by Jason Deas
“OK.”
“Big titties,” Ted slurred.
“Shut the hell up, Ted.”
“Whiskey or beers and not gin or vodka. Not that I hate Russia or nothing but vodka is the devil and gin makes me smell like gin on the tomorrows.”
“I can do that,” Benny assured. “Take a shower and sober up a bit.”
“Jerry Springer’s on!”
“So?”
“I drinks when they fights!” Ted screamed as Benny heard something topple over.
Benny hung up the phone and flew out the door, hoping he would get there before it was too late for Ted to still speak English.
Benny hauled ass. The Trans Am hummed on the highway. He admired the machine under him as it propelled him down the road. His friend Ted had been an up and coming member of the FDLE. It was a foregone conclusion that he would end up eventually in the FBI, as he had been paramount in cases in which the FDLE had assisted its Federal brother. Ted had been sharp, focused, and sober.
He and Benny had worked together numerous times as Benny’s role in the FBI concentrated on problems and issues in the Southeastern United States. Ted was twelve years older than Benny and had always treated him as a father might treat a son. Ted worked a case that forever changed his life after meeting Benny. It was a case that involved drugs and smuggling, as many cases in Florida do. Benny was called in to assist on the Federal level as the drugs were believed to be coming in from Georgia and crossing state lines. Most of the drugs usually flowed from Florida up into the other states and this case was especially tricky because it went against all the norms. Drugs never trickled down to Florida.
Benny and Ted worked closely for weeks studying trucking companies until they discovered that any and all drug busts happened to semis heading north. Nobody suspected trucks heading south as they figured the drugs were already in the south. Some of the clever drug smugglers had rerouted their shipments and were going unnoticed.
Ted made the initial discovery and unfortunately for him the biggest newspaper in Florida covered the story. Two days later his wife and daughter were killed. He bought a bottle of booze that afternoon and had been hanging on to his job and his life ever since. He blamed himself and the drinks made the blame disappear for a short time.
As Benny flew down the road, his mind turned to tunes and his eyes found the car’s radio. He laughed as he saw it took cassettes and not compact discs. His thoughts turned to Red. Red owned a gunnysack filled with at least a hundred tapes. Benny had tried to buy him a CD player but Red refused. Just as Red’s father had, Benny would occasionally take him to the local thrift store where they sold cassettes for twenty-five cents a piece or ten for two dollars. Benny decided the store didn’t want to throw them away and sold them at such a cheap price just to get rid of them. Benny often wondered if anybody other than Red purchased them.
Benny rooted around in the car looking to see if there were any cassettes stashed anywhere in the vehicle. With his eyes on the road and his left hand on the steering wheel, he searched with his right hand. Bingo! He quickly glanced at the cassette to discover he had found Kenny Rogers’ Greatest Hits. He almost pulled the trigger and popped it in but decided at the last second that it was not quite what he was in the mood to hear. He tossed it in the back seat and rooted around some more. Another score! This time his catch landed him Bon Jovi. He wondered, who the hell likes Kenny Rogers and Bon Jovi? Then he remembered he did. But, again he was not in the mood to hear Bon Jovi. Benny tried one more time, this time on the backseat floor and came up with Black Sabbath—he popped it in and pushed the gas pedal a little bit harder as Ozzy wailed through the speakers.
Before he knew it, he had listened to both sides of the cassette and was pulling into Ted’s driveway. Benny immediately noticed the grass in front of Ted’s house was at least knee high. He guessed it was probably safer if Ted did not cut the grass on his days off and made a mental note to advise Ted to hire a landscaping company. He thought how Red would be appalled by the looks of Ted’s yard.
Benny stepped on the front porch and heard loud music. He was about to ring the bell or knock with all his might, when he saw a note taped crookedly on the front door. It read, “Come in Benny Man.”
Benny’s friend Ned did this to him all the time. For some reason, every time Benny had an appointment with him, he was somewhere in the house busy and Ned tacked a note on the front door giving Benny instructions.
Benny pulled the note off the door and crumpled the paper, unable to hear the crumpling because of the loud music. He stood still and listened for a moment. It was Jimmy Buffet. He grinned, remembering how they had made a connection that began with a love of Jimmy Buffet music. Benny could not wait to tell Rachael about this episode, and he wondered how the story might grow from here.
Benny followed the music to the back of the house and into a steamy bathroom. Boomerang Love blared through speakers of the audio monstrosity Ted had in the bathroom.
“Ted!” Benny called from just outside the door.
“Come in,” Ted invited.
Whatever, Benny thought. He had been in enough locker rooms for one lifetime and the sight of one more naked man wouldn’t kill him.
When Benny walked into the room, he saw a mound of bubbles and no sight of Ted. He wondered for just a moment if Ted had just passed out and was beginning to drown.
“Ted?”
Ted popped up from underneath the bubble madness and screamed, “Boo. Get in, Benny. The water is warm and I only tooted in it two times!”
“No thanks,” Benny answered. “I thought you were watching Jerry Springer?”
“Some loser had showered with another loser’s wife and my head filled with warm tubbies. I tripped over the coffee table and came in here and ran myself a bubbly, bubbly.”
