saw Mr. Landrum, umm, Chris, walking Joy to the house. I was afraid Taylor was going to try to get her before she got in. He didn’t, so I figured he was going to wait until everyone was asleep and do something then. I was surprised when Chris left, and Taylor went after him with a bat.”
Spencer smiled for the first time, and said, “So, you took a football tackle to a baseball game.”
Laughter, probably fueled by the release of tension more than Spencer’s joke, filled the room.
Bernard added to the laughter, and then said, “Couldn’t have said it better, sir.”
“Allen,” I said, “Were you headed here?”
Adrienne answered for the officer. “I called the police. Bernard thought he was hiding, maybe he was from Taylor, but I saw him behind the shrubs from my second-floor window. I remembered what he’d said about Taylor’s car so when I saw it parked out there, I called the police. Bernard’s right, we’re a family, and I didn’t want to see Joy, Bernard, or any of us hurt.”
I heard the siren from an ambulance approaching and Allen jotted down Adrienne and Bernard’s full name and asked Bernard if he wanted the EMTs to check his arm. Bernard said it was fine, and Allen asked if anyone had anything to add. None of us did.
32
After last night’s events, I was tempted to skip First Light’s Christmas service. I’d told Preacher Burl and Joy that I’d be there, so I resisted temptation and walked to church. The rain that’d made last night more miserable than it had already been, was gone and nary a cloud could be seen.
I arrived fifteen minutes before I knew Preacher Burl would repeat his “Please silence thy portable communication devices” opening. A familiar group of people were gathered around the coffee urn at the front of the room. Charles was talking with Bernard. Joy, Adrienne, and Rebekah were huddled together in deep conversation, and William was talking with Dixie and Martha.
Charles spotted me at the entry and pointed to his wrist, his way of telling me that I was late. I shook my head, and he mouthed, “Just kidding.”
The Christmas spirit had taken hold of my friend. I nodded to Lottie who was helping Burl with his robe. Everyone wore their Christmas best, even Charles, who wore a solid red, long-sleeve sweatshirt instead of one featuring college logos. Burl headed to the lectern and Mary, Joanie, and Jewel entered and looked around. Joy spotted them and asked if they wanted to sit with her. In unison, Joanie and Jewel said, “Yes, oh yes.” Mary ceded to their wishes, and the four moved to the second pew.
Barb entered as Burl was beginning his opening. She tiptoed to the back pew where I was sitting with Charles and squeezed my hand as she sat. “Sorry I’m late. I was at the store straightening up after being busy yesterday and lost track of time.”
* * *
I saw fatigue in Burl’s eyes, but he didn’t let it show. His message was uplifting, his enthusiasm for, and telling about, the birth of Jesus was contagious, and miracle of miracles, the congregations singing of traditional Christmas carols, sounded good—okay, passable.
Before the closing song, Charles leaned my way and whispered, “Whenever I have a problem, I sing. Then I realize my singing is a lot worse than my problem.”
“Did a President say that?”
“No, I did. Didn’t you just hear me?”
William Hansel singing “What Child is This” drowned out more silliness from Charles.
Most of those in attendance appeared to want to linger in the sanctuary after the service. Burl said there was more coffee and a few of us took advantage of it.
Charles took me by the arm and moved to a corner of the room, and in a muffled voice, said, “Why did I hear about last night from Bernard and not from my best friend?”
“Charles, I was exhausted and the only thing I wanted to do was go to sleep. Sorry.”
Instead of berating me, he said, “Are you okay?”
The phone rang before I could assure him that I was. The screen read Cindy.
“Merry Christmas, Chief.”
“Caller ID strikes again. Can you talk?”
I said for her to give me a second and walked outside where I’d have more privacy. Charles followed me. To keep him for flailing his arms and pointing to the phone, I put it on speaker and told Cindy to go ahead.
“Figured you’d want to know. Your new friend, the baseball batter, ain’t what crooks call a stand-up guy. My guys turned him over to the Sheriff’s Office when they got to the hospital. The detective called me a little while ago and said that it wasn’t fifteen minutes after he started interrogating Taylor before he blamed everything on Raymond Tilford, his partner in crime. According to Taylor, it was Tilford’s idea to burglarize the jewelry store, abduct Joy, steal the boat, take her out and dump her in the ocean. He didn’t say it, but I suspect if given a chance, he’d blame Raymond for global warming, fighting in the Middle East, and shingles.”
“Did he say why he attacked me?”
Cindy chuckled. “It appears that your surveillance skills aren’t as good as your detective friend Charles.”
Charles smiled, but kept his mouth shut. For once.
“And?” I said.
“Taylor thought he saw you looking at his car when you walked by with Joy, and when you were leaving, he said you slowed down and gazed his way. He figured he had to stop you before you did something stupid like calling the cops. Your reputation for nosing in my business, has spread to the criminal element. Tell Charles he needs to give you some lessons in surveilling.”
“Never,” I said.
Cindy laughed, and Charles stuck his lower lip out and pouted.
I asked, “Did Taylor tell them where to find Tilford?”
“Yep, and before you ask, they picked him up late last night and found some pretty earrings, necklaces, and watches in his car. Funny how they all were in in boxes with Grogan’s Fine Jewelry on the top.”
“Cindy, thanks for letting me know. You still plan to go to Cal’s party this afternoon?”
“Only if Charles, that idiotic, moronic, weird friend of yours isn’t there.” She then laughed.
“I’m not those things,” Charles said.
Cindy said, “I know, you’re not idiotic and moronic. Merry Christmas, Charles.”
Charles said
, “I’ll admit to weird. How’d you know I was listening?”
“Charles, I’m the Chief. I know everything. Besides, do you think I don’t know when a phone’s on speaker? The only person Chris puts the phone on speaker for is his nosy friend. Merry Christmas to both of you, and bye.”
Cal had said that this party would be bigger and better than ever. From the sounds coming from the room as I opened the door, he was right. Loud conversations mixed with laughter were coming from all corners. Christmas lights twinkled from the bar, the front of the stage, and from four trees.
Cal was in the center of the room standing beside a table holding bowls of salsa, avocado dip, and something with lettuce, tomatoes, and onions in it. Two bowls overflowed with chips. The smiling host wore his much-travelled, rhinestone-covered coat, red jeans, and his Stetson with twinkling lights around the crown. He was talking with Amber and her son while Samuel and his dad were scooping dip on a paper plate full of chips.
Gene Autry’s 1950 version of “Frosty the Snowman” was playing on the Wurlitzer.
Charles leaned on the bar and was talking with Joy, Mary and her girls. Joy saw me at the door and waved for me to join her. I did, and Charles said that he was telling the ladies about the police catching the second person responsible for Joy’s abduction. Bernard joined us, and Charles started the story over again. He was swinging his arm around. I was afraid he was going to slosh beer on Bernard from the bottle in his hand.
Adrienne and Rebekah had been standing in a corner by themselves, but slowly came our way after they saw that Bernard had joined the group. They each put an arm around Bernard and called him their hero. He turned three shades of red and looked at the floor. That made the ladies squeeze harder. Jim Reeves was singing “Silver Bells” and Adrienne hummed along while she was squeezing their embarrassed housemate.
Speaking of squeezing, Dixie and Martha peeked in the door, and hesitated before getting enough courage to enter. I nodded to Charles and then at the ladies. Charles took the hint and moved to greet them. I saw him get each a beer from the tub next to the appetizer table and they moved to the far side of the room.