“Well, thank God,” Benny said. “It sounds like you sobered up a bit.”
“I did. Hop on in. I’ll make room. Water feels great.”
“Um, no you didn’t sober up. If you are asking me to get in the bath with you, you have not sobered up a bit.”
“Are you afraid I’ll touch your junk?” Ted asked, with an evil grin on his face.
“I’m not a homophobe, Ted, but I don’t want you touching any part of me.”
“But you’re so sexy.”
“I already knew that,” Benny answered, not amused.
Ted leaned out of the bathtub and opened the lid of the toilet which had been closed. He threw up what looked to Benny to be mostly liquid and plopped back in the tub.
“Sorry,” Ted slurred. “Should have had breakfast.”
“What were you planning on having for lunch?”
“I like Sloppy Joes,” he said raising his hands as if someone had just scored a touchdown.
“Do you have ground beef?”
“Nope.”
“Bread?”
“Negative.”
“Do you have any groceries that did not come from the liquor store?”
“Do them little sausages count? The ones they keep on the counter?”
“No,” Benny answered curtly.
“Then the answer would be not yes.”
Ted moved quickly to the side of the tub splashing a good bit of water out and onto the floor and Benny’s shoes as he once again stuck his head into the commode to relieve his overburdened stomach.
When he pulled his head out and flushed he said, “I think I’m gonna have a nap for lunch.”
“I don’t have time to go to the grocery store for you, but I will order you some food and it will be in the fridge when you wake up.”
“You’re a good man. Have a look through my briefcase. I brought all the case files home. I know you won’t mention where you got the info.”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” Benny assured. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” Benny asked.
“Sure,” Ted answered.
“Get your freaking grass cut.”
“I thought you was gonna
tell me to stop the drinking.”
“You don’t need me to tell you that.”
“Thanks, Benny.”
“Get your ass dried off, get in bed, and have yourself a good dinner when you wake up.”
Benny shut the bathroom door and waited outside until he heard the water draining, just in case Ted decided in his stupor to take his nap in the tub. When he heard the sound of water swirling down the drain, he started his search for a phone book or a refrigerator magnet that might have the telephone number of the local pizza joint. Not finding either, Benny put on his investigator’s cap and walked into the garage where most people kept their trash containers. If it wasn’t in the garage, it would be on the side or back of the house where it would not be visible from the road. It was in the garage.
Benny flipped open the top to find a stack of pizza boxes and wondered if Ted ate anything else. The smell of trash sitting in a hot garage in the Florida heat was horrid and Benny quickly ripped one of the coupons off and slammed the lid shut and retreated back into the house.
He punched the phone number off the coupon into his cell and waited as it rang. He placed an order and when he gave the address the male voice on the other end of the line changed his friendly tone.
“We don’t deliver to this address without a credit card prepayment,” the man said.
“And why is that?” Benny asked.
“I can tell you are not the guy who lives there, but he used to order all the time and pass out before we got there and we were stuck with the pizza. So, now it is company policy that he has to pay with his credit card over the phone and if we get there and ring the doorbell and he doesn’t answer, we just leave the pizza outside of the door. I guess he gets it in the morning.”
“Fair enough,” Benny answered. He gave them a credit card number over the phone as well as a healthy tip and hung up.
Before Benny could even check on Ted to see if he made it safely out of the bathtub, he could hear him snoring in one of the bedrooms. He rounded the corner and witnessed a sight that would be forever burned in his memory. Ted lay sprawled on the bed, completely naked, on his back in a frozen snow angel pose. Benny thought about turning away and fleeing the scene, but his caretaker instincts took over as he felt the cold air conditioning blowing his hair from the vent just above the doorway. He had no idea how long Ted would be out and Ted did not need a sickness on top of what would probably be a nasty hangover. Trying not to look at Ted’s massive belly and all of his other attractions, Benny pulled what looked like a homemade quilt over him and gently tucked it under his chin. He pulled the door shut and found the thermostat to turn the air up. It had been set on sixty-five. Benny readjusted it to seventy-two.
He found Ted’s briefcase in the living room and opened it to find, just as promised, each and every case file for the Brother Jim murders. Benny pored over them until the pizza showed up and filed the pizza away into the fridge and the case files back into Ted’s briefcase. The files contained scarce information. Benny checked on Ted one more time and once again covered him. Benny left a note on the fridge telling Ted to call him when he wanted company again. He wrote that he would bring all the ingredients to make Sloppy Joes. As he left, his mind was puzzling over one item in Ted’s files.
Chapter 12
Benny had been meaning to check in with Reverend Jim and tell him he was in Florida and on the case. Since he had learned nothing new before his visit to Ted’s, he had been hesitant to call. Now that he had some information, he dialed Reverend Jim’s number as he eyed the Kenny Rogers’ cassette. His mood had changed and he was now in the mood for a little Kenny.
Without a hello, Reverend Jim asked, “Did you find him?”
“No, sir. Not yet. But I did just get some pretty good information,” Benny lied.
“Do you know where he is?”
“Not exactly.”
“You need to catch him before he kills again. Did you see that Rachael Martin gal on the news this morning talking about the disappearance of the Wingz-N-Legz waitress, Charlene?”
“I didn’t see it, but she told me about it,” Benny answered. He speculated whether Reverend Jim knew about his relationship with Rachael and this was a test of his honesty.
“That’s right,” Reverend Jim answered, with a sneer. “You two were like two peas in a pod on your last case. I saw you two one time on the television and it looked like something was going on between the two of you.”
Benny decided to ignore the statement and changed the subject. “Where are you?” he asked.
“At the home office,” Reverend Jim answered. “As your employer in this situation, I don’t really think it is your business to know my whereabouts,” he scolded.
“I apologize. I was just wondering if we might be able to sit down and discuss the case at some point. I’m not much of a phone person.”
“I apologize, as well,” Reverend Jim said. “That was rude of me.” Benny could have sworn he heard a slap and wondered if the Reverend had struck himself as he did the first time he met him at the Tilley police station.
“Not a problem,” Benny assured. “You are my employer.”
Benny knew when to grovel and he did it well.
“I’m just a little tense, Mr. James. I think we do need to sit down face-to-face and discuss something. I’m afraid I haven’t told you everything about my son. I’m ready to tell you the rest, and I think it will greatly help you in finding him.”
“OK,” Benny said. “Would you like to come to Florida or would you like me to come to Mississippi? I don’t want to be away from this area for too long, but I can take a day or two and do a lot of driving and be back if it is that important.”
“You underestimate me,” Reverend Jim laughed.
Benny was not sure what to say and did not speak.
“I’ll send my personal plane. Are you still in West Palm Beach?”
“I am,” Benny answered. He couldn’t remember if he had told the Reverend if he was in West Palm Beach or not, and the thought of him keeping tabs on him without his knowledge bothered Benny.
“That is where Ms. Martin was reporting from this morning,” Reverend Jim said. “I just assumed if she told you about the missing waitress, she told you in person.”
Benny breathed a sigh of relief and felt silly for being paranoid. Now he just felt judged—like Reverend Jim somehow knew with his Godly wisdom that he was sharing a room with Rachael and having wild sex.
“That is correct. I saw her at breakfast this morning, and she gave me that tidbit of information,” Benny sort of lied. “We shared information on my last case and I did inform her that I would not be able to have the same working agreement on this case,” Benny sort of lied again.
“Thank you for honoring our contract,” Reverend Jim stated. “Did she know anything outside of what she reported about Charlene Mc… what is it?”
“McGill,” Benny answered. “Her name is Charlene McGill. And no, Rachael doesn’t know anything more than what is being reported. She said that there is very little hope, though. Charlene is not the type of person who just disappears. She has never missed work and it just was not in her personality to do something like this. The outlook is not good.”
“Shame,” Reverend Jim said with a deep sigh. “I hope she is just off, forgetting the time and date and my son has nothing to do with this.”
Benny heard the slapping sound again. This time there was no question about it—it was the hard slapping of flesh.
“I’ll send instructions and a plane,” the Reverend abruptly hung up.
Benny stared at the phone, wondering what information was so important that Reverend Jim would send his personal jet to pick him up.
Chapter 13
As Benny walked into the lobby of the Sea Chief, he was greeted by FBI agent Jessica Flynn. To a casual observer, Jessica did not look anything like an FBI agent. She resembled a girl who had just stepped off the beach in Miami, washed off her suntan lotion, and put on a
business suit for the fun of it. Her attitude and her bulldog personality told a different story.
“Benny James?” she strode toward him as he walked in the door. Benny was still singing Kenny Rogers’ hits in his head.
“Who’s asking?” he put on his game face, recognizing FBI immediately.
“FBI,” she answered, thinking it would impress him.
“Been there, done that, honey. Tell me something I don’t know,” he smiled.
“I know who you are, Mr. James,” Jessica said, loosening up a bit. “Could I buy you a drink in the bar?”
“If the FBI is footing the bill, I’m going to drink myself silly,” Benny answered.
“It is,” Jessica answered, with the beginning of a smirk.
“Let’s get started with some Dom Perignon.”
Benny followed her to the bar and tried as hard as he could not to stare at her backside. It swung back and forth in front of him with perfection. He could not pull his eyes away. When she took her seat, and turned around to look at him, he looked off into the distance, as if he was completely disinterested.
He finally focused back on her. “How can I help you Ms. …?” Benny acted as if he couldn’t remember her last name. In reality, it was burning a new hole in his brain and fighting with his allegiance to Rachael.
“Flynn.” She smiled and swatted his knee with her fingertips.
“I was going to say, ‘winter’ or something like that.” Benny tried to find one of Jessica’s flaws to concentrate his mind. He couldn’t find one.
She continued, “Where’s that bitch, Rachael?”
He found one.
“Excuse me?” Benny hoped he’d heard wrong.
“Oh,” she said, feigning ignorance, “are you involved with her? I heard she was staying here and I don’t want her cornering me again, asking for information I’m not at liberty to give.”
“She’s a good journalist.”
“Excuse my language, Mr. James, but maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be hounded by the press for information, and Ms. Martin, for lack of a better term, is a hound.”
